I yearn for my mother’s perfect rice pudding. You will, too

January happens to be an especially celebratory month for my family and me. My younger brother’s birthday falls on the first day of the year. My parents’ anniversary arrives just a few weeks later. And my birthday beautifully closes out the entire month.

For us, January is a month of indulgences, namely the sweet kind. It’s when we enjoy slices of birthday cake to our hearts’ content, savoring every single crumb and licking our plates clean of any frosting. It’s when we make it a point to request a complimentary dessert when we go out to eat, regardless of how full our bellies may be. But most importantly, it’s when we savor bowls upon bowls of my mother’s homemade rice pudding.

In our Bengali household, traditional rice pudding is called Payesh. But to others within the Desi diaspora, it’s Kheer, Khiri, Phirni, Payasam, Paal Payasam and Gil-e-Firdaus. Many of these terms are rooted in Sanskrit: Kheer originates from the Sanskrit term kshira, which means milk or a dish made from milk; Payesh and Payasam originate from the Sanskrit term pāyasa, which means the same.

With the dessert’s many names come many historical recollections of its origin. “The widespread nature of Kheer and other rice puddings have brought to light several disputes about the origins of the beloved dessert, but it is evident that Kheer has been a feature in South Asian diets dating back centuries, owing to its mention in Ayurveda,” wrote Riyadh-based pastry chef and food journalist Nashwa Ansari. Payesh is believed to have originated nearly 2,000 years ago, as an offering to the Hindu gods in the Lord Jagannath Temple in Orissa, the former name of the eastern Indian state of Odisha. Today, Payesh has become more than just a dessert — it’s a symbol of both prosperity and good fortune. Payesh is commonly enjoyed during several auspicious occasions: birthdays, weddings, religious festivals and baby showers. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so far-fetched to say that us Bengalis have an ingrained adoration for Payesh. It’s in our blood. After all, many of us have savored it before we’ve even come out of the womb.

I’ve always loved Payesh growing up, but recently, I’ve come to appreciate its quiet beauty. Payesh isn’t ostentatious, it doesn’t demand to be seen. Nor is it complicated to master. It’s simple and humble yet deliciously rich.

There’s an art to making Payesh, too. I still have vivid memories of birthdays past, watching my mother open her large rice drum to scoop out cups of short-grained rice, then wash it under running water, making sure no grain escaped into the dark abyss that is the sink drain. There’s the bubbling hum of rice boiling on the stove, the intoxicating aroma of warm milk infused with jaggery and fresh pods of cardamom filling the house with a scent no candle could compete with. Within minutes, fresh Payesh was served, beckoning everyone to the dining table with an unspoken yet unifying urge. We’re all hungry. But most importantly, we’re all looking forward to reveling in the sheer comfort that a pot of warm Payesh can evoke.

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A few weeks ago, when I was back home in Maryland for the holidays, I was telling my mother about my months-long craving for rice pudding. It all started when I’d found myself inside a rice pudding establishment in Lower Manhattan while running errands. There I was, standing in front of a counter full of various flavors — caramel, cheese cake, carrot cake, rum & raisin. Although my stomach growled with anticipation, my heart and mind remained unsettled. This rice pudding wasn’t my mother’s. Deep down, I yearned for her’s.

I’ve come to the realization that my mother’s Payesh has become a delicacy for me now that I’ve moved away from home. I know it will be there to welcome me back, like a deep hug, when I do return to celebrate those special moments with my loved ones. But until then, there’s only one way to satisfy those cravings: learn to make my mother’s Payesh myself.

I’ll be honest, I was pretty intimidated to attempt this recipe. I was afraid it wouldn’t taste the same as the pudding I’d grown up loving. But I was pleasantly surprised, with both the pudding and my ability to make it.

If you’re craving rice pudding this season, be sure to give this recipe a try. It’s inspired by my mother’s homemade Payesh and includes a non-dairy option for my fellow lactose intolerant warriors.

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