Maybe every family has a dessert like this — something entirely normal on your family table that you haven’t seen on anyone else’s. 

It’s just a regular-ish sort of dish, yet your family has latched onto it and subconsciously promised it a special, if not semi-reverential, place on the table for celebrations. I suppose it wouldn’t have to just be a dessert, but as soon as I thought of one for the Weber side of our family, I immediately knew the one for the Miller side. Based on a highly unscientific sample size of one couple, we can then assume all families also have unique dessert customs, right?

The impetus for these particular musings was the act of making my family’s particular specialty: tapioca. Brian, the kids, and I had all dashed to Ohio for my 99-year-old grandpa’s funeral; Brian had to skedaddle back to chopping, combining, and planting on the farm, but the rest of us stayed behind for a few days to be with family a little longer. During that timeframe, we celebrated my older brother’s birthday with a curated menu of his choosing. He wanted my mom to make poppyseed chicken, an oldie but a goodie, and a pan of jalapeño poppers with fresh garden peppers. 

The question of dessert, however, was not “what” but rather “what kind” or “how many” — no one ever has to wonder what Jon wants. It’s tapioca.

He likes strawberry and peach flavors, but raspberry seems to be his favorite, and this year he requested a batch of that plus a batch of mango.

Now, I have had tapioca on other people’s tables, but not the way Mom makes it. The milky, creamy, warm type you can buy mixes for at the store never even enter into our family’s periphery; I have had that type once or twice, but they are hypocrisy. The only other times I can think of having tapiocas is with extended Weber relatives, actually, yet those too fall into different categories. (Someday I’ll tell the story of my grandma’s spicy tapioca — that’s in a category of its own!)

That said, while I don’t have experiential proof that anyone else makes it, the basic idea for cold, fruity tapioca is right there in the church cookbook for anyone to see, so it’s technically not unheard of. The same is true for the Miller side and their classic-yet-unique dessert; page 147 in the church cookbook, but the only time I’ve ever had graham cracker fluff anywhere besides my in-laws’ table is also at a Miller relative’s house. This fluffy pudding-ing thing has always seemed to me like a funny thing to treasure, yet the enthusiasm for it runs strong through the Miller genes. Similarly to my brother and his tapioca, no one has to wonder what my sister-in-law will request for her birthday. 

Brian assessed our family’s dessert dedications with tell-tale bias: “Tapioca’s fine, but it’s not life-changing like graham cracker fluff.” What a weirdo, I thought…at the same time not discounting that my family has spent decades devoted to a dessert with a texture sometimes referred to as “fish eyes and frog eggs.” 

So to each their own, I suppose. Maybe our kids will carry both into their own traditions — but I know which one I’ll choose.

Creamy Mango Tapioca

This was our first time experimenting with mango here, and while we will tweak it here and there in the future, I thought it was delicious. I never look forward to tapioca quite like the rest of my family, but then when I’m eating it, I realize I could just keep going. If you are familiar with this dessert, or with graham cracker fluff, please prove my familial theory wrong and tell me about it. 

Prep tips: The canned mango pulp was the magic here, but if you can’t find any, blend up some fresh or frozen mango.

• 5 cups water

• ¾ cup baby pearl tapioca

• ½ cup sugar, to taste

• 1 tablespoon plain gelatin

• 2 cups canned mango puree

• 1-2 mangoes, peeled and diced

• juice of 1 lime

• a large dollop of Cool Whip (or whipped cream)

Cook tapioca in water for 20 minutes or until tapioca is clear; remove from heat and let cool slightly. Combine sugar and gelatin, then whisk into tapioca along with mango puree. Cool completely, then stir in diced mango, lime juice, and cool whip.

Lettuce Eat Local is a weekly local foods column by Amanda Miller, who lives in rural Reno County on the family dairy farm with her husband and two small children. She seeks to help build connections through food with her community, the earth, and the God who created it all. Send feedback and recipe ideas to hyperpeanutbutter@gmail.com.