How a Danish Christmas Rice Pudding Found Its Place in Our Home

And the traditions I chose to honour

Growing up as a Muslim in Washington, DC, I often felt caught between worlds. I loved the sparkle and neon lights of Christmas, but I watched it from afar. My father reminded me of our own traditions and identity, and that we were expats, and would eventually return to our home in Lahore one day. I was caught in that liminal space, between belonging, and not, between here and there.

And yet, traditions have a way of finding new forms in unexpected places. This year, as we stay home in Toronto during Christmas for the first time in years, I have opened up my heart to the customs of another part of our family. My husband Zain’s Danish grandmother, Inge, brought her holiday rituals to Pakistan when she married my husband’s grandfather. Every year, Mor Mor, as she was called, made Risalamande, a light-as-a-cloud rice pudding with cherry sauce, for Danish Christmas Eve. Her story is one of crossing cultures and oceans, much like our own.

As I prepare to make this dish over the holidays for my family, I think of Mor Mor Inge leaving Denmark for Pakistan, where she raised a family steeped in love and tradition. I think of her elegance, her photos reminiscent of Grace Kelly, and the way she wove her Danish heritage into their Pakistani life.

For me, Risalamande isn’t just a dessert, it is a way to honour Zain’s Mor Mor. This dish reminds me that identity isn’t fixed; it’s fluid, shaped by the people we love and the traditions we carry forward in our own way. This year, my son will stir creamy pearls of rice on the stove and help me fold whipped cream into it. We’ll drizzle cardamom-scented cherry sauce over bowls and share stories about the year gone by.

This rice pudding has become our way to celebrate—not Christmas, not Eid, but the warmth of home and family.

Here is the full recipe. Wishing you a lovely holiday period.