← Back to Blog

Old-Fashioned Banana Pudding Recipe -- The Sweet That Follows the Meal That Means Everything

Turned fifty-five Thursday. Connie made meatloaf because I asked her to in 1993 and she's done it every year since. Two pounds ground beef, one egg, breadcrumbs, onion, ketchup glaze, 350 for an hour. Not fancy. A meal that says I know you and I know what you want and I made it because you asked thirty-two years ago and I never stopped listening.

Travis called — baby kicked hard enough to see through Jolene's shirt. I said that's a Hensley. Amber sent a card that arrived on the actual day. Clay brought a card from the gas station, price sticker still on. Betty sang happy birthday in a voice getting thinner each year but still carrying the melody.

Sat on the porch with Maker's Mark and thought about fifty-five. Earl was fifty-five in 2003, the year the mine closed, already dying though nobody knew it yet. I coughed — my cough, the one that hasn't let go — and pushed the thought away. Some comparisons need not be made on your birthday, not with bourbon in your hand and meatloaf in your stomach and Connie watching television inside.

Connie’s meatloaf doesn’t need a chaser — it stands on its own the way thirty-two years of listening stands on its own — but if you’re going to sit on a porch with Maker’s Mark and feel the full weight of fifty-five, something sweet and unhurried ought to close the meal. Old-fashioned banana pudding is that dessert: no shortcuts, no pretense, just layers of something familiar that tastes like it’s been waiting for you. Betty’s still singing and Travis’s baby is still kicking and the right dessert honors all of it without making a fuss.

Old-Fashioned Banana Pudding Recipe

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes (plus 2 hours chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 3/4 cup granulated sugar, divided
  • 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 3 cups whole milk
  • 3 large eggs, separated
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
  • 1 box (11 oz) vanilla wafers
  • 4 medium ripe bananas, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
  • 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar

Instructions

  1. Make the custard. In a medium saucepan, whisk together 1/2 cup of the sugar, the flour, and salt. Gradually whisk in the milk until smooth. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens and begins to bubble, about 10–12 minutes.
  2. Temper the egg yolks. In a small bowl, lightly beat the egg yolks. Slowly ladle about 1/2 cup of the hot custard into the yolks while whisking constantly to temper them, then pour the yolk mixture back into the saucepan. Cook, stirring, for 2 more minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the butter and vanilla extract.
  3. Layer the dish. In a 2-quart baking dish or trifle bowl, spread a thin layer of custard on the bottom. Add a single layer of vanilla wafers, then a layer of banana slices, then a generous layer of custard. Repeat the layers — wafers, bananas, custard — until all ingredients are used, ending with custard on top.
  4. Make the meringue. Preheat your oven to 325°F. In a clean bowl, beat the egg whites and cream of tartar with an electric mixer on medium speed until foamy. Gradually add the remaining 1/4 cup sugar, one tablespoon at a time, beating on high until stiff, glossy peaks form.
  5. Top and bake. Spread the meringue evenly over the pudding, sealing it all the way to the edges of the dish to prevent weeping. Bake for 12–15 minutes, until the meringue peaks are golden brown.
  6. Chill and serve. Let the pudding cool to room temperature, then refrigerate for at least 2 hours before serving. Serve cold, scooped into bowls.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 320 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 210mg

Craig Hensley
About the cook who shared this
Craig Hensley
Week 366 of Craig’s 30-year story · Lexington, Kentucky
Craig is a retired coal miner from Harlan County, Kentucky — a man who spent twenty years underground and seventeen hours trapped in a collapsed tunnel before he was twenty-four. He moved his family to Lexington when the mine closed, learned to cook his mama Betty's Appalachian recipes from memory because she never wrote them down, and now he's trying to get them on paper before they're lost. He says "reckon" and "fixing to" and means both. His bourbon-glazed ribs are, according to his wife Connie, "acceptable" — which is the highest praise she gives.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?