I’m generally not one to brag. But guys, I’m kind of a German chocolate cake expert. Really.
You see, my husband’s all-time favorite, “if you could choose one thing to eat for the rest of your life” dessert is German chocolate cake.
And he requests it for LITERALLY every. single. special. occasion. in. his. life.
We’re talking birthdays. Anniversaries. Promotions. New jobs. New houses. New babies. Arbor Day. (Okay, no, we don’t actually celebrate Arbor Day. But you get the picture.)
We’ve been married eight years this August, so I’ve made approximately 23988948594543 German chocolate cakes in my life. If that doesn’t make me an expert on the subject, I don’t know what does.
And trust me when I say that if there’s a new twist on the German chocolate cake out there, I’ve tried it. I mean, you can only make the exact same cake so many times before you just get bored out of your ever loving mind.
I thought about making an extravagant Easter brunch this year. I spent a few hours tossing the idea around in my head, planning the menu, envisioning the tablescape, designing adorable little place cards for each guest. I was thinking of going with a decadent Eggs Benedict. A fresh, spring salad on the side, maybe mixed greens with radishes and peas and some kind of lemony vinaigrette. Homemade croissants, obviously. Three kinds of jam. Some surprising, yet sophisticated and understated cocktail. The way Easter brunch should be done.
And then I remembered that we’re two weeks away from our move date. And that I’ve already packed up all of our dishes (not to mention any and all serving platters, flatware, and Easter decorations). And that I have two kids under the age of five who definitely wouldn’t appreciate a good Eggs Benedict and would instead ask for scrambled eggs and guacamole with a side of Goldfish crackers, thankyouverymuch.
Easter is an incredibly special day in our house. So even if my Martha Stewart-inspired brunch wasn’t meant to be, I still wanted to do something special for breakfast. I was scrolling through my Instagram feed when I saw a picture of this show-stopping Easter bread. Clearly, it was fate. Or an incredibly well-curated IG feed.
You don’t need me to tell you how to make pudding. You might need me to tell you how to make French macarons, and tell you that tights are not pants, no matter how functional and/or comfortable they may be as leg coverings. Pudding, though…you’ve undoubtedly got that one covered.
Maybe I just need to remind myself how to make pudding. Or to remind myself to actually make pudding.
And then I thought, if I need a reminder to make pudding, maybe you also need a reminder to make pudding. Because with so many amazing dessert recipes out there to try, who says “maybe I should just make pudding?”
So let’s make pudding.
And I’m not talking about Jell-O Instant Pudding, which, yes, is delicious in its own right. I’m talking about real, homemade pudding. With sugar and milk and chocolate. The kind of pudding that your grandmother used to make for your mother. The kind of pudding that makes you wait three hours for it to set. The kind of pudding that reminds you of evenings around the family dinner table and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and catching fireflies at dusk.