The Best Bread Pudding. Ever. (2024)

I’ve never liked bread pudding. It wasn’t in my mother’s rotation of recipes growing up, so the only other exposure I’d had to the dish was the occasional trip to a cafeteria-style restaurant with my grandmother. There, the bread pudding looked like someone had opened a loaf of white sandwich bread, poured a bunch of sweet liquid inside the bag, and stuck a spoon into the mess and served it up. And they’d stick three raisins on it, thinking that would cover up the multitude of sins. It just didn’t float my boat.

I’d effectively written off the whole bread pudding thing, fooling myself into thinking my life was complete without it. After all, I have a great chocolate cake recipe, I can whip up a mean tiramisu, and my mom’s peach crisp with maple cream sauce belonged within the gates of Heaven. What did I need bread pudding for? Hmmmph.

Then, one day last January, my mother-in-law came to my house to watch the Super Bowl. She brought this bread pudding, one she’d seen in Tom Perrini’s cookbook, and once I took my first bite, I knew just what I’d been missing my whole life. Suddenly, everything made sense. In an instant, I wanted to paint, to sculpt, to ascend Mount Everest and write a sonnet. It was so, so good.

The wonderful thing about this bread pudding is the use of sourdough bread cubes instead of white bread. It gives the dish structure and integrity, and once it’s finished baking, there’s a wonderfully crispy crust around the edges and on the top, which is a great balance for the softness of the soaked bread. And if that weren’t enough, the whiskey cream sauce gives it even more of a sinful quality…I could go on all day. Instead, let’s get started!

The Cast of Characters: Sourdough bread, eggs, butter, vanilla, milk, sugar, and pecans. How much simpler can this get, I ask you?

Start by cutting the sourdough bread into 1-inch cubes.

To do this, cut 1-inch slices…

Then stack three or four slices together.

First cut long, 1-inch slices, then rotate 90 degrees and cut the other way to form cubes.

Keep going until you have anywhere from 3 1/2 to 5 cups of sourdough cubes. (You can save and freeze whatever you have left for next time!)

Start laying sourdough cubes in the bottom of a 9-inch baking dish.

Don’t cram them in, but you want them to fit pretty snugly. Around the perimeter of the dish, arrange the cubes of bread with the crust facing up.

Do the same thing to some of the pieces in the middle. Now, some people who are much more artistic and creative than I might get a little snazzy and OCD with the pattern of the cubes, keeping them in concentric circles or something equally complicated, which would be great. Me? I tend to like the rustic (lazy) look. Notice that you don’t see any large gaps between the cubes.

Next, crack two eggs into a bowl.

Whisk them together.

Add 2 tablespoons melted (and slightly cooled) butter.

Next add 2 1/2 cups milk…

2 cups sugar…

And two TABLESPOONS of vanilla. Boy, that’s a lot of vanilla, but you’ll praise the heavens later.

Whisk everything together thoroughly until sugar is dissolved.

Now pour the mixture evenly over the sourdough cubes, making sure it’s all nicely saturated.

It’ll feel as though you’re absolutely drowning the bread…

But don’t worry—it’ll turn out great!

Now chop 1/3 cup pecans…

Here’s a good way to chop nuts: rest the palm of your hand on the narrow end (and dull side) of the knife, then move the knife in an up-and-down, rocking motion.

Continue until pretty finely chopped.

Now sprinkle the chopped pecans over the bread.

The pecans do add wonderful crispness and flavor, but if you’re like my dear sister and swell up like a bullfrog and start itching wildly and wheeze violently if you consume even the smallest piece of a tree nut, you could certainly omit them.

Now it’s time to pop it into a 325-degree oven and bake for 55 to 70 minutes, or until the bread is nice and golden brown all over the top.

While the bread pudding is cooking, it’s time to make the Whiskey Sauce.

The Cast of Characters: sugar, butter, cream, and Jack Daniels. The stuff that dreams are made of.

Throw all four ingredients into a saucepan and stir together until sugar dissolves.

Stir constantly over low heat until mixture reaches a low boil. Remove from heat and set aside, or pour into a small container, if desired.

Ding-ding-ding! Time to take the pan out of the oven. The dish might appear a little poufy at first, but it will settle over the next few minutes. Look at the beautiful, crispy crust.

Hello, beautiful. I love you. The insidious thing about this dadgum dish is that these individual cubes are so inviting and so easy just to grab straight out of the dish and pop in your mouth. My skinny mother-in-law, in fact, had the audacity to leave the leftovers with me, the meanie. And I spent the next 24 hours popping "just one" cube in my mouth every time I walked by. It became a problem.

With a serving spoon, dish up a nice helping onto a plate. Notice how the "soft" part of the bread still isn’t a soggy mess? The sourdough really gives it character.

Either pour or spoon a small amount of sauce onto each individual serving.

And serve. And weep tears of joy and contentment, because you’ve just made the best bread pudding. Ever.