021: Laurie Colwin’s Lemon Rice Pudding

And getting acquainted with “nursery food”

Lemons! This photo is from 2021—rice pudding does not photograph well so I searched “lemon” in my library, et voila! The beauty on top left is a Sorrento Lemon.

I had a recent moment of publishing life déjà-vu when Jami Attenberg, in a recent installment of her newsletter, Craft Talk, published a delightful review of Laurie Colwin’s Happy All The Time, and I had the urge to send it to a former colleague along with the message: “yay! for the weekly update this week!” No doubt any former coworker reading this will either cringe or laugh. Could you ask for a better blurb? No, you could not:

It reminded me of a perfect scoop of ice cream with some chocolate sauce served in a vintage sterling silver dessert bowl, everything delicious and charming and just so. Everyone was safe in this book, and everyone believed in the possibility of love even as it made them feel vulnerable at the same time. Everyone was a little (but not too) neurotic and wise and talented and witty. Friends looked out for each other. People were just trying to figure out how to love each other and be calmer and more content. I laughed out loud at parts, texted some favorite lines to friends. It was 224 pages long, one of the best lengths for a book. I was happy, or at least a little happier, in bed, with my sick dog, reading this book.

One of my last projects before going on maternity leave was a reissue campaign of Colwin’s titles in our backlist, and having been a longtime fan prior to that, admittedly I still have a proprietary feeling about her, as if Laurie is “my author.” A feeling misplaced, given that her books were published in the 70s/80s/90s, and I cannot claim to have anything whatsoever to do with their provenance. Don’t worry, I didn’t send the text, but consider this my publicity alert to the sales force, and official recommendation that you read or reread Happy All The Time (or Family Happiness, if you want something slightly darker…or Passion & Affect, if short stories are more your bag these days).

Laurie Colwin’s delightful novel HAPPY ALL THE TIME.

The moment brought me back to Colwin’s rice pudding (published in More Home Cooking), which I experimented with in November and meant to write about back then. I didn’t because I had the fantasy of trying out several rice puddings, writing about it, and revealing my favorite, but let’s be realistic, I don’t have my act together on that level, nor do I want to eat that much rice pudding. And it’s just as well, since Laurie’s recipes don’t exactly “work,” meaning: I had to make this rice pudding a few times as it is, tweaking my version a few times before getting it right. Dipping into Charlotte Druckman’s Women on Food anthology recently, Laurie again came up unexpectedly, in an essay by Sadie Stein about MFK Fisher. My experiences were validated, even down to the wording I had already drafted for this piece: “the fact that we have all made at least half the recipes in Laurie Colwin’s Home Cooking essays after not a single one worked is a testament to both her charm and her enthusiasm.” Never have I felt so seen.

Despite having read More Home Cooking several times, I didn’t recall this recipe until Ruth Reichl mentioned it during a conversation I organized in honor those new editions of Colwin’s books that were being published. She was talking with two of my favorite authors, Stephanie Danler and Katherine Heiny, and Laurie’s recipes came up (again, in the context of not really working). But Ruth said she loves Laurie’s Lemon Rice Pudding, which is described as “nursery food” in the book—a detail Ruth repeated. “Nursery food” was a new term to me—and not an appealing one—implying rarefied childhoods of the past, somewhere on an English countryside estate or on Martha’s Vineyard, with a formal nursery where children were kept out of sight, and fed away from dining rooms and kitchens. Ironically enough, something like nursery food (solids, as those of us with infants, call it) is now on my mind constantly as I learn how to feed my son “real” food and as we gear up for his first birthday (shout out to Solid Starts for being my guide). I can’t be the only new mom who finds it stressful getting ready to eliminate formula, which, as the name suggests, is formulated to satisfy all of my son’s nutritional needs. What if I can’t manage that, without formula or breast milk to fall back on? At what point is a meal of blueberries, Greek yogurt, and a corner of bread with peanut butter not enough? Will he get rickets? Will his complexion become sallow? See, I’m already spiraling. As his 12th month nears, feeding him solids gets more and more complex—he’s beginning to have preferences, and has realized that it’s fun to feed our dog, Shelby, with his food. Shelby loves it. Like so many things involving childhood development, it counterintuitively gets harder rather than easier the longer you do it. I know rationally, that it WILL get easier, once he’s primarily eating what we are eating (we’re more or less on our way there). In any case (tangent over), I can see why this rice pudding could be considered an ideal “nursery” treat. It has grains, it has dairy, it has great subtle flavor. Laurie’s recipe actually contains very little sugar—only a tablespoon, though you could certainly experiment with sugar quantity to suit your taste. I wouldn’t feel guilty feeding it to my kid—at least once he’s “allowed” to have sugar.

I tried making the rice pudding twice before it really worked (I told you). I wrote out Laurie’s recipe as it appears in the book, and embellished it with my notes for filling in the blanks of my knowledge. The first time, the result felt very lacking in lemon flavor, the unfortunate result being a very prominent dairy taste (which you may remember that I hate, from my many thoughts on hot chocolate). And on the second try, I got the lemon right, but it suddenly seemed not sweet enough. Third time was a charm—or maybe just my limit as far as trying and tweaking went—but I landed on a version I love and am excited to share.

