Pudding Quotes

“I feel like, like pudding," Iggy groaned. "Pudding with nerve endings. Pudding in great pain.”
― James Patterson, The Angel Experiment

“Then there was the concert where the boys refused to sing 'God Save the King' because of the pudding they had had for luncheon. One way and another, I have been consistently unfortunate in my efforts at festivity. And yet I look forward to each new fiasco with the utmost relish.”
― Evelyn Waugh, Decline and Fall

“PUDDING IS DELICIOUS.”
― Amy Poehler, Yes Please

“P...U...D...D...I...N...G"
"Pudding," said Roger. "They've kept some for us."
"She hasn't finished the word," said Dick.
Titty was reading steadily on. "H...E...A...D...S...End of word”
― Arthur Ransome, Pigeon Post

“The bowl was warm, and I inhaled the comforting aroma. It was kesari bhath, a dessert Mom had learned to make from her mom, who'd learned it from hers in India, and on and on and on for who knew how many generations. It was made with semolina, sugar, milk, and ghee, flavored with saffron and cardamom, and studded with raisins and cashews. I tasted a spoonful of the thick, golden pudding. It was perfect.”
― Rajani LaRocca, Midsummer's Mayhem

“We'll have beef pudding all in the George style," Peg announced, not caring to mention that, as even Nan could not make it, she had ordered it to be delivered cooked from the inn, and hang the expense. She herself made the most excellent apple pie from Mother Eve's Secrets, licking fingers sweet with muscovado and cinnamon.”
― Martine Bailey, A Taste for Nightshade

“There is a kind of man who appears to be fashioned in circles. His body is a collection of curves topped by a round and shining head. His soul is as round and polished as his body, with no mad and jagged corners to scarify society’s epidermis. Even his life is a circle, for, as a rule, he will die, as his temperate habits deserve, at a ripe old age, on the very threshhold of infancy once more.”
― John Hastings Turner, A Place in the World

“the only sign that Katharine gave of abstraction was to forget to help the pudding. She looked so like her mother, as she sat there oblivious of the tapioca”
― Virginia Woolf, Night and Day

“I keep an eye out for Ann, but instead I catch sight of a hedgehog shuffling into the undergrowth---an unexpected glimpse for they are shy, nocturnal creatures. Something about his gait, his spines, makes me imagine a sweet dish in his image. A hedgehog pudding... How might I make the spikes? Slithers of blanched almonds... impaled in a stiff white icing? Browned in a hot oven to re-create his russet color? And beneath his armor of icing and almonds... a Madeira sponge? A stiff blancmange? As I ponder how to make the hedgehog's body, I notice an apple tree, its boughs stripped of fruit but for a single split pippin at its apex. An apple hedgehog! A thick puree of apples drained until almost dry... with a center of apricot jam flavored with lemons.”
― Annabel Abbs, Miss Eliza's English Kitchen

“I worked on a new dish while you were away. A pudding." She ties her apron tight around her waist. "Milk, cream, vanilla, eggs, and sugar."
"Oh," I say, slightly unsettled at the jauntiness of her tone, at its certainty. "A custard? Did it curdle?"
She ignores my question and tells me that she garnished her pudding with branches of preserved barberries. She asks if I would like to see it. But before I can answer she scuttles to the pantry, returning with a clean pudding cloth over one arm, and my best platter----on which wobbles a custard as large and pale as a harvest moon. Atop are woven branches of barberries that wink like garnets. For a second I am speechless. Her creation---for it is nothing less---is picture-perfect.
She offers me an egg spoon and jabs at the platter. "Go on, Miss Eliza. I saved it for you to taste first."
I dip the spoon into the custard's wrinkled rind and lift it swiftly, curiously, to my lips. As I do so, I'm aware of a sense of serenity washing through me. My anguish over dedications, the lurking accusatory voice that lives inside my head, all of it slips away. And there is only cream and vanilla. It occurs to me that although this glorious pudding is her creation, Ann is partly my creation, and I am partly her creation. Cooking and tasting have provided their own stage and we are performing on it at this very moment.”
― Annabel Abbs, Miss Eliza's English Kitchen

“I wanted to move. I needed to move. But in those moments, I could more easily have lifted a semi truck filled with pudding.”
― Brandon Sanderson, Firefight

“I’ll tell you all about it, but let’s eat first. I’ve had nothing to eat. Although I was offered some raw squirrel. Canned pudding, that’s what I want. I’ve been dreaming about it.”
She hauled out a can and feverishly worked the can opener. She didn’t wait for a dish or spoon, but thrust her hand in and scooped some into her mouth. Then she stood transfixed, overwhelmed by the wonderful sweetness of it.
She was crying when she said, “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten how to be polite. I’ll get you guys your own can.”
Sam hobbled over and scooped some pudding of his own, following her lead. “I’m way past polite myself,” he said, although she could see he was a little appalled by her wolfish behavior. She decided then that she liked him.”
― Michael Grant

“Please let's change subject, as despite the alliteration, I don't think Politics and Puddings go together.”
― J.E Allen, Year of Fire and Ash

