Tonight we came home from a drive with Selah. It was getting dark, which at this time of year signals us to start thinking of getting everyone settled down for the night.
Julia was feeling ambitious and told me she had an urge to make something in the kitchen yet. If she’s got energy, why not let her use it? “How about cooking a batch of pudding?” I asked her. Last week Austin had said he was hungry for some pudding. It was a plan. Together we found the recipe we had used at our wedding for peanut butter pie. We each took a bowl — she whipped up the wet ingredients and I the dry — and soon there was pudding boiling on the stove in a large pot.
It seemed too good to be true. What I mean is ... after years of not doing much more than the bare basics in the kitchen with toddlers hanging to my skirts, then having lost most of my zest for cooking after Daddy died — now it felt so good to, on a whim, be stirring a pot of pudding at 9 in the evening.
“Let’s get those bars out of the freezer and spread some peanut butter on top for Flat Rock pudding!” I suggested. “Why not eat the pudding hot and dip the frozen bars in it?” (I get a kick out of contrasting temps in my food.)
Julia fetched the bars from the basement freezer; in no time she had spread peanut butter over seven bars. I got a set of pretty glass bowls from my corner cabinet where I keep my special dishes. Using a big spoon, I ladled out a nice serving to each child. “Pie and homemade ice cream made by Julia for supper, and now this ...” I assured myself it’s alright — growing children need lots of food, and there’s something about that splash of doing something out of the ordinary that has its own way of adding lightness to the mundane of life. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s a touch from our heavenly Father that is too precious to really spell out when we gather alone as a family. Some of those times my mind flashes to moments when the tears just won’t stop and the answers seem far out of reach. Surely there is a Father who redeems every ache and every bit of lonely heartache.
As the last bits of pudding were cleaned out of the little glass bowls, I ushered the children out to the deck where they unrolled their bedding and got settled down for the night. These perfect fall evenings make for some great sleeping for all of us on the deck. I tell the children that the array of locusts, crickets, and frogs are God’s sound machine to lull us to sleep. Ah, there’s nothing like the pure fresh outdoor air and the gentle rays of a full moon on sleepy children.
Once everyone was settled down we had our regular routine of a story on Joshua’s level, then a time of prayer and another story from the book we are currently reading called “Uncle Oney’s Stories.” It has been an amazing time for the children to listen to stories of young people who dared to do what is right amid ridicule and testing, and how the Lord provided for them. By the time I am finished reading, eyes are drooping and half a dozen growing children are ready to drift off to sleep from the spot where they had been listening to a story for 20 or 30 minutes. Usually there’s one little lass who remains a strong evening person, whose happy chatter I get to listen to until it is officially time to be quiet and exchange final good-nights.
Now for the Flat Rock pudding — this pudding is yummy with cookie pieces as directed, or used with peanut butter crumbs (1 part peanut butter to 2 parts powdered sugar) for peanut butter pie, with sliced bananas for banana pie, or turned into raisin cream pie, or simply eaten as old-fashioned cornstarch pudding, as they called it back in the day. As odd as it may sound, I like yogurt alongside this pudding — or better yet, you can try vanilla ice cream with your peanut butter pie, like Daniel requested as part of our wedding menu.
Gloria Yoder is an Amish house-wife in rural Illinois. She is the third writer of The Amish Cook column since its inception in 1991. Yoder can be reached by writing: The Amish Cook, P.O. Box 157, Middletown, Ohio 45042.
