Food Network
My list of rice pudding loves is long. There's the Danish risalamande, with chopped almonds, whipped cream, and a sour cherry sauce, usually served at Christmas with a prize inside- one that I never win, not that I've been trying for thirteen years at my best friend's house or anything. There's kheer, with cardamom, cashews or pistachios, and saffron. There's rice pudding the way our grandmothers made it, baked for what feels like an eternity, with milk, eggs, and sugar. And there's arroz con leche, which is kind of like your Kozy Shack went down to Costa Rica for a lazy weekend and came back enviously tan, sultry, and smelling of sandy shores. As you can tell, I really like arroz con leche. But this- a riff on one of the best variants of arroz con leche I've made, which, in its original incarnation on my site, I adapted from Ingrid Hoffmann's wonderful recipe- is my favorite, for two reasons: First, it knows me. (That's the funny thing about the recipes I create!) It knows how preposterously bad I am at keeping stuff in stock in my kitchen, like milk, but that I seem always to have an unmoved collection of canned items and grains. Second, it's so creamy that it's like a pudding stirred into another pudding. The rice is cooked first in water. I prefer to start my rice pudding recipes like this, because I'm convinced that cooking the rice first in milk takes twice as long and doesn't get the pudding half as creamy. Also, it gives me a use for those cartons of white rice left over from the Chinese take- out I only occasionally (cough) succumb to. Then you basically cook another pudding on top of it, with one egg and three milks- coconut, evaporated, and sweetened condensed- and the end result will be the richest and most luxurious rice pudding imaginable. But why stop there? For the times when the word "Enough!" has escaped your vocabulary, I recommend topping it with a dollop of cinnamon- dusted whipped cream, for the icing on the proverbial cake.
