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Pumpkin Custard —rsquo; Something Warm Waiting at Home

One week until the first day of school. My classroom is ready. My supplies are labeled. My sub plans are written through October because that is the kind of person I am. Ryan has arranged his shift schedule so he is home the first day, which he did not tell me he was doing and which I found out about when I looked at the calendar and saw his name where a shift should be. I told him he did not have to do that and he said I know and did not change it.

The twins are seven months old. In the time since they came home from the NICU, they have gone from four-pound fragile alarms to seven-month-old people with opinions and preferences and the ability to communicate displeasure at a volume that carries into the hallway. Owen can sit up. Nora is crawling, badly, but crawling. They are doing fine. They are going to be fine with Patty while I am teaching other people's children.

I keep reminding myself: I am a better mother because I am also a teacher. I am a better teacher because I am a mother. These things are not in competition. This is something I say to myself on the days it feels like they might be, and it is true, and I have to keep choosing to believe it.

Slow cooker set to run while I am at school: that is the plan. I ordered a programmable model from Amazon that will turn off and switch to warm mode, so I can put something in before I leave at 7:15 and come home to dinner at 4:30. This is the architecture of a working parent's Tuesday in October. It is beautiful. It is a little sad. It is the thing I signed up for and I would sign up for it again.

The slow cooker is handling dinner, but I wanted something for after — something that would make the house smell like October and feel like I had planned even one more thing right. Pumpkin custard is the answer I keep coming back to: it goes in the oven while I unpack bags and nurse whoever needs it first, and by the time Ryan and I finally sit down, it’s there, quiet and warm, proof that the architecture held. It is a small thing. It is exactly the right small thing.

Pumpkin Custard

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 can (15 oz) pumpkin puree
  • 3 large eggs
  • 1/2 cup granulated sugar
  • 1/4 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1 1/2 cups whole milk
  • 1 tsp pure vanilla extract
  • 1 tsp ground cinnamon
  • 1/2 tsp ground ginger
  • 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
  • 1/4 tsp ground cloves
  • 1/4 tsp salt
  • Whipped cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

  1. Preheat. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Lightly grease six 6-oz ramekins or a 9-inch baking dish and place them in a large roasting pan.
  2. Mix the custard. In a large bowl, whisk together the pumpkin puree, eggs, granulated sugar, and brown sugar until smooth and well combined. Add the milk, vanilla, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cloves, and salt. Whisk again until fully incorporated.
  3. Pour and prepare water bath. Ladle the custard mixture evenly into the prepared ramekins or baking dish. Pour hot water into the roasting pan around the ramekins until it reaches halfway up their sides.
  4. Bake. Carefully transfer the roasting pan to the oven. Bake for 40–45 minutes for ramekins (or 50–55 minutes for a full baking dish), until the custard is just set at the edges but still has a slight jiggle in the center.
  5. Cool and serve. Remove ramekins from the water bath and allow to cool on a wire rack for 20 minutes. Serve warm, at room temperature, or refrigerate for up to 3 days and serve chilled. Top with whipped cream if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 170 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 135mg

Amanda Kowalczyk
About the cook who shared this
Amanda Kowalczyk
Week 387 of Amanda’s 30-year story · Chicago, Illinois
Amanda is a special ed teacher in Chicago, a mom of three-year-old twins, and a woman who lost her best friend to a fentanyl overdose at twenty-one. She cooks on a budget that would make a Whole Foods cashier weep — feeding a family of four for under seventy-five dollars a week — because she believes good food doesn't require a fancy kitchen or a fancy paycheck. She finished Babcia Rose's gołąbki after the funeral because that's what Babcia would have wanted. That's who Amanda is.

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