Not so long ago, I overhead a conversation at the village Starbucks,
“The bread pudding over at Joey’s is amazing….like amamamamzzzing!”
I leaned in closer,
“sometimes they serve it with whipped cream and honey and all that nonsense, but the best is when you have it plain. It’s perfect.”
Whooooao. My head was spinning. Good bread pudding near Claremont? I’ve been at school here for over a year, how could my bread pudding radar have failed to detect this?! So I spoke my way into the conversation and jotted down the address of Joey’s BBQ. I almost felt like I was holding the winning lottery ticket. Victory!
Or so I thought. Trisha offered to drive me to Joey’s later that night, where I placed my takeout bread pudding order ($5). Joey’s is well known for their bbq, but really, who wants meat when you can have pudding? We were in and out in less than 10 minutes, with my warm pudding carefully packed in a container then sealed in a brown paper bag. I convinced Trisha to speed west across Route 66 (less excitingly known at Foothill) and then down Claremont Blvd. so we could make it to my dorm room before the pudding cool down.
I ran up the three flights of stairs, pudding in one hand, keys in the other and tore apart the package as soon as I sat down. This is what I saw. It looks like solidified snot, with a thin, burnt top. It was a big piece, that was for sure, but that was the only thing Joey’s Bread Pudding had going for it. Very dry, so rubbery that my plastic fork had major issues trying to cut a piece, so I had to use a knife. And it tasted like…nothing. Like absolutely nothing. There was no custardy part to balance it out, and there was no way of distinguishing the ‘bread’ from the ‘pudding’. In fact, I really have no idea what that was, other than disgusting.
The container of whipped cream on the other hand, was quite another story. Thick, yet light in the way that only whipped cream could be, it was cool and clearly whipped up nice and fine from heavy cream, it bore a slight hint of vanilla (extract that is, but imagine how much more magical it would be if they used real beans!). A generous drizzle of honey to finish it off, and that was dessert on it’s own. A failed bread pudding? Yes. Failed trek for dessert? Almost. The cream saved the night!
But honestly, that bread pudding stank. I think I deserve a refund. Or at least a trip to their kitchen to see what goes into that creature, cause it certainly was not bread, eggs and butter!
1964 W.Foothill Blvd.
Upland, CA 91786
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