Red velvet cake scraps make a bread pudding that ought to be illegal.

“This is insane!” I said as I spooned the ingredients into the slow cooker.

And it was. Taking one dessert and using it as the first ingredient in another dessert is an exercise in excess. It’s so decadent it’s almost a perversion. As I said: insane. And I stand by that assessment.

I’m happy to report that insanity tastes so very good.

I was inspired to make this bread pudding when I learned that a local bakery, Magpies, sells boxes of cake scraps for just a few bucks. They have parts leftover from cutting cakes into shapes or shearing off the tops before frosting. The cake pieces are buttery-rich even on their own.

Bread puddings are said to be a cinch in the crock-pot, slow cooking in the moist heat like the famous steamed British puddings. When I saw a box of red velvet cake scraps for sale at Magpies, inspiration struck like a big, fat, sugary bolt of lightning.

I researched several bread pudding recipes before creating this one, which reduces the liquid in most recipes since we’re making it in the moisture-rich crock-pot biosphere, and it also has much less sugar (when you start with red velvet cake, you can presume a certain level of sweetness.)

The resulting cake-based bread pudding is invitingly warm, sweet, and a trollop-y dark red. You often hear desserts described as sinful. Well, this one is a bad, bad girl.

Tastes good before you're even halfway there.

Slow Cooker Red Velvet Cake Bread Pudding Recipe

Ingredients:

6 cups red velvet cake, unfrosted, cut into cubes
1 1/2 cups milk or cream
1/2 tsp vanilla
3 eggs
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup white chocolate chips or chunks

Directions: Place cake cubes in the crock of your slow cooker. In a separate bowl, whisk together cream, vanilla, eggs and sugar. Pour mixture over red velvet cake. Sprinkle in white chocolate chips and stir slightly to combine.

Cook on high 2-3 hours. (You can try cooking it more slowly at your own risk. With dishes involving raw eggs, I always use the high setting to cook them at a safe temperature.)

Serve British-style with fresh cream poured over the top, or red-blooded American-style with Cool Whip. Whichever you choose, serve it while it’s warm.

This makes a tremendous batch. You’ll be glad.

This version is lighter on the butter, relying on Irish whiskey for its decadence. You can serve a compote on its own, or top it with fresh cream, creme fraiche, or Cool Whip, depending on your taste, mood, or budget. It’s even better as a topping itself, with the warm pears melting into a cool scoop of vanilla bean ice cream.

Slow-cooking these pears is like simmering potpourri: the whole house will smell like a Bangalore spice shop.

I luckily inherited a collection of amber glass compote dishes from my fiance's mother.

Whiskey-Poached Pears Recipe

4 Bosc pears
1/2 cup Irish whiskey
1/4 cup butter, cut into small pieces
1 tbsp honey
6 whole star anise
8-11 whole cloves (about 1 tbsp)
1 tsp whole peppercorns
1 whole cinnamon stick

Directions: Cut pears into quarters and remove stems and core. Slice into thin slices. Combine all ingredients in the bottom of slow cooker. Cook on low for 3-4 hours.

Warm and spicy meets cool and creamy.

Tips: Be sure and remove the whole spices before serving to anyone who doesn’t know to avoid crunching into whole pieces of star anise and peppercorn.

Adjust the spices to your own taste, adding a dusting of extra black pepper before serving, or cutting back on the cloves as your preferences dictate. You can use ground spices if you have them on hand, keeping the proportions to no more than about a half teaspoon apiece.

The longer you cook the compote, the more the pears will caramelize and the spices will infuse their aroma and flavor. Add extra whiskey if you want, but be aware that the liquid will not cook down in a slow cooker, which keeps the moisture in. Any liquid added will remain in the crock, so expect a soupier compote.

Leftover pears can be treated like a chutney, so you can enjoy them later on a pork sandwich, spread on toast like a chunky jam, or eaten with Brie on a piece of baguette.