In Laurie’s recipe, which she actually adapted from Jane Grigson’s Good Things, she instructs you to peel and chop the lemon rind before adding it to the rice, instead of zesting the entire lemon, and I think that’s why the flavor didn’t quite land for me. I assume she (and Jane) avoided zesting because of the bitterness that can come along with the pith, but I went out on a limb and zested my lemon, and didn’t notice much bitterness. A tiny bit of bitterness couldn’t hurt anyway. For all we know, Jane Grigson developed her recipe in an AGA, or in some other oven very unlike my own, and was able to achieve a different transformation in the lemon peel (“you’ll find that the lemon peel has almost dissolved…”) to yield the right flavor intensity. There could be any number of reasons, I suppose.

Curiously, Laurie/Jane specify chilling the pudding very well after removing it from the oven. I tried it, and don’t love the texture once chilling has transformed the dish, so I recommend serving it warm, or at room temperature straight from the oven. Furthermore, Laurie suggests sprinkling brown sugar on top and popping it under the broiler before serving. This really didn’t work for me (too sweet), and I’m not confident enough with the broiler to improvise my way toward what I imagine to be the desired result she actually served to guests.

This is probably not your be-all-end-all rice pudding. There are several other versions I hope to try. There is Jane Grigson’s, which Laurie is riffing on in the first place (if I was being completist I would have started with that in order to troubleshoot the lemon intensity issue, but pretty sure my copy of Good Things is in storage). Amongst my trove of Nonni’s recipe index cards was one for Greek Rice Pudding (v intrigued by that one); there is of course Nora Ephron’s rice pudding with raisins, which I always remember from Heartburn when I think of rice pudding (I also found a similar sounding Melissa Clark recipe I’d like to try); and lastly, my mom keeps promising that she’ll dig up the recipe for the Bel Air Hotel’s version, which she inherited and made when she was the Pastry Chef there in the 80s. I wonder if it still pops up on the menu there, despite the hotel changing hands at least once since that era. I would guess not—it’s a very different hotel now.

This rice pudding is not perfect, but I love it, and furthermore, I can’t resist sharing due to my love for Laurie Colwin. More on rice pudding down the road, once I get around to trying those 5 other recipes (haaaaaa!), and picking a favorite.

Edit, 2/12/23 / I tried this recipe again last night and believe it needs more work. It didn’t turn out the way it did on previous occasions so I’ve removed it for the time being. xAV

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While I have you, a quartet of recommendations:

Something culinary: Rancho Gordo’s Mexican Oregano / I sincerely debated including this because I know you’re sick of me mentioning Rancho Gordo (and they are definitely not paying me to do so), but this stuff is incredible. We’ve been using it as a finishing condiment, which I never thought I would do with a dried spice other than chili flakes. I especially loved it in Lukas Volger’s Smoky Bean Confit.

Something fancy: Astier de Villatte incense sticks / I wasn’t much of an incense person until I walked into a room with their Stockholm scent burning (Theresa Drapkin’s (who has impeccable taste in all things) art studio). Luckily the beautiful blue, white, and gold box was in view (the packaging also got me), so I could run right home and order one for myself. I will admit I experienced a bit of sticker shock upon investigation, but a box of these has lasted me over a year by now, and I still have many many more to burn.

Astier de Villatte’s Stockholm incense sticks, illicitly photographed in Theresa Drapkin’s art studio, where I first smelled them.

Something to watch: TÁR (dir. Todd Field, starring MY QUEEN Cate Blanchett). Holy shit have you seen this movie? I’m still stunned several days later, and itching to rewatch. I’m not going to say more because I don’t want to spoil a single detail for anyone.

Something to listen to: Recent WTF with Marc Maron interviews. I realize I’m cheating a bit here, but I couldn’t decide which of these four I wanted to recommend most. I think Maron is one of the better interviewers out there because he’s an excellent conversationalist who brings genuine curiosity and thoughtful intelligence to each interview he performs. I also love his taste in subjects. He doesn’t just interview the obvious characters who happen to be doing PR at any given time. You can tell when he’s not vibing with an interviewee—it happens occasionally, and I don’t always finish those episodes unless I love the subject. I’ve listened to several fantastic ones recently: Tony Gilroy, showrunner/director/writer of Andor (I could listen to this guy talk about his life and about screenwriting all day); Jeremy Strong (this interview is great, and he seems like a genuinely nice, passionate person—an antidote to the unfair but very entertaining New Yorker profile that makes a mockery of him); Todd Field, the director of TÁR (see above/Maron’s Cate Blanchett interivew from a few years ago is also wonderful); and Sarah Polley, director of Women Talking, which I have not seen yet. I’ve been a lifelong fan of hers (any other Road to Avonlea watchers out there??), but her interview really blew me away. I found myself pausing incessantly to copy out quotes I wanted to remember into my journal. But seriously everything this woman has produced has been excellent. I’m still annoyed that Alias Grace didn’t win all of the awards. If you haven’t watched Stories We Tell pls remedy immediately.