January 29, 2011 Comments Off on chocolate pudding
O had a late and rough start this morning. She opened her eyes at about 11:30, a good fifteen hours after she sacked out, and she looked awful. I had her hit the showers, and then she reeled back into our room.
“I think I’m going to throw up, Dad.”
Now, at this point, I realize that chocolate pudding doesn’t really seem like it’s going to figure in this particular plot. But trust me, there’s a happy, chocolatey ending here.
So we sat in the bathroom for a while, she praying to the porcelain god, me praying to everything else. This was one of the things the doctor told us to look out for, and I had visions of C and I keeping her company in the hospital until help arrived. But finally she decided she wasn’t going to lose cookies, and I took her temperature and it was mercifully normal. “Maybe it was oversleep,” she thought, but I thought it was more like she hadn’t had anything to eat, basically, in 24 hours. “Let’s get some Gatorade and applesauce in you and see if that helps.”
It did. She perked up considerably with some sugar and fluids, and then I suggested she move up the ladder to Jell-O. “I hate Jell-O, Dad,” she said. I know, I thought, everybody hates Jell-O. “Unless it’s pudding. Do we have any pudding?”
“No, but I’ll bet we could make some.”
“You can make pudding?”
Now, I didn’t know if we could make pudding, I just knew that it was theoretically possible. So we decamped to the kitchen and started reading up. We had just enough semisweet chocolate chips, and there was some corn starch leftover from the great non-Newtonian fluid experiment a couple of weeks ago. No light cream, but I figured half-and-half would work, and sugar, eggs, etc., we had by the bucket. I started melting the chocolate chips, we whisked stuff together, and pretty soon C came around the corner wondering what we were up to.
“Making pudding,” I told him, and he looked at me kind of funny. “Grab a whisk.” He sensed the presence of chocolate, butter, and a ton and a half of sugar, and gamely chipped in.
We chunked it all together and brought it to a boil, and I’ve never seen anything go from raw ingredients to finished product so impressively. I’m sure it had something to do with the corn starch suddenly activating, but one stir it was just brown gunk, and the next it was…pudding. Of course, it was boiling hot pudding, but the consistency was suddenly smooth and creamy.
We put it in the fridge for half an hour, which wasn’t nearly enough. It came out still warm, but the O wasn’t waiting any longer. “It’s warm,” I told her, “I think it would be better if we let it sit another thirty minutes or so.” But by now her brain’s nomming centers were fully activated.
“Give me pudding,” she said. And I did. And it was like someone had lit a match underneath her. With a massive hit of protein, sugar, and carbs that her body had obviously been craving, she was back to her old self. Still coughing up a storm, and tired tonight, again, but a good afternoon for her, and it’s nice to have her back. Never doubt the power of pudding.
Of course, we made a whole recipe, which I realized late in the game served 8. So we have what appears to be the nation’s strategic chocolate pudding reserve left in the fridge.