Editor's Pick
JULY 6, 2010 12:30AM
Rate: 18
Stashed in the back of our stuffed chocolate cupboard is a well loved box overflowing with hand written recipes, food notes and wrinkled wine labels. It's a repository of our life in food - a truer picture of our history than any ancestral chart.
Dearest to me are the hand written recipes from our adopted grandmother, 80-year-old Ivy; shared with us when we were teenage newlyweds living in our very first apartment far from our families. It was a simpler time when all we needed was a home cooked meal to make the world right again. I can even smell that first meal Ivy made for us, although at the time we weren’t quite sure what to call it.
Entering the dingy apartment house foyer on that gray, bone chilling, rainy New England autumn evening, the usual smell, old cat hair and l’eau de musty old building was replaced by the wafting and mouth watering aroma of warm-from-the-oven meat loaf and mashed potatoes. In the dark foyer we almost tripped over the foil wrapped gift by our front door. It was the very first care-package dinner from our neighbor, Ivy. That meatloaf was love in a 5x8 loaf pan.
That same evening, we returned the dishes and shared the first of many cups of tea with Ivy. In contrast to our modest junk-furnished flat, her apartment was a cozy chintz filled slice of her previous life in England. Though she had been in the United States for decades by then, she still was a very proper English marm in diction, grammar, manners and food making. That probably explained why her meatloaf was a cross between an American Good Housekeeping recipe and Shepherd’s Pie. It was topped with some of the mashers, almost like Ivy couldn’t help herself – along with the inclusion of very squishy peas scattered throughout the meatloaf. Nonetheless, it was comfort food to a couple of kids who relied on dry cereal and boxed macaroni and cheese to survive thus far.
Once she caught on that we were not fit to feed ourselves, Ivy left her version of a balanced meal on our doorstep many evenings. We thought she possessed some crazy crystal ball because the food was always piping hot, but we soon realized that from her living room window, she could see us getting off the bus a block away. That gave her just the right amount of time to spirit the dish to our door and disappear like a magic food-elf. She had three or four dishes that were rotated and every single one included squished peas and potatoes. The only one we could not eat, but never told her, was the thing that included canned salmon. Even potatoes couldn’t make that dish edible.
Ivy also introduced us to her favorite post dinner delight, English bread and butter pudding. We ate so many variations of bread pudding, we lost count. Our favorite was toll house chocolate chip, again Ivy's way of being half American, half British. The chocolate was warm, gooey and a perfect accent to the bland pudding.
Many chilly winter evenings over bread pudding and tea, I would snuggle in one of the handmade afghans she was continually crocheting. The blankets were stored in a cedar chest that looked like an antique you’d find at auction deep in the New England countryside, but it had been in her family for generations.
Ivy’s Kitchen, Very Small - Chocolate Bread Pudding Ingredients
Preheat oven to 325. Butter an 8x8 baking pan. Scald milk, add butter and let stand about 15 minutes. Add the other ingredients (except bread & chocolate) to milk mixture and whisk to incorporate. Drop cubed bread and chopped chocolate into the prepared casserole dish and gently pour tepid liquid over it. Cover with foil and place in hot water bath in the preheated oven. Keep covered for at least 30 minutes and bake for a total of one hour or until just a tiny bit wiggly in the center. Serve slightly warm with whipped cream on a puddle of dolce de leche.
Notes: Cube the bread the day before and let it sit uncovered overnight. It needs to be slightly stale and dried. A serrated knife will chop the chocolate easily.
Bon appétit.
Dearest to me are the hand written recipes from our adopted grandmother, 80-year-old Ivy; shared with us when we were teenage newlyweds living in our very first apartment far from our families. It was a simpler time when all we needed was a home cooked meal to make the world right again. I can even smell that first meal Ivy made for us, although at the time we weren’t quite sure what to call it.
Entering the dingy apartment house foyer on that gray, bone chilling, rainy New England autumn evening, the usual smell, old cat hair and l’eau de musty old building was replaced by the wafting and mouth watering aroma of warm-from-the-oven meat loaf and mashed potatoes. In the dark foyer we almost tripped over the foil wrapped gift by our front door. It was the very first care-package dinner from our neighbor, Ivy. That meatloaf was love in a 5x8 loaf pan.
That same evening, we returned the dishes and shared the first of many cups of tea with Ivy. In contrast to our modest junk-furnished flat, her apartment was a cozy chintz filled slice of her previous life in England. Though she had been in the United States for decades by then, she still was a very proper English marm in diction, grammar, manners and food making. That probably explained why her meatloaf was a cross between an American Good Housekeeping recipe and Shepherd’s Pie. It was topped with some of the mashers, almost like Ivy couldn’t help herself – along with the inclusion of very squishy peas scattered throughout the meatloaf. Nonetheless, it was comfort food to a couple of kids who relied on dry cereal and boxed macaroni and cheese to survive thus far.
