The Winner and Still Champeen - Banana Pudding

Well, y'all, it's been a busy week in Roadchick's world. Isn't it always though?

Work has been busy, the holidays are upon us, and Redneck had a fun-filled trip to the oral surgeon on Friday afternoon. The 'chick went along as the designated driver and post-surgical babysitter. Fun, y'all. Loads of it.

The spirit of grinchiness has lifted slightly at Chez Roadtrip - some holiday shopping has been done. There has been no decorating though.

There were years in Roadchick's past when Christmas meant weeks of preparation and baking and shopping and decorating. It looked like the North Pole vomited on the 'chick's house. There was one year that there were THREE Christmas trees. One upstairs, in the den, one downstairs in the "good" living room, and a small, tinselly tree in the dining room that held the 'chick's much-loved collection of vintage ornaments.

Cookies were baked almost daily. Why, she does not know since everyone was sick to death of them long before the Day ever arrived. Too much of a good thing, evidently.

Much time was taken selecting just the "right" card. The "right" wrapping paper. On and on, ad nauseum.

Now, it's simpler. Gifts are still purchased and a tree might actually make an appearance although right now it's doubtful. Speedbump-The-Cat absolutely loves the Christmas trees and takes every opportunity to climb up inside them. It's a little startling when the tree starts moving on its own and then suddenly! a kitty head pops out somewhere around where the angel should be. The angel is no longer there because for some unknown reason, Speedbump routinely takes anything she can carry in her mouth to her water bowl and dumps it in. Whether she thinks she is giving the object a drink or killing it is not clear. What is clear is that decades of handmade & gifted ornaments all wound up getting a bath and that vexed the 'chick to no end.

This weekend, the 'chick is still on babysitter duty. She's not working the night shift though. Redneck is safely tucked into his beddy-byes, dosed up with narcotics, and sleeping peacefully. The 'chick will return in the morning and see how he's doing.

You wouldn't think a day of sitting on the couch, watching satellite TV would wear one out, but it does! There was some cooking involved too but not enough to keep the 'chick energized at all.

Time for a confession, y'all. This afternoon, the 'chick made a banana pudding for Redneck. Banana pudding, for those unfamiliar with it, is a Southern staple of life. It is NOT banana-flavored pudding from a box. It is vanilla wafers and homemade custard and sliced bananas and meringue. It is heaven in a Corningware bake dish.

It is the 'chick's nemesis.

The 'chick can cook. She can amaze her family and friends. She gets asked for recipes where none exists. She can bake a cake from scratch, not a mix.

She cannot, for the life of her, get the damned pudding to THICKEN as she stirs it in the double-boiler. She gets lovely custard of a liquid consistency that is suitable for eggnog or boiled custard. She does not get custard that thickens nicely to hold together the bananas and Nilla wafers.

The first time or two that it happened, she figured it was a quirk. An oddity.

She has conceded defeat.

She made a banana pudding today. It tastes good but looks like ass. The custard, as usual, did not thicken. It floated around the sliced banana and Nilla wafers like lovely vanilla soup. It continues to float around the banana and Nilla wafers like lovely vanilla soup. Except the bananas? Well, y'all know how bananas are, right? Like avocados, when they are exposed to the air, they blacken? Yeah. Without that protective layer of THICKENED custard, the bananas look like a science experiment gone wrong. A biological project in the fridge. A pastry petri dish.

It may have put Redneck off banana pudding for life. Or it will, when he opens the fridge and sees that mess in there. She admitted to him that evidently, she cannot make a banana pudding. He was stunned by this admission. He has seen the 'chick cook. He has been impressed by her mad skillz in the kitchen. He nearly wept with joy at her potato soup and slow-cooked Chinese pork.

It's shameful, y'all, and the 'chick does not know how to fix it. Little granny women with wood-burning stoves can make banana pudding, for pete's sake!

Anyway, that is what the 'chick did today. Hopefully YOUR day was more entertaining.