Last week, I convinced my wife to make pudding for me. She is very supportive and never judges my dietary choices even when she should. The one exception is my pudding. I found an alternative recipe a few years ago that used applesauce. She was ok with that version, but I craved the real thing.
I hear you asking, “You put applesauce in pudding?” The answer is yes and no. My pudding is not pudding in the traditional sense. My pudding is cake batter. I used to whip up a batch of cake batter with no intention of baking a cake. Then, I ate the batter with a spoon like, you guessed it, pudding. Unhealthy eating habits usually are more subtle than this. I didn’t care. My wife did. She was not concerned about the intense caloric load or sugar content I was ingesting. She didn’t like that cake batter contained 2 raw eggs. Salmonella was a risk. Obesity was a certainty. I tried to have my cake batter and eat it too. I substituted applesauce for the eggs. It was ok. I missed the real taste and danger that came with consuming raw eggs. I felt like an overweight Rocky. Instead of putting my raw eggs in a glass and drinking them, I put them in with cake mix, stirred thoroughly, and ate them with a spoon. However, both of us feel accomplished at the top of a set of stairs.
I have been dieting for the last year. As part of my diet, I have cheat days. As an adult, I am no longer excited about Christmas. I have everything I need or want. Cheat days are another thing. I fantasize about the junk I will eat on cheat days all week. I tell myself, “You’re hungry now, but on Sunday, you can have Little Caesar’s.” Last Sunday was cheat day. It was glorious. I ate so many carbs. Then I noticed a box in the pantry, cake mix.
“We should make a cake.” I said.
Laura asked, “Are you going to bake the cake or just eat the batter?”
“Laura, I’ve grown. I’m going to bake the cake.” I said.
She mixed up the cake, added the eggs, and preheated the oven. She poured the batter into 2 round pans. I then stole the mixing bowl and licked it clean. I was like a fat version of Golem from Lord of the Rings mumbling “my pudding”.
Most of the batter we made last Sunday made it into the cake pans. When Monday rolled around, I was back on my diet. After a few days, we threw the cakes in the garbage. I only wanted the batter.