Once she caught on that we were not fit to feed ourselves, Ivy left her version of a balanced meal on our doorstep many evenings. We thought she possessed some crazy crystal ball because the food was always piping hot, but we soon realized that from her living room window, she could see us getting off the bus a block away. That gave her just the right amount of time to spirit the dish to our door and disappear like a magic food-elf. She had three or four dishes that were rotated and every single one included squished peas and potatoes. The only one we could not eat, but never told her, was the thing that included canned salmon. Even potatoes couldn’t make that dish edible.
Ivy also introduced us to her favorite post dinner delight, English bread and butter pudding. We ate so many variations of bread pudding, we lost count. Our favorite was toll house chocolate chip, again Ivy's way of being half American, half British. The chocolate was warm, gooey and a perfect accent to the bland pudding.
Many chilly winter evenings over bread pudding and tea, I would snuggle in one of the handmade afghans she was continually crocheting. The blankets were stored in a cedar chest that looked like an antique you’d find at auction deep in the New England countryside, but it had been in her family for generations.
On that late spring day when we said good bye because we were moving back to our hometown, we also told Ivy that we were expecting our first baby. Over one last shared pudding, we promised to come back with the baby to visit that next summer. Before leaving, Ivy gave us not only the handwritten recipes, but another gift that we still cherish; the afghan and a bow-covered cedar chest. Thirty six years later the cedar chest stores not only the beautiful afghan but a tiny crocheted blanket that Ivy made for our first baby. Sadly, that next winter, before we could bring the baby to meet her, Ivy died quite suddenly.
Each one of her hand written recipe cards begins: From Ivy’s Kitchen - Very Small. Her cozy apartment kitchen may have been tiny, but her heart was huge and generous. I’ve a long way to go before I turn 80, but I hope I can be someone’s Ivy one day. Bread pudding is very forgiving and easy to prepare. Intended to use up old stale bread with a few eggs and milk, the recipe deserves a little update. Use some brioche or challah (egg bread) for a richer flavor and instead of toll house chips, chop some bittersweet chocolate. I’m pretty sure Ivy would approve and be thrilled that I finally figured out the purpose of a kitchen. Ivy’s Kitchen, Very Small - Chocolate Bread Pudding - 2 cups of day old challah, brioche or pound cake, cubed (or gluten free pound cake or bread)
- 3 cups of (whole) milk, scalded
- 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
- ½ cup sugar
- 2 eggs slightly beaten
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
- Pinch of nutmeg and cinnamon
- ½ cup of chopped bittersweet chocolate
Preheat oven to 325. Butter an 8x8 baking pan. Scald milk, add butter and let stand about 15 minutes. Add the other ingredients (except bread & chocolate) to milk mixture and whisk to incorporate. Drop cubed bread and chopped chocolate into the prepared casserole dish and gently pour tepid liquid over it. Cover with foil and place in hot water bath in the preheated oven. Keep covered for at least 30 minutes and bake for a total of one hour or until just a tiny bit wiggly in the center. Serve slightly warm with whipped cream on a puddle of dolce de leche.
Notes: Cube the bread the day before and let it sit uncovered overnight. It needs to be slightly stale and dried. A serrated knife will chop the chocolate easily.
Bon appétit.
Comments
I love a good break pudding. My mom used to save all the ends to the sandwich bread we went through as a kid, when she had two bags worth of bread ends in the freezer she'd make a delicious bread pudding,
I'm a bit of a purist when it comes to bread puddings though I've not made a chocolate one, but will have to give it a try. I'm the same with way flan, I always prefer the original instead of coffee or chocolate.
I've discovered of late that my local grocery store, will frequently run "manager's specials" on breads they need to move. Some days they have a big box of all the misc, cruellers, donuts, pasties and rolls that have gone stale - I find this makes a really good bread pudding, you get a real interesting mix of textures in the pudding.
I'm a bit of a purist when it comes to bread puddings though I've not made a chocolate one, but will have to give it a try. I'm the same with way flan, I always prefer the original instead of coffee or chocolate.
I've discovered of late that my local grocery store, will frequently run "manager's specials" on breads they need to move. Some days they have a big box of all the misc, cruellers, donuts, pasties and rolls that have gone stale - I find this makes a really good bread pudding, you get a real interesting mix of textures in the pudding.
Hey, L&P, glad to see you back!
Ivy did indeed have a generous heart. But you probably returned the gift for her in the form of friendship and companionship. And both you and your husband and Ivy were enriched by it. Well, excluding the tinned salmon, maybe. =o)
rated, and now, darn it, I want some bread pudding!
