Slow Baked Forbidden Rice Pudding

Y’know, had my parents just explained that my farm childhood was excellent preparation for upcoming viral pandemics, I might have been less whiny about the whole social distancing thing. Then again, knowing myself, maybe not…

Physical distancing is by choice part and parcel of farm life.  While we had neighbors, they were a quarter to a half-mile away. One saw them quickly if help was required, such as clearing one’s drive of snow; after which they disappeared back to their own little appropriately distanced domains. Respect for physical distance was part of the farm ethos. 

While I did not appreciate the social isolation of farm living, it did offer some important lessons. For example, you come to understand that things don’t always go your way; that sometimes you conform to the rules because it’s for the well being of your compatriots.  Learning to entertain oneself with activities and hobbies is a valuable skill.  Etc. etc. All of which fit neatly into my current life as a healthy person, following social distancing directives, to try and keep us all healthy. 

What farm life did not offer was much in the way of handling the anxiety that moved in with the coronavirus. My life has simply never included disruptions like fear of exposure and product shortages. It has been chock full of the privilege of security… in fact, this experience has offered me a wider view of my parents’ reasoning in choosing farm life. Both of them survivors of World Wars and the Great Depression, farm life probably offered the security of knowing they could provide for their basic needs in emergencies. Mom, in fact, used to say that the day would come when we would need the farm.  While she did not live to see this particular need, she is probably saying, “I told you so,” from her heavenly perch.

Let’s be clear-no great personal sacrifices are occurring here. I’m simply staying at home, in the comfort of my desert abode. I leave the house to procure food supplies and once a week, to pick up and deliver the day’s excess bread from a local bakery to our church’s food pantry.  Well, and for the occasional take-out meal; have to support those local restaurants! I am indeed fortunate to have a comfortable home in which to shelter, along with adequate food. But the anxiety does creep in…

Cue the comfort food.  Turns out that I have failed to understand, much less to appreciate, the concept of comfort food. You know the culprits: the creamy, the fatty, the starchy, or most probably some miraculous combination thereof.  I associate these foods with cold weather, or with the occasional case of down-in-the-dumps. And while I enjoy them in reasonable portions, comfort food is typically not health food. But at the moment these foods are more than just indulgences; they represent security, even if for only the minutes spent on the tongue. “Minute on the lips, lifetime on the hips” might not matter so much when one is simply attempting to survive. 

Mom’s slow baked rice pudding was just such a dish for me.  Long, slow baking at a low temperature turns a small amount of rice into delicious creamy pudding. The surface of the milk caramelizes, which gets stirred into the mixture repeatedly as it bakes. Mom used white rice, the variety available at the time. I’ve used forbidden black rice because it has a luscious earthy, yet sweet flavor with just the right amount of textural bite. It’s higher in protein and lower in both carbs and calories compared to other varieties of rice, while also being high in antioxidants. But mostly, it’s just delicious. Feel free to use whatever kind of rice you like. Mom used straight up dairy milk. I’m using part coconut milk because I like the tropical twist it provides. She usually added raisins, which I’ve done, too, but the black rice version would be great with fresh-diced mango stirred in before serving as well. 

There are those rushing to reopen the life that was, the pre-coronavirus life. They probably have some life lessons to learn, and I can imagine no sterner teacher than a highly contagious, virulent and yes, deadly disease.  Thankfully, my folks offered me knowledge that I hope will result in a slightly softer landing. I’ll just be staying home until some authority I can trust displays the data that says it’s relatively safe to go out and live it up. Of course, it will soon be 105° in the shade here in southern Arizona. I might have to search for a more refreshing comfort food…ice cream, anyone?