When I was a kid, my mom had wonderful heavy glass dessert cups, with stems. She made space in the refrigerator for a tray, then placed the dessert cups on the tray on the counter. After she’d cooked pudding, or mixed up Jell-O, she poured the desserts into them, assuring an even portion for everyone in the family.

I learned to absolutely love the “skin” on the top of the pudding! It was the best part!

At this time, 41 years ago, I was expecting my first child. My OB/GYN was a fantastic person. He was the on-call physician for a local women’s prison, and the County Coroner. Sometimes I sat in the waiting room with a group of orange-clad ladies whose legs and hands were cuffed. I’m sure he made each of them feel as valued as he made me, a pregnant newlywed college student, even though I wasn’t very settled with all the new changes in my life.

He loved to talk about food! He was dependent on his wife’s cooking, and had had mishaps with the microwave. One day, he asked, “Have you ever had crumpets?” He had tasted them during a college semester in England, many years ago, even then. “Crumpets!” He said, were “So much better than English Muffins!” He went on to tell me he couldn’t believe that Americans didn’t eat crumpets exclusively.