One of my deepest joys in cooking is making food that is not only meatless, but unpretentious and welcoming for anyone at the table. This pudding is entirely built on plants—adaptable if a friend is avoiding coconut, or if your fruit bowl is looking a little sad. My mantra: cook kindly, serve joy, and let nobody feel left out.
To make the Mango Chia Pudding, you will need the following ingredients:
To a jar or glass, add 3 tablespoons chia seeds, 1 tablespoon maple syrup or any sweetener of choice, and 1 cup coconut milk or any unsweetened plant milk of choice. Stir until well combined.
Let it sit for 15 minutes, then stir again to prevent clumps.
Cover and refrigerate until the mixture thickens and reaches a pudding-like consistency. A tip: If desired, separate the chia pudding into two smaller portions before chilling.
Once the chia pudding has thickened, blend together the diced mango and ½ cup coconut milk until smooth.
Top the chia pudding with the prepared mango topping and serve.
You don’t need a gadget parade for this one—just a few loyal friends. A glass jar (preferably one you can peer into and watch those magic seeds swell) and a decent spoon or whisk. My cutting board is always close at hand, along with my old, slightly battered knife—the only thing sharp enough to handle a ripe mango without ending up with juice all over the cat (Olive still bears witness to those early attempts). If you have a small blender or food processor, use it to turn the mango into a golden silk. Fridge is obligatory: patience makes the texture sing.
I always say, what you put in is what you get out. For the creamiest result, use coconut milk from a can—the full-fat stuff, no weird stabilisers. The texture clings, not in a pudding from a packet way, but in a spoon-standing-proud way. Sweetness is all about your mango. Wait for one truly ripe—slightly soft, fragrant, the kind that gives in when you press your thumb and promises juice on your chin. An unripe mango just wears the pudding like a fancy hat, but never really joins the party.
Let those chia seeds soak properly. I give them a good stir, leave them be for fifteen minutes, then come back and stir again—this stops clumps turning up in unfortunate places. Overnight is even better if you have the patience. It’s like they swell with self-esteem in the fridge, quietly doing their job while you sleep. If you end up with a pudding that’s too thick, just add more coconut milk and smile. Too runny? Let it sit and thicken. No drama.
Do not be shy with toppings. Honestly, some mornings I add a sprinkle of toasted coconut, a scattering of pistachios, or whatever fruit is threatening mutiny in the fruit bowl. Every topping is a chance to paint a new picture.
Tropical Mischief: Why stop at mango? Add pineapple chunks—blend some with the mango, let some sit on top and look pretty. Throw in a handful of coconut shreds. Every bite is a postcard home from a never-ending holiday.
Berry Daydream: Sometimes I crave a break from the tropics, so I swap half the mango for strawberries or blueberries and blend them straight in with the coconut milk. It’s a bowl full of late summer, flecked with magenta and blue. If I’m feeling wild, I dollop a spoonful of almond yogurt on top because color should be tasted, not just seen.
I like to layer mine in a glass so you get to see the contrast—golden mango on top, snowy white pudding beneath. Sprinkle with toasted coconut, chopped pistachios, or whatever crunchy thing you have on hand. For a breakfast that keeps pace with you: a thick slice of rye bread with avocado, and this pudding on the side (Olive, my cat, also lurks during this ritual). For dessert, I sit cross-legged with herbal tea or something white and crisp in a glass—whatever makes you feel fancy in slippers. No big ceremony, just eat it slowly. Let it melt, and maybe remember a holiday.
Can I use a different milk? Absolutely—almond, oat, soy, whatever calls your name. Coconut milk is my favorite because it reminds me of Thai markets, but use what you love. Each brings its own mood. If you pick rice milk, though, expect it to be lighter and less rich.
Too thick? Too thin? Welcome to the club! If it comes out solid enough to trowel onto a wall, stir in more milk. Too soupy? Fridge time, and it’ll firm up. Chia is forgiving, so don’t panic.
How long does it last? I make a big jar on Sunday. Mine is usually gone by Tuesday afternoon (I blame the cat’s psychic powers), but in theory, it should last around four days in the fridge, tightly covered. It even tastes better by day two, as if the flavors start gossiping overnight.
Frozen mango: Does it work? Yes, yes, yes. Let it thaw so you can blend it creamy. Frozen is convenient and, honestly, sometimes sweeter than ‘fresh’ supermarket mango in February. Use what you have and trust the process.
How do I make it more filling? If you need extra fuel, I stir in a scoop of pea protein powder (plain, so it doesn’t crash the flavor party). Or go for handfuls of toasted seeds and nuts on top—eating consciously and listening to your body is always the secret ingredient.
This Mango Chia Pudding recipe is the perfect solution when you're looking for a flexible dish that fits various occasions. Whether you're preparing it for breakfast, seeