I steered clear of bread pudding for a long, long time. I lumped it together with rice pudding (which I made for the first time only recently), and grits. Perhaps it was the "Greystone bite" of grits that I endured almost daily through three stints at sleep away camp. Maybe the dreaded association came from lunch line in Wetherell, where on occasion, the menu contained not only bread pudding for the masses, but also "On-Yon" soup, and after alumni weekend, "muscles."
Then one night, A and I were having a celebratory dinner at Harvest. For the life of me, I can't recall what we were celebrating, but I know, given our restaurant budget of "only if someone else is paying" that we were surely celebrating. Early in the meal, our server asked if we wanted the bread pudding, noting that it was baked to order. Given the winter weather outside, A jumped at the bread pudding, and it was surprisingly good -- studded with with good chunks, and drizzled with a creme anglaise.
I'll have to try this one again, as I think that my ratios of pudding to bread were simply off. It was a bit dry. Although I'm kidding myself if I think I can recreate the magic of a Harvest celebration in my own kitchen.
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