It was summer, a few years ago, and we were at a dear friend’s house, finishing up a lovely, casual supper, when out of the fridge they came: little cups filled with chia pudding.
The guests — none of whom had tasted this before — were all polite, but the expressions around the table were quizzical, not enthusiastic. Chia puddings, if you haven’t had the pleasure, can sometimes suffer from a texture that might be charitably referred to as “viscous,” less charitably as “slimy.” And this version had slime to spare. Plus, those little seeds don’t carry much of their own flavor, and one of the only other ingredients was soy milk — a recipe for blandness.
Why use them? Two reasons, for starters. One, they have levels of essential omega-3 acids unrivaled by any other plant-based food, one of many nutritional benefits that are no doubt behind their continued surge in popularity. (According to the research group Mintel, the number of global products containing chia seeds increased by a whopping 472 percent between 2012 and 2017.) Two, the same gelling ability that can lead to a slimy texture (not to mention a primordial, frog-larva look) also means they can magically hold together liquids for a take on a pudding that requires no custard making, or cooking of any kind. Try that with cornstarch.
Still, I’ve thought many times about that dinner party, especially when I see the flood of chia puddings on Instagram and Pinterest. Could that many food bloggers really be wrong? I decided to try my own hand, to see whether my distaste at that first exposure was about the recipe, execution or something more fundamental. So I spent a few weeks playing around with recipes from blogs, websites and cookbooks.