Vanilla Pudding Fruit Salad

Chloe asked me about college this week. Not in the abstract — in the specific. She said, "Mama, when you finish school, do you get a party?" I said, "Yes, baby. It's called graduation." She said, "Can I come?" I said, "You better come. You're going to be in the front row." She said, "Can I wear a fancy dress?" I said, "You can wear whatever you want." She said, "I want to wear a crown." A crown. My daughter wants to wear a crown to my graduation. She thinks graduation is a coronation. She might be right.

Jayden had his two-and-a-half-year checkup at the pediatrician. He's in the 60th percentile for height, 55th for weight, and 100th percentile for volume, meaning he is the loudest child the pediatrician has ever examined and she's been doing this for twenty years. He screamed during the ear check, the eye check, and the stethoscope, not because any of it hurt but because he did not consent to being examined and he wanted everyone in the building to know it. The doctor said, "He has strong lungs." Yes, Dr. Patel. We know.

I catered another small event this weekend — a baby shower for a woman from Cornerstone Church. I made chicken salad sandwiches, fruit cups, and a sheet cake with pink frosting. She paid me $75. I stood in my kitchen at 6 AM cutting crusts off sixty sandwiches and thought about Sarah's Table — the catering business that lives in my head like a seed waiting for soil. Not yet. Not now. But someday. Someday this $75 baby shower will be a $500 wedding. Someday the seed will have soil.

Mama has been walking every morning — her 6 AM laps around the apartment complex. She's lost eight pounds and her blood pressure is better and she has the energy of a woman who has decided that her sixties are not the end but the encore. She told me last week, "I spent thirty years working at Kroger. I'm spending the next thirty doing whatever I want." What she wants, apparently, is to walk in circles, watch grandchildren, and critique my cornbread. That's a good life. That's Lorraine Mitchell's encore, and she deserves every lap.

I made peach cobbler this week because peaches are in season and because Tennessee peaches in July are the closest thing to divine intervention I've experienced in a grocery store. Sliced peaches, sugar, butter, a batter of flour and milk poured over the top, baked until golden and bubbly. Served warm with vanilla ice cream that melted into a river around the cobbler like a moat around a castle. Chloe said, "This tastes like summer." It does, baby. It tastes like summer and like Tennessee and like Earline, who made peach cobbler every July with peaches from a farm stand that doesn't exist anymore but whose cobbler lives on in every kitchen that carries her recipes.

That peach cobbler didn’t last long enough to photograph — Chloe saw to that — but it got me thinking about all the ways fresh summer fruit can anchor a table, even when you don’t have time to bake. This Vanilla Pudding Fruit Salad is what I reach for when I’m catering a baby shower at 6 AM and need something that looks beautiful, travels well, and tastes like somebody’s grandma made it with love. Tennessee peaches go straight in, right alongside whatever else is ripe and gorgeous at the farm stand, and the whole bowl disappears before I can even set out a serving spoon.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes (plus 30 minutes chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 package (3.4 oz) instant vanilla pudding mix
1 cup cold whole milk
1 container (8 oz) frozen whipped topping, thawed
2 cups fresh peaches, peeled and diced (about 3 medium peaches)
1 cup fresh strawberries, hulled and halved
1 cup fresh blueberries
1 cup green grapes, halved
1 can (11 oz) mandarin oranges, drained well
1 cup pineapple chunks, fresh or canned and drained
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

Instructions

Make the cream base. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the instant vanilla pudding mix and cold milk for about 2 minutes, until the mixture begins to thicken. Let it sit for 3–4 minutes to set up fully.
Fold in the whipped topping. Gently fold the thawed whipped topping into the pudding mixture until smooth and fully combined. Do not overmix — you want it light and fluffy.
Prep the fruit. Toss the diced peaches and strawberries with the lemon juice to help them hold their color. Make sure all canned or frozen fruit is thoroughly drained so the salad doesn’t become watery.
Combine. Add all the fruit to the pudding cream base and fold gently until everything is evenly coated. Take care not to mash the softer fruit.
Chill and serve. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving. This allows the flavors to meld and the cream to set around the fruit. Serve cold, straight from the bowl.

Nutrition (per serving)

Vanilla Pudding Fruit Salad — Summer in a Bowl, Just Like Earline Would Have Wanted