When my mother was small, her mother became quite ill while pregnant with her fourth child. It was the depression. It was winter. They were struggling like nothing we will ever see. The family had been relocated again and again as Pa went from town to town looking for work. So Grandma had landed in yet another house, in yet another strange town with three small children and one more on the way and no family or friends to call on.
Grandma told me part of this story and Mum told me the other part. I am not sure that they knew that the other had spoken of it. This was in the hard times.
Pa was working. Maybe rabbiting I am not sure. He was away for weeks at a time. My grandmother, pregnant, became very ill and the doctor sent her immediately to the hospital. The children, my mother and her two brothers, were taken to a Catholic orphanage. As I understand it this was only for a few days, maybe a week. Imagine the fury of Grandma when she recovered and found her children had been stashed in an orphanage by the priest, in the absence of her husband. But there was no-where else for them to go, until one of the Aunties could get there.
Mum told me that the children all ate in a large dining room. The girls on one side and the boys on the other. One night rice pudding was served. Mum refused to eat hers. Just refused. It was winter dark and cold in the big room. I do not know why, I am not even sure how old she was(maybe 5 or 6) but she was a little girl who hated rice and she had run to the end of her tether. She just said No. Thank you.
A battle of wills ensued between this little woolly headed child and the Sister in charge of the dining hall. All the children silently ate their pudding as Mum sat solidly on her bench with her arms folded and her mouth closed. Her brothers across the room ate quickly and watched with rising horror as their sister got deeper and deeper into trouble. The nun in charge announced that she would have to just sit there until she had eaten her rice pudding all up. She was not allowed to leave the dining hall until her bowl was empty.
The wee girl locked eyes with her brothers across the room as they were led away in a line to wash and then into bed in the dormitories on the next floor. She sat in her long socks and slippers, a woolen skirt and shirt topped with a thin hand-knitted cardigan buttoned to her chin. It was cold. It was always cold there.
She sat up straight on her bench in this enormous drafty wood lined room, high ceilings, long windows. The tables were cleared and wiped by the older orphan girls and soon she was all alone. Her arms still folded, her mouth still shut. Slowly lights went out in the far reaches of the room and yet still she sat. The nun moved in and out checking on her. Cold began to creep up her legs and into her back. But the little girl did not move.
The door where she had last seen her brothers, opened ever so slowly. She saw a shadow like a big cat creep through the door and drop to the floor. Her eyes whipped to the kitchen doors, she could hear the murmur of the Nuns. The room was empty. The dark shape scuttled across the floor and under the seats. It was only a shadow. But she knew it was her brother.
The Nun pushed open the kitchen door, releasing a shaft of light into the room and peered down the room at Mary. Mary turned and glared back. The Nun, probably wishing she had never begun this, wordlessly retreated back to the well lit kitchen. The light shrank back to a small puddle around the girl.
Mary’s little brother had appeared at her feet under the table, his eyes huge in his face, he held out his grubby hands. She quickly handed down the untouched bowl of rice pudding. He started to dig in with his fingers. No, she said, use the spoon. She handed it to him. Within seconds the bowl was empty and returned to the table. Her little brother smiled and wiped his nose with a small sniff. She handed him her napkin. Now go, she said. Resting her hand on his head for a second. After a quick smearing swipe, he scuttled back into the dark, returning to his shadow shape then slipped out of the room.
She sat a while longer with her empty bowl. Then she took her dish and spoon to the scullery window and was escorted gently up to her dormitory filled with sleeping strangers and tucked into bed.
As long as I knew my Mother she never ate or made rice pudding. So this is not her recipe. I may have got it from Grandma but I have been making it for so long it’s origins have drifted into the mists of time. I love it.
Rice Pudding
Cover the bottom of your dish with rice. Sprinkle over a tablespoon of sugar or honey, and a few sultanas. Half fill the dish with milk and cream, cook slowly in a moderate oven, for about 45 minutes. Be careful not to over cook as it will keep drying out after you have lifted it from the oven. (I added some home made apple sauce today).
c
The Kitchen's Garden 
84 responses to “My mother hated Rice Pudding”
This story touched my heart dear Cecilia, I can almost imagine this little girl. How it’s being so impressive and unforgetable in a small one’s mind. You expressed so nicely, Thank you dear Cecilia. In my food culture we have rice pudding, but we don’t make like that. Later I can share maybe, even I can cook. It’s been for a long time I didn’t make. Have a nice day, with my love, nia
I would love you to share some of your cooking with us Nia, maybe you could start with your rice dessert! c
Touching story and something to truly think about during this holiday season of abundance. Making rice pudding in the oven is something I’ve not heard of; sounds so much easier than constant stirring!
it is spice, just pop it in and later on pull it out! yum.. c
Oh, I just want to cheer for your mum and her spirit! She must have grown to be an amazing woman. I have never had rice pudding, but you’ve inspired me (again) to make a batch for my crew. I’ll go easy on anyone who refuses to eat it 😉
It is so easy to make and perfect for kids. When my kids refused to eat anything, well actually before they refused, I would pay them to try stuff and they would get an extra ten cents or something if they pretended to like it! but that was just for fun.. c
I’m not going to lie…rice pudding, bread pudding or pudding in general is not my thing. Of course Liz loves it and it must be present in our household from time to time. 😉
fair enough Jed, I always suspected that Liz was the sweet one in your household. I have you pegged as the carnivorous one.. !
I’m with your mom! The first time I ever had rice pudding I was 22 years old and someone served it for Thanksgiving. I had zero experience of it so I assumed it was a savory dish. I took my helping and, as the meal progressed, had my first bite. I almost – then and there at the dining table filled with people I barely knew – spat it out. ALMOST…but I managed to swallow it. Let me tell you, when you’re expecting savory and you get sweet, it’s a bit of a shock. I have never had any since. 🙂
Oh, and I love the sweetness of your uncle for his sister!!!!
why did they have a dessert on the table during the main meal I have to ask? were they eating rice pudding with meat?. i can see why you got a shock.. c
This I do not know! Perhaps if the’d had it at the right time it would have helped!!!
I love rice pudding- sans raisins please.
Nice and creamy that way! c
I remember many occasion sitting at the table because I refused to eat something, usually Brussel sprouts, fried spam or fried egg. I would have to sit there till everyone had gone, luckily we had a big German Shepherd and he usually helped eat the left overs. I’m sure my Mum knew but her will would not bend to mine but she wasn’t mean enough not to pretend the dog was getting leftovers :o) I do love rice pudding though!
sometimes a mother has to take a compromise just so that She can go to bed. I bet you would have sat there all night otherwise! i would not eat fried spam either, in fact I don’t believe i ever have.. and as for brussel sprouts, i have yet to meet a child who likes them.. Have a great day Allison.. c
I did not go to a Catholic school nor was I raised Catholic. But I had my tonsils out at 5 in a Catholic hospital, and lordy I remember hiding under a table for fear of the nuns! And if that hadn’t done it, my dad’s stories of his upbringing in a Catholic orphanage would have done it. Celiamama, I feel for ya. 😦
Still, I love rice pudding, and make it whenever the mood strikes. Brown rice, black rice – coconut milk, mmmmm …. 😀
i have learnt a lot about rice pudding after writing this post and you poor wee thing hiding under the bed! c
Hi Cecilia. It must have been incredibly hard for your mum and her family at that time. For a lot of other people as well I should imagine. Beautifully written and a great read.
I love rice pudding. Going to give your recipe a go.
Regards Florence x
It is so simple Florence, very winter!! c
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