Ivy did indeed have a generous heart. But you probably returned the gift for her in the form of friendship and companionship. And both you and your husband and Ivy were enriched by it. Well, excluding the tinned salmon, maybe. =o)
rated, and now, darn it, I want some bread pudding!
Lisa, you pull on my heartstrings every time you post about your food memories. You and Ivy were blessed to find each other.
I make a berry version of this for my husband and it's called Summer Pudding. It's also made of bread. "Ivy's Kitchen - Very Small" and proper indeed.
Great writing. Love the memories.
I adore you.
"It's a repository of our life in food - a truer picture of our history than any ancestral chart."
What a precious compliment to your life. I want to be a part of *that* family ... the one that stores it's memories in the eating and the sharing ... in living. What gorgeous life.
xoxo
"It's a repository of our life in food - a truer picture of our history than any ancestral chart."
What a precious compliment to your life. I want to be a part of *that* family ... the one that stores it's memories in the eating and the sharing ... in living. What gorgeous life.
xoxo
You are already my Ivy, and about several hundred other OSers Ivy. (I'm glad she chose not to put the squished peas and potatoes in her desserts).
Mmmm, bread pudding. For the love of Ivy and meat loaf and chocolate, I'm rating this. Good job!
I'm loath to turn on the oven for an hour in the summer heat and figured out how to do this in the microwave in 1/2 the time-and it tastes exactly the same as my regular pudding, maybe even a little more moist. Now I'm off to tackle Microwave Meatloaf! I love a good cold meatloaf sandwich...mmmnhmmmn.
"I hope I can be someone's Ivy one day" says it all. Just beautiful.
Heartwarming and bellywarming and all kinds of sweet! I've had a few "Ivys" in my life, and I hope they all knew how much they meant to me. Like you, I try to offer that kind of helping hand to others when they need it. We love bread pudding too, and I made it frequently until the local grocery store stopped selling its day-old bread.
I don't even like bread pudding, but this story and recipe made me want to try it again.
What a wonderful story! You gave Ivy a purpose to live, she got to nurture and care for some young things that needed tending. Ha. Great story and wonderfully told. Also like the recipe too. R.
Mmmm.....a warm heart reached through a warm tummy. Peace through squished peas? Pathos with your mashed potatoes? A sweet story, a sweet recipe, as always measured perfectly.
Cleo - I do love bread pudding, too. The mix of textures is a great idea.
Shiral - She was a generous person and with a wicked sense of humor for a proper Brit.
Shellie - aw, thanks.
emma - I bet that is really good. Berries sound delicious.
read - thank you!
1_mom - back at you.
green - thank you - and I giggled at the thought of peas in her desserts. knowing her, she might have tried it...
Lucy - thank you! been enjoying your food posts, too.
Gabby - yep, triple digits today. too hot for the oven. never had microwaved pudding though. interesting. good?
Katy- thank you.
Bell - thanks. why did they stop selling day old? hopefully they give it to the shelters before it is day old?
Anna - anything with chocolate is far better than plain...just saying. give it a try. you might enjoy it - not soupy at all.
Sheila - thank you.
moist - thank you, too.
Shiral - She was a generous person and with a wicked sense of humor for a proper Brit.
Shellie - aw, thanks.
emma - I bet that is really good. Berries sound delicious.
read - thank you!
1_mom - back at you.
green - thank you - and I giggled at the thought of peas in her desserts. knowing her, she might have tried it...
Lucy - thank you! been enjoying your food posts, too.
Gabby - yep, triple digits today. too hot for the oven. never had microwaved pudding though. interesting. good?
Katy- thank you.
Bell - thanks. why did they stop selling day old? hopefully they give it to the shelters before it is day old?
Anna - anything with chocolate is far better than plain...just saying. give it a try. you might enjoy it - not soupy at all.
Sheila - thank you.
moist - thank you, too.
My granny, and following her my mom, used to butter sliced bread, then spread it with marmalade, layer half slices in an old fashioned enamel baking pan, scattering golden raisins in between the slices for good measure. Then she would pour on a mix of milk, sugar, and beaten egg, and stick it in the oven. Just before it was done she would pull it out and sprinkle sugar over the top, and bake again until that was caramelized on the top.
Such a great post! I, too, have had an Ivy in my life, and would love to be someone's Ivy one day. The gift of food is such a wonderful thing...so nurturing. I was recently quite sick and we really had no idea how much our community loved or cared about us until the food started pouring in. I'm working diligently to return that love to everyone... :)
I love bread pudding, too. It's comfort food at it's finest! I'll give Ivy's recipe a try. Yum.
I love bread pudding, too. It's comfort food at it's finest! I'll give Ivy's recipe a try. Yum.
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