Here's what happens: the weather man predicts some snow and/or sleet and freezing rain, and everyone flocks to the grocery store to buy eggs, milk, bread and toilet paper. No one really knows why, but I have a theory.
Now toilet paper I get. No one wants to be caught out on the can with no paper in the house. One can use anything to wipe, really; an old sock, a paper towel, a page out of the Victoria's Secret catalog, etc., but it's never a good idea. Cleaning up with anything other than the paper made for that purpose tends to leave the roundeye agitated and angry.
But bread, milk, and eggs? I don't get it. Why those foods and not red onions and bagged lettuce? A couple nice steaks and some cole slaw? Townhouse crackers and kumquats?
We discussed this one day last winter at the Vortex, and decided that everyone gets some weird collective urge to make bread pudding. Now I know the fact that people aren't buying up all the sugar and cinnamon as well put a hole in this theory, but bear with me.
The weather man is prophesying certain doom by way of a winter storm, which leads people to think about the apocalypse. Thinking about the apocalypse caused people to wonder, "Whatever does one feed the hordes from the Pit of Hell?" Then some kind of instinct kicks in, possibly the result of race memory and evolution, and everyone goes, "Why, bread pudding, of course!"
In keeping with this, I've come up with a recipe. Write it down and put it in your recipe box, or tuck it in your Bible (perferably in the book of Revelation.)
Apocalypse Bread Pudding
3 Loaves of bread
1/2 dozen (6) eggs
3 cups milk
1/2 C. sugar
2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
pinch of despair.
Preheat oven to 425, unless your neighborhood has begun to burn in which case pudding can be baked on the sidewalk.
Combine ingredients and pour in to baking dish.
Bake for 45 minutes; top should be brown and crispy.
Garnish with coppery red sauce, or eyeball rosettes.
Serve in warmed pottery bowls, while weeping and gnashing teeth.
Serves four horsemen.