Rice Pudding

I am a product of the Scottish education system, and I have very many happy memories of these now somewhat distant days. However, I don't think I can include school dinners in the "happy" category.

Those metal tins that were carried to each table. The crockery that did not always sparkle with cleanliness. The very peculiar occasion of a primary school colleague with a glass eye that fell out into his soup. I kid you not. Those of us - and I am fortunate to count myself in this privileged elite - who witnessed the event first hand, were the heroes of the playground for the rest of the week. Like the myth tellers who arrived in the cities of the ancient world, spreading news of the wonders of the universe. Ok, I'm getting carried away here, it was only Penicuik. Back to the school dinners.

As for the food itself. Mashed processed peas that have left me with a lifelong hatred of mushy peas. Queen of Puddings that looked like something you'd find in a hospital waste bin. Sausages that I can't even bear to describe - we called them the "bags of mystery".

The two undoubted winners were, as runner up, semolina. And in first place, rice pudding. I feel squeamish even remembering it. But I do remember once being forced to finish my plateful. I did warn the teacher that if she made me eat it I'd be sick. She regretted calling my bluff and I hope she carries the memory to this day.

So it was an act of considerable personal bravery for me to choose rice pudding for dessert in one of our favourite restaurants last night. It was delicious. I acknowledge it was not delivered in a stainless steel trough, and the featured armagnac soaked prunes were fabulous.

My rice pudding demon has been exorcised at last. What price the Curriculum For Excellence?