Culinary Chronicles
The Old Monk Secret – How My Rum & Chocolate Pudding Soothed a General to Sleep over the Aravallis
By Yasmin Rahul Bakshi
It was one of those afternoons in the Aravallis when even the hills seemed to be holding their breath.
The sun was glaring, merciless, turning the whole range into a shimmering, silent wall of gold and dust. And tucked inside that heat was our whitewashed officer’s mess, looking calm from the outside, but inside? A full-blown pressure cooker.
It’s been almost ten years now. Yet the memory refuses to fade. It still lingers, rich and decadent. Carrying the sweet, unforgettable hangover of the Rum and Chocolate Pudding.
It all started when our General Officer Commanding, Major General MLN Sravan Kumar, entrusted me with the entire responsibility. He did not just suggest it, he handed it over. “You will take complete charge of the culinary curation for the Corps Commander’s visit,” he said.
Just like that, the pressure was entirely on my shoulders. My husband Tiger, who was standing right there, just gave me a look that said, all the best, you have just been handed an operation without a uniform. Though such operations were not new to me.
And we weren’t serving standard cantonment fare. Oh no. We threw out the traditional playbook and curated a daring, unconventional seven-course menu blending delicate English and French gastronomy.
For days, our lives revolved around dry drills, endless tasting sessions and logistical gymnastics. The mess kitchen, charming as it was, simply wasn’t built for haute cuisine.
So we improvised. We pitched makeshift pantries in sturdy canvas tents just outside, wiring them with heavy-duty ovens, microwaves and whirring refrigerators to fight off the searing desert heat. Gourmet ingredients were tracked down and rushed in from Delhi and Jaipur. There was zero room for error.
By noon on D-Day, the transformation was complete. The ladies arrived in their dazzling finery, subtle chiffons catching the light, while the officers cut sharp figures in crisp, open-collared summer uniforms. All eager to welcome our guest of honour, Lt General Shokin Chauhan.
Inside, I was a bundle of raw nerves, walking entirely on my toes. My eyes darted across the dining hall with hawk-like vigilance. Tiger kept passing by and whispering, “Breathe.”
Then the lunch began to unfurl like a multi-layered masterpiece. Course after exquisite course left the improvised tent kitchens, drawing murmurs of genuine appreciation. Every single course was not merely served, it was introduced with a narrative accompanied by the tale of its heritage and historical evolution.
Gen Chauhan was thoroughly captivated, pausing between courses to openly praise the quality and thought behind the food.
Yet, the true climax awaited at the very end. A light, ethereal mango soufflé alongside the piece de resistance, the Rum and Chocolate Pudding.
Now, every host has her little moments of kitchen intuition. As I gave the chocolate pudding its final touches, a mischievous impulse took over. A little extra spirit won’t hurt, I thought. Unintentionally, or perhaps guided by divine culinary providence, I poured in a generous, heavy-handed splash of Old Monk.
The transformation was magic. The potent, caramel warmth of the dark rum melted into the rich, velvety chocolate, turning an ordinary dessert into something deeply addictive and dangerously seductive.
Gen Sahib sat down to dessert and indulged in it lavishly, savouring every single spoonful with undisguised delight.
An hour later, lunch concluded to thunderous praise and the General boarded his waiting chopper. With a belly full of fine cuisine and a heavy dose of spiked chocolate, he settled into his seat for the flight back and enjoyed a wonderfully deep, uninterrupted afternoon siesta cruising high above the Aravallis.
I was just about to finally sit down when Mrs Sridevi Maroor, our GOC’s wife, made her royal announcement. Mrs Maroor was very fond of Tiger. In fact, in our entire cantonment, Tiger was her favourite. So when she spoke, Tiger automatically stood a little straighter.
She took one look at the leftovers and said in that sweet but absolutely non-negotiable voice, “Nothing will be wasted. Send all the leftovers to our residence for dinner. And all of you, you are all coming home tonight. We need to party after such a successful event.”
The staff looked at me, I looked at the leftover pudding and the pudding looked back at me very innocently. My top-secret, extra-spiked pudding had just got a second posting, straight to the GOC’s dining table at the historical Rang Mahal that featured traditional artwork and fresco mirrors under the princely state era.
That evening at Mrs Maroor’s home, we were all there again, same faces, now in relaxed evening clothes, heroically eating the same brilliant menu all over again. Everyone went for a second, very generous helping of the famous pudding.
And as it happens in the Aravallis after dark, the topic slowly shifted to the most favourite time-pass, paranormal activities and the nearby Bhangarh Fort.
Someone said Bhangarh was the most haunted fort in India, someone else whispered about strange voices in the ruins after sunset. The rum in the pudding was now doing its own storytelling and everyone was suddenly very brave and very sleepy at the same time.
Right in the middle of all the ghost stories, Mrs Maroor, who was on her second helping of pudding and was feeling particularly adventurous, turned to Tiger and announced, “Tiger, I have heard so much about Bhangarh. I want to go. Make arrangements.”
The whole room burst out laughing. Tiger, who had just survived a Corps Commander’s lunch – a seven-course operation and two helpings of Old Monk soaked pudding, now had a new operation. A haunted fort excursion with Mrs Maroor as his commander.
He looked at me and I just shrugged. I thought to myself, my pudding has already made one General sleep peacefully in a helicopter, now it is recruiting ghosts in Bhangarh.
And right then, as if on cue, my phone buzzed. It was a direct call from the top. Gen Chauhan, still in that warm, mellow, just woken up from the best nap voice, lauded the meal from the first snack to the last course and asked what exactly was in that pudding that had given him such a remarkably peaceful afternoon sleep.
I looked at Mrs Maroor earnestly convincing Tiger to plan a trip to Bhangarh, at the whole room full of sleepy, giggly, pudding-filled faces and I just smiled.
I kept the secret of the extra Old Monk safe. Some secrets are too good, too potent and too full of ghosts to ever be confessed.
Ingredients:
- Full-fat milk – 500 ml
- Heavy cream – 200 ml
- Dark chocolate 70% – 180 gm (finely chopped)
- Caster sugar – 80 g
- Cornstarch – 30 g (3 tbsp)
- Unsweetened cocoa powder – 20 g
- Egg yolks – 2
- Unsalted butter – 20 g
- Dark rum – 6 tbsp
- Vanilla extract – 1 tsp
- Sea salt – 1/4 tsp
Method
- In a bowl, whisk sugar, cornstarch, cocoa powder and salt. Add 100 ml of the cold milk and whisk to a smooth slurry. If using egg yolks, whisk them into this slurry now.
- In a saucepan, heat the remaining 400 ml milk and the cream until it just starts to simmer.
- Pour half the hot milk slowly into the cornstarch slurry while whisking continuously. Then pour that back into the saucepan.
- Cook on medium-low heat, stirring constantly, for 4-6 minutes until it thickens to a custard that coats the back of a spoon.
- Take off heat. Immediately add chopped chocolate and butter. Stir until completely melted and glossy.
- Stir in rum and vanilla. The pudding will be smooth and thick.
- Pour into 4 serving glasses or bowls. Cover with cling wrap touching the surface so skin does not form. Refrigerate for at least 8 hours.
- Serve chilled.
(If you want it eggless, skip the yolks and use 50 gm cornstarch instead of 30 gm.)
(Yasmin Rahul Bakshi is an accomplished senior consultant Chef and a food historian. A widely travelled Army wife from the Mussoorie hills with exposure to international cuisines & preserving recipes with the medium of food photography and digital content creation in the form of stories.)
