Pumpkin Spiced Pudding

I have been thinking about what the woman said at homecoming—that Marcus used to sneak sweet potato pie from the church kitchen. I asked Calvin about it this week and he got that look, the slightly guilty look he gets when he's been keeping a benevolent secret, and he said, "He might have mentioned it to me once or twice," which means Calvin knew and found it funny and did not tell me, which is very Calvin, who has always been the co-conspirator of his children's small rebellions against my kitchen standards.

I don't mind. I mind less than I would have before March third, which is another way grief changes you—you stop minding certain things. You stop minding them because you would give anything to have the problem back, the minor transgression, the boy who steals pie from his mama's kitchen because the pie is too good to wait for and the mama will forgive him anyway because the mama always forgives him. I would give everything to have that problem back. I would bake twelve pies and leave them unlocked and walk out of the kitchen for twenty minutes and come back to find half of them gone and pretend to be furious and not be furious at all. I would give everything.

Instead I bake the pies. I bake them the way I always have—Bernice's recipe, the one that starts with roasting the sweet potatoes until they're soft and caramelized and the house smells like October—and I eat them at the table with Calvin, who eats more sweet potato pie than is probably medically advisable for a man his age and who shows no signs of stopping, and I think: the pie is still here. I am still here. The eating goes on. That's not nothing. In fact it's the whole thing.

Destiny called Sunday. She's doing well at UAB, finishing up her last semester, looking ahead to graduation in May and the LCSW licensing process and figuring out what comes next. She asked how I was doing and I said, "I baked sweet potato pies this week," and she understood exactly what that meant. My girl. She speaks my language. She always has.

This pumpkin spiced pudding isn’t Bernice’s recipe — nothing ever will be, and I’m not trying to replace it — but when I needed something warm and October-scented to carry me through the week, this was what came together in my kitchen. The spices are the same ones that make the house smell like it’s supposed to smell in the fall, and there is something about a soft, yielding dessert that asks nothing of you except to sit down and eat it. Calvin had two servings without being asked. That felt right.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 can (15 oz) pure pumpkin puree
2 1/2 cups whole milk
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
2 large egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Whipped cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Whisk the dry base. In a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan, whisk together the granulated sugar, brown sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, allspice, cloves, and salt until evenly combined.
Add the milk and yolks. Gradually whisk in the milk until smooth, then whisk in the egg yolks. Make sure there are no lumps before proceeding.
Cook the pudding. Place the saucepan over medium heat and cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon or heat-safe spatula, until the mixture thickens and begins to bubble, about 12–15 minutes. Once bubbling, stir and cook for 2 minutes more.
Stir in pumpkin and butter. Remove from heat. Stir in the pumpkin puree, butter, and vanilla extract until the butter is fully melted and everything is smooth and uniform.
Portion and chill. Pour the pudding into six individual serving dishes or ramekins. Press a piece of plastic wrap directly against the surface of each pudding to prevent a skin from forming. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or until fully set and cold.
Serve. Top with whipped cream if desired and serve cold. Pudding keeps refrigerated for up to 4 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pumpkin Spiced Pudding — Baking Through the Grief, One Warm Spoonful at a Time