Pudding will always hold a special place in my heart, partly because it reminds me of my childhood memories spent at my grandma’s house, where I helped stir, stir, stir as the fragrant thickening mixture wafted upward while I stood on a step stool.
Looking back, I can see how the aromatherapy ultimately enhanced the pleasure of eating it, as did the anticipation of waiting for the warm mixture to set in the refrigerator in the little glass ramekins she had poured it into.
I’m taken to that cozy place by these single-serving cups of maple-kissed pudding, which are also healthier. They are layered with sliced banana and crunchy graham cracker crumbles on top. The only thing I change about Grandma’s recipe is the small amount of maple syrup I use in place of refined sugar, which adds a lovely flavor layer.Usually, whole milk is used, like I do here, in place of cream, giving the pudding a slight richness without making it overly heavy. If you are particularly worried about saturated fat, you could use low-fat milk instead, which will produce a satisfactory but slightly less creamy outcome. But don’t discard the egg yolk—it adds color and body.
Grandma certainly knew how to portion food just right. Not only does this create an eye-catching presentation, but layering thinly sliced bananas into tiny ramekins or cups ensures that you get precisely the right amount for a filling and nutritious snack or dessert.
t’s not entirely my choice, but lately I seem to be eating a lot of banana pudding straight out of Mason jar. Over the past year or so, I’ve had the sweet, oozy dessert served to me in this manner at a number of restaurants and catered events. Occasionally, it’s arranged in typical pint jars, with multiple portions that visitors spoon onto a platter. Occasionally, it comes in adorable little four-ounce jars that can hold a single serving a kind of banana pudding shooter.
Usually at this point, I’m supposed to pull back the curtain and admit that, in reality, banana pudding isn’t all that Southern. That it was created in New York City and given a Southern twist by self-serving chefs, Hollywood producers, Army wives, or possibly a group of them all in collusion.
I am not able to do that, much as I would like to. There’s no denying the Southern authenticity and strength of banana pudding, which dates back over fifty years. The dessert’s antecedents date back even further. Not if it’s Southern, but rather when and how it became that way, is the true question.