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”
Oh my, I was totally captured by that story,very Oliver Twistish :-). Beautifully written, Cecilia, as always. I love rice pudding, too, best winter delish, if you ask me!
hi there Nikkie, Rice pud is pretty winterish i quite agree! have fun.. c
Such a moving story Cecilia. I have tears and it makes me so fiercely proud to read what my Dad did for his sister, your Mum. I am going to tell my class this story and then make the recipe for them. I love the idea of it being created into a children’s book. I witness a great deal of hardships as my husband and I teach aboriginal children in a remote community in the Northern Territory, Australia. They endure tough times, not quite so cold; food (tucker, or “ducker’) and love is what they crave. Keep them coming C. Love Maria
What a wonderful idea to make the pudding for your kids. And awesome that you will read it to them. That is just wonderful. The story was funny to put together because grandma and mum were telling it from different perspectives, I wonder if your Dad remembers he would have been quite young.. There are other Mum stories, I will email you the links to them, your own kids might like a few of them too. Scroll down and look for ‘the day I melted my mothers tea pot Part one and two’.. that was a funny day.. love love fearless cousin. c
This is so beautifully written I felt as though I was there and wanted to shiver with the cold. I cheered for the little boy braving the nuns to rescue his sister. 🙂
I was wondering, after seeing your post title, when I last had rice pudding. I didn’t like it as a child. It was my version of turnips. My mother hated turnips because her mother frequently added them to the mashed potatoes because turnips were cheaper than potatoes, and meals had to be stretched as far as they could go in those days. Often there were more turnips than potatoes in the mashed. Mom loved rice pudding, though, and made it all too often as far as I was concerned, but it really wasn’t that often. It usually showed up when when Mom was stretching the budget as far it could go and still provide us with a dessert. I think I’ll give rice pudding another go. I might like it.
It is a really good and reasonably healthy way to stretch the budget. I remember turnips.. are they the same as swedes?, every country has different names for everything. My Mum used to call those Cattle Fodder!! But i love parsnips and carrots mashed together and i had fogotton about those so thank you for the memory trigger Robin! c
My dad’s nemesis was not rice pudding, but mutton stew, and you can imagine exactly what THAT was like after an hour or two of his intransigence!! 🙂
I love your version of how to prepare the pudding: worlds simpler to fix than any other recipes I’ve seen for it, so you can bet next time I go in that direction this is the one I’ll make!! Thanks! In our household, the version was an old Norwegian treat called *risengrøt* (rice pudding), or around our house, *Julegrøt* (Christmas pudding, ’cause that’s the only time we had it), which was made more like a sweet risotto, cooked slowly on the stovetop with a massive amount of milk/cream and served warm with butter and cinnamon sugar and one blanched whole almond in the pot for the lucky finder. A mighty tasty version too, but a nuisance to make, if you ask me, by comparison to yours! I’ll probably skip the sultanas (not a big raisin fan) and put in candied ginger or just pretty applesauce like you did, though, if you permit. 🙂 Still, if a bowl of your creamy rice pudding was placed in front of me, I’d eat it willingly, sultanas and all, not needing to prove a point by wasting such deliciousness!!
Wow, rice pudding risotto, that sounds divine, mine is the lazy way and you do not even need the sultanas, just the rice, milk and sugar. Sometimes I add a dash of baileys to the bowl after I have served it.. oh the naughtiness! c
Okay I’ll be honest here and say I don’t know about this…but it does interest me. Wondering about the “tapioca pudding similarity”? I figure if you make and like it, it should be good, but I seem to have a “heebie jeebie” feeling about it.
So to show I am thinking about it…what about using/adding brown sugar and how thick of a layer of rice? Slow cook it???? Need a temperature.
Sorry C, I can be a bit dense sometimes. 🙂 I didn’t have a good end to the week. May have gotten denser. I know it’s more dense…denser just seemed appropriate there.
That is fine Harold. One thin layer of rice. Just to cover the floor of the dish. Not a thick layer at all and then about 2 inches of milk. The rice doubles and the milk reduces. There is no reason why you can’t use brown sugar, about a tablespoon. Then into the oven at 325 for about 45 minutes, then scoop out a wee bit to see if the rice is cooked and if it is nice and creamy you can take it out. If your kids don’t like raisins you can omit them too, just add a wee bit more sugar or honey to compensate.. I think the kids will love it. let me know how it goes. It is cheap and good, especially if you use honey instead of sugar, then it is really good food.. c
Your story brought a tear to my eye. But I still won’t eat rice pudding …
Oh you AND Tandy.. is it a club?..well you guys make plenty of yummy things to eat I am sure you are not missing out! c
Your poor grandmother and mother C! I can’t say I have ever heard a good story about a nun!
I too love rice pudding and what a great idea about adding the apple sauce.
🙂 Mandy
Well i grew up with the nuns too and some of the ones who taught me were brilliant independent ladies. Some not so much. I guess they chose a hard life for themselves.. I am fairly sure the Nun who started this battle with Mum wished she had not got into it. My Dad used to say “Pick your battles” she picked the wrong one.. c
I just love your stories.. just reminds me of my own family. And I never tried rice pudding.. but I guess I should try it out soon 🙂
It is so simple Kay, you can just pop it in the oven when you get home from work and an hour later you will have a lovely hot dessert to nibble on.. My kids loved to have hot chocolate with it and I know you like Hot Chocolate!
I never thought of making rice like this, we have something similar but instead of cooking it in an oven we do it over stove top with cocoa here is a recipe http://wp.me/pMp9M-37
Exellent, I shall make that one too. I am sure that one will be well received thank you!! c
I too will not eat rice pudding! What a sad story Celi – but so true of the times
It is a sad story, but thankfully only a tiny period in their lives.. c
Fantastic story Cecilia! You paint the picture so vividly I felt like I was there staring defiantly back at the nuns!
Hullo Lorraine and welcome, and thank you. My Mother grew up to be quite the defiant adult too! c
That is a heart touching story C
I can see where you get your strong spirits from. Thank you for sharing the recipe and the story
You are very welcome. Food and stories are inexplicably mixed in my history. Scents often bring back stories, I am sure that you have old stories that go with some of your dishes too.. c
When my two boys were in an orphanage in Korea, the nuns there weren’t so kind-hearted. They’d tell the children that ghosts walked the building at night so that the children would stay in their beds. My youngest was terrified of the night for years after that. But I’ll tell you what, Celi, my boys still love rice in any form whatsoever, and I think they’d probably eat rice pudding without any problem. Lovely story, and as always told to perfection. 🙂
Oh No poor little fella, at home they tell the kids that there is a Taniwha (monster) in the deeper pools in the rivers to keep kids from swimming in the dangerous areas, poor kids..c
When I went to Catholic school rice pudding showed up quite often for lunch. Being the impressionable little girl that I was, when one of the boys in my first grade class told us they put fish eyes in the pudding I never tried it! Perhaps I will make YOUR recipe and experience rice pudding as it should be! I always enjoy the way you tell a story!
Fish Eyes!! Horrible.. c
What an amazingly vivid story. My grandmother has told many stories of the depression; the times then colored the rest of her life. I appreciate things more because of her struggle and am grateful.
It is true that those times became a benchmark for many things as they got older. And even now when people are saying how hard they have it I cannot help but think about the old days and those stories.. c