Dear Odd Readers!
Just because it was happening in my mind does not make it any less real! That is my defense and I am sticking to it.
My rice pudding post was purely fictional. I was playing make-believe, pretending to be a woman who might spend the day making rice pudding.
When I wrote the pudding post I was Katybeth Crocker with my red-and-white checked cookbook on the counter, my flower apron around my waist, my hair tied back with a bow. I could smell those apples and warm rice pairing in my kitchen. I sang as I spooned healthy homemade rice pudding mixed with simmering Gala apples into martini glasses, then added a dollop of whipped cream.
I smiled when I read comments from (mostly) impressed readers. Even the ones that doubted me were kind and gentle. Only one person claimed my post was pure mule muffins; you can always count on family (Hi Cousin Carla) to bring you soundly back to reality, albeit in a good way.
I don’t know a Gala apple from a Fuji apple.
If a recipe has more than five ingredients and a prep time longer than 10 minutes, I usually skip it.
If it’s not Minute Rice it’s not rice, so you would never find Arborio rice lurking on my pantry shelves.
Four different mixing bowls? I think not.
We own four meat thermometers. At Thanksgiving we will own five because I can never find the meat thermometer. We test for doneness by cutting a piece off, and if it’s not done we put it back in the oven or zap it. I call my mom or cousin Carla to determine if something has reached room temperature.
I am fond of presentation, so if I had made this pudding my favorite part would have been spooning it into the martini glasses and adding a generous dollop of whipped cream.
It would be highly unlikely that I would ever even leave home without a camera. No pictures of my pudding? Please. I would have taken pictures of my “labor of love” from every angle and e-mailed them out to the masses.
And, finally, I hate pudding.
So how did I really celebrate Pudding Day? I bet you can guess…but here, let me show you a picture.
Bet you are dying to know how I celebrated S’more Day and Raspberry Tart Day, since my tart maker is in Albuquerque with his grandparents. Stay tuned.
And when in doubt, remember the proof is always in the pudding and Colonel Mustard is usually guilty!