“She spent what was left of the afternoon in the kitchen with the chef, Monsieur Broussard, the pastry chef, Mr. Rupert, and Mrs. Pennywhistle. Broussard was involved in the creation of a new dessert... or more aptly, trying to re-create a dessert he had remembered from childhood.
"My great-aunt Albertine always made this with no recipe," Broussard explained ruefully as he pulled a bain-marie, or water bath, from the oven. Nestled inside were a half dozen perfect little steaming apple puddings. "I watched her every time. But it has all slipped from my mind. Fifteen times I have tried it, and still it's not perfect... but quand on veut, on peut."
"When one wants, one can," Poppy translated.
"Exactement." Broussard carefully removed the dishes from the hot water.
Chef Rupert drizzled cream sauce over each pudding, and topped them with delicate pastry leaves. "Shall we?" he asked, handing out spoons.
Solemnly, Poppy, Mrs. Pennywhistle, and the two chefs took a pudding and sampled it. Poppy's mouth was filled with cream, soft tart apple, and crisply imploding pastry. She closed her eyes to better enjoy the textures and flavors, and she heard satisfied sighs from Mrs. Pennywhistle and Chef Rupert.
"Still not right," Monsieur Broussard fretted, scowling at the dish of pudding as if it were deliberately being obstinate.
"I don't care if it's not right," the housekeeper said. "That is the best thing I've ever tasted in my life." She turned to Poppy. "Don't you agree, Mrs. Rutledge?"
"I think it's what angels must eat in heaven," Poppy said, digging into the pudding.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Tempt Me at Twilight

“You've got braised short ribs in the big oven, and that potato, leek, and prune gratin that Brad loves in the warming drawer underneath. There is asparagus prepped in the steamer- Ian can just turn it on and set it for eight minutes." When I helped redesign their kitchen, the Gaggenau rep convinced me to put in two warming drawers, since I'm usually leaving them food that is fully prepared but won't be consumed immediately, and an in-counter steamer, which has been a total game changer when it comes to getting a simple green vegetable on their plates every night, not to mention making the weekly pasta night a cinch.
"The perfect thing for a chilly fall night like tonight."
"That is what I figured. And there is a chocolate ginger sticky toffee pudding on the counter for dessert. The coffee caramel sauce is in the other warming drawer."
"That sounds interesting, a new one?"
One of the recipes I've been working on this week, sort of an update of the English classic. I'm loving how the dark chocolate and sweet heat of the ginger take the cake out of the cloying realm, and the bitterness of the coffee in the caramel sauce sets it all off beautifully. "Something I've been playing with.”
― Stacey Ballis, How to Change a Life

“It felt like everything opening up in every part of my body, like my body was made up of one hundred million tiny knots and every one of them came untied at once and then I was melting, sinking like soft pudding.”
― Lily Seabrooke, The Simple Answer

“Dishes are set before him: grilled pheasant and pomegranate salad; the haggis, neeps, and tatties soup; a savory doughnut stuffed with fresh crabmeat; lemon, zucchini, and Anster cheese soufflé; a slab of moist sourdough bread with a pot of freshly made crowdie and preserved lemons to spread on top; and, of course, the pudding.
This one was born from Susan's childhood memories: after-school treats of bananas split in half and spread with peanut butter, and her mother's chocolate-chip studded banana bread, lavished with butter or dripping with honey. This pudding starts with a cake: the bottom layer is a rich, dark, fudgy chocolate as luscious as velvet. On top of that a layer of banana honey cake laced with cinnamon- just sweet enough to balance out the bittersweet bottom layer. And finally, a peanut butter mousse that dissolves as soon as it reaches your tongue, melding creamily with the other layers like a slightly salty, addictive sauce. Shards of honey and peanut praline decorate the cake, and it's accompanied by a little peanut-flavored candy-floss "lollipop" on the side.”
― Brianne Moore, All Stirred Up

“Our take on a rhubarb and custard," Susan announces. "Rhubarb sorbet on the bottom, topped with whipped custard and a candied rhubarb sweet."
It's served in small egg-shaped glasses, so you can see the layers: bright pink sorbet on the bottom, rich lemon-yellow custard, whipped to airy delicacy, topped with a wafer-thin, jewel-like disc of rhubarb that's been roasted, pressed flat, and encased in rhubarb-flavored praline.
The chef takes two bites of it, then sits back, sighs, and looks at his plate for a while. Susan feels like melting into the floor. He hates it! What went wrong? Is it too simple? She worried about that. Maybe she should have done a tart or a mille-feuille.
"This tastes of summer," the chef says at last. "Every bit of it is delightful and delicious- it's so light and airy and enjoyable."
"I totally agree," says the presenter. "It's the perfect follow-up to something as heavy as those ribs, and the flavors remind me of rhubarb and custard sweets, which really takes me back."
"Yeah, me too." The blogger nods. "Raiding the sweet shop after school.”
― Brianne Moore, All Stirred Up

“Great-grandma Elisa Ramires was a promising cook at an inn. The job was her only opportunity to raise Grandma on her own, so she made herself famous with a buttery, delicately savory fubá cake recipe. Dona Elizabete Molina had been at the inn longer than Great-grandma, and she was also famous for her own recipe. Milk pudding. It was said to be so smooth it slid on your tongue.
The two were often at odds. They each wanted to prove to the neighborhood who was the best cook in town, and the opportunity came about with a cooking contest.
The night before the contest, Great-grandma and Dona Elizabete were busy preparing their entry dishes and tending to the many guests at the inn. It was a busy night, with many tourists in town for Carnival.
Nerves frazzled, shoulder to shoulder, and vying for space in the small kitchen, the story goes that the cooks accidentally tripped each other and sent their cake and pudding flying off the trays.
Miraculously, the layers stacked up. Dona Elizabete's milk pudding landed atop Great-grandma's fubá cake. Maybe Dona Elizabete held the tray at the right angle until the last second and the pudding had enough surface tension to just slide off the right way without breaking. Maybe Great-grandma's cake was firm enough to hold the delicate layer of pudding atop. Whatever the case, they tried this new, accidental two-layered cake and realized that their recipes complemented each other beautifully. When they passed samples around to the guests, their reaction was proof that they'd produced perfection.
No one remembers if they still entered the contest. Because from that moment on, the only thing everyone could talk about was their new recipe, the one they called "Salt and Sugar". One layer fubá cake, one layer pudding.”
― Rebecca Carvalho, Salt and Sugar