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Since no work was permitted on the Sabbath, they prepared Saturday's meal in advance, assembling a stew, a cholent, with potatoes, barley, and sometimes a piece of meat. A sweet and savory pudding made from leftover bread simmered within the stew. Her mother removed the pot from the coal stove and covered it with brown paper, then tied it around several times with string. Sala wrote their name on the paper and carefully carried the large pot around the corner to Shimon the baker, who inserted it on a long paddle into the recesses of his giant oven. together with dozens of other pots from neighbors, each tied and identified, ready to be served hot for the next afternoon's meal.

-Sala's Gift by Ann Kirschner

Bread pudding is both good and weird at the same time. It tastes sweet and filling, yet I sit there thinking that it's a weird texture for bread - but yet again, it's not exactly bread anymore; then I think that it's a weird texture for pudding, but it's not exactly pudding either. It's almost like it is in this in between state of bread and pudding: not quite one or the other. A twilight zone of sorts.