Toffee Pear Crisp Bread Pudding —rsquo; The Sweet Thing We Made After the Pasteles Were Gone

La Cocina week six: pasteles. The deep dive. The week I told them up front would be hard. The week I told them: pasteles are not weeknight food. Pasteles are an event. Pasteles are why families exist — to grate plantain together until everyone's hands hurt.

I had pre-soaked the banana leaves Tuesday morning. I had pre-cooked the pork filling Tuesday afternoon. I had made the sofrito Monday. I had grated yautía Wednesday morning. I came to class Wednesday evening with a pre-prepped pastele assembly station because I knew we did not have six hours to make pasteles from scratch in a single class. We made pasteles in the assembly stage only — the wrapping, the tying, the cooking. I demonstrated the masa-making but did not have everyone do it from scratch. The full process is twelve hours. The class is two.

Diana asked, "Mrs. Carmen, can we do a Saturday class for the full pasteles process?" I looked at Brian. Brian looked at me. I said, "Diana, yes. December. We will do a full Saturday pasteles workshop in early December. Brian will figure out the funding." Brian said, "I will figure out the funding." Diana said, "Mrs. Carmen, I will be there." Mr. Patterson said, "I will be there." Eight other students said they would come. Brian said, "We are doing a December Saturday pasteles workshop." The future of La Cocina was being written in real time, in week six of the first cohort.

The pasteles cooked on the stove in three big pots. The smell — there is no smell like a pot of pasteles. It is pork and plantain and banana leaves and sofrito and time. Twenty-six students sat around the kitchen tables and we ate together. Three pasteles each. Some students did the cilantro-and-vinegar dipping sauce I had taught. Some did the ketchup-and-hot-sauce that the kids in Hartford do. Both are valid. The pastele does not judge.

Mami this week — Mami spoke to me on Thursday for forty minutes lucid. She told me a story I had never heard. About when she was nineteen and Abuela Consuelo had taken her on a trip to San Juan to meet a young man for an arranged-marriage type situation, and Mami had refused him in front of everyone, walked out of the lunch, and taken the bus home alone. "Carmen," she said, "I refused him because he had bad shoes." I said, "Mami." She said, "Bad shoes mean a man does not love himself. A man who does not love himself cannot love anyone else. I learned this at nineteen. I taught you this at nineteen. You forgot." I said, "Mami, I did not forget. Eduardo has always had good shoes." She said, "Yes. That is why I let you marry him." Wepa.

After the pasteles were gone — after three pots and three pasteles each and the cilantro-vinegar debate and Mami’s voice still in my head telling me about bad shoes and self-love — I needed something sweet and unhurried, something that asked nothing of anyone and just warmed the room. I had made this Toffee Pear Crisp Bread Pudding the following Sunday morning with the pears that had been sitting on my counter all week, and it tasted exactly like the exhale after a week that asked everything of you. It is not a pastele. Nothing is a pastele. But it is the right dessert for a week like this one.

Toffee Pear Crisp Bread Pudding

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr 5 min | Servings: 9

Ingredients

• 6 cups day-old French or brioche bread, cut into 1-inch cubes
• 3 medium ripe pears, peeled, cored, and diced
• 3 large eggs
• 1 1/2 cups whole milk
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup toffee bits (such as Heath baking bits)
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
• For the crisp topping:
• 1/3 cup rolled oats
• 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 3 tablespoons brown sugar
• 2 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
• 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

Instructions

1. Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x9-inch baking dish with butter or nonstick spray.
2. Make the custard. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, heavy cream, brown sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt until fully combined and smooth.
3. Assemble the base. Scatter the bread cubes evenly into the prepared baking dish. Distribute the diced pears throughout, nestling them between the bread pieces. Sprinkle the toffee bits evenly over the top, then dot with the small pieces of butter.
4. Soak the bread. Pour the custard mixture slowly and evenly over the bread and pears. Press the bread gently with the back of a spoon to help it absorb the liquid. Let it rest for 10 minutes so the bread soaks through.
5. Make the crisp topping. In a small bowl, combine the oats, flour, brown sugar, and cinnamon. Add the cold butter pieces and use your fingertips to work the butter into the oat mixture until it resembles coarse, clumpy crumbs.
6. Top and bake. Sprinkle the crisp topping evenly over the soaked bread pudding. Bake uncovered for 40–45 minutes, until the top is golden and crisp, the custard is set in the center, and the edges are bubbling slightly with caramelized toffee.
7. Rest and serve. Let the bread pudding rest for 10 minutes before cutting. Serve warm, as-is or with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream or a drizzle of caramel sauce.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 340 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 47g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 230mg