Yia-Yia made rice pudding for dessert tonight, which of course made me think about the time that Pegs inadvertently made the world's best rice pudding. You see, Pegs and I were both big fans of Indian food; one of our favorite places in New York was a nearby Indian restaurant where the take-out portions were about twice the size as the eat-in portions (read: quality leftovers) and the
daal was some of the best I've ever had. Needless to say, however, finding quality Indian food in Paris was a bit of a challenge. Efficient as always, Pegs decided that if we couldn't find good Indian food nearby, she would just make it herself. She bought a series of Indian cookbooks and, like a bloodhound hot on the trail of an escaped convict, sniffed out the various areas of Paris where she could purchase ingredients for
her various creations. One morning before I left for work, she told me that she was going to make some
kheer (Indian rice pudding) for dessert. I came home that evening to discover a sweet aroma emanating from the kitchen and Pegs anxiously stirring an enormous pot on the kitchen stove. When I told her that it smelled incredible, she worriedly told me that she was still making the
kheer and that something had obviously gone wrong along the way. If you ever ate a meal that Pegs prepared, you'll know that this was nothing unusual; she was always forgetting a key step or ingredient, and yet it almost invariably turned out fine. I wasn't nervous until I took a look inside the pot, where I saw a simmering brown substance that smelled amazing but was decidedly unappealing visually. If I remember correctly, she had substituted the incorrect amounts of milk and cream for the half-and-half that the recipe called for, so she had tried to correct her error by doubling the entire recipe, requiring the overly-large pot. The recipe said to allow the
kheer to simmer for two hours to allow the excess liquid to boil off, but because there was so much of the stuff, Pegs had been simmering for four hours with very little progress. At some point, she had decided to turn up the heat to a full boil, which I suspect had caramelized the milk and resulted in the singular brownish-pink shade of the congealing matter in the pot. I assured Pegs that she shouldn't throw out the entire batch (another habit of hers), and that I would be happy to try her latest culinary endeavor once it had a chance to cool. Thankfully she listened to me, because what we eventually ate that night was decidedly one of the most decadently delicious desserts ever made. Words won't do it justice: it was thick, creamy, caramel-y and all-around yummy. There was also at least three pounds of the stuff in the fridge, and it took an entire week for the two of us to polish it off, but oh, what a week. I'm fairly certain that I gained at least five pounds over the course of those seven days, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't worth it. Pegs was never able to repeat her error in quite the same way, but maybe that's for the best; after all, some things are too good to ever duplicate. If you'd like to give it a try, though, click on the jump to access the original recipe. If it works out, be sure to give me a call.
