Shootout at the Krispy Kreme Corral

Not many people know this, but I love a good western. I especially love the classic showdown where the hero goes riding toward the band of bad guys, gun in each hand and reins in his mouth. Good stuff!

I had my own personal shootout courtesy of Chef Anne from Chef on Call. I was just casually hanging around her internet saloon when what should come through the doors but this infernal recipe. I could smell the stench of that Krispy Kreme bread pudding already. I slowly turned around, swallowing my last drop of whiskey. My gun hand creeped toward the holster.

"You've either got a lot of guts coming in here," I said,"Or a distinct lack of brains."

"I got enough of the first, and a message from Paula." He said. "She says you're too yeller to make this dessert and feature it on your blog."

"I don't take kindly to insults. Don't make me head butt yer pansy ass into tomorrow." I came closer, within spitting distance. "I'll see you in the kitchen, punk."

I mean, I was challenged. What was I supposed to do?

In any case, I knew that I couldn't resist the opportunity to make, from what I can gather, the most point-filled dessert ever. Heck, I wasn't just going to make it, I was going to eat a bite or two and even go through the horrific math of figuring out how many points were in each serving. I've had 3 years of calculus, so I should be up to it.

At first glance, the recipe seems rather daunting. Any dessert that measures sugar in boxes, butter in sticks and doughnuts by the dozen has got to be evil. Truth is that it was extremely easy to put together. Mostly the recipe consisted of opening boxes and dumping the ingredients into a bowl. Letting the pudding sit in the fridge covered for 30 minutes allowed everything to gel together.

I'd read in the reviews section that the pudding tended to dry out over cooking, so I took out some insurance and covered the dish with foil for the first 45 minutes. I didn't have the rum for the butter rum sauce, so I improvised and used some OJ and vanilla extract. I just kept adding both until I had the consistency and flavor down.

The bread pudding came roaring out of the oven with a rush of cinnamon-spiked hot air, and I quickly poured the molten fat and sugar sauce over the top. My arteries tightened in horror.

I wasn't about to eat this monstrosity by myself, so I chose my fantasy league's All Star game party as a venue. That way I could feed it to all my skinny friends with enough left over for a bite and a picture or two. Everyone thought it was awesome, especially my Sox-loving friend Victor.

I compare the experience of eating this dish to, surprisingly enough, eating a dozen hot glazed Krispy Kremes (which I've actually done in an eating contest back in my ultra-fat days). The first one or two hot bites go down easy, but once it starts to cool it congeals into a sweet fatty mess. Moral of the story, eat it hot out of the oven and quickly.

Taste wise, it's like getting a kick to the crotch by Captain Sweetness. It was almost overwhelming enough to mask the pain of the NL blowing it in the ninth (stupid power-hitting American Leaguers). The raisins, fruit cocktail and the cinnamon all amplify the KK core and the butter sauce pushes it way over the edge. The first bites were awesome, but by number five or six I didn't want anymore. Ever.

That brings us to counting time. The recipe supposedly serves 12, but I think that's totally insane. If someone can eat a twelfth of this recipe, they should get a free t-shirt. And a stomach pump. By my calculation, the recipe has a staggering total of 242 gut-expanding points. If you're looney enough to split it 12 ways (you can double that for normal humans), that comes to a whopping 20 points per serving. To put things in perspective, I get 24 points per day on Weight Watchers.

Well now I can finally say that I took this cardiovascular bull by the horns and lived to write about it. Only time (and next week's weigh-in) will be able to tell if it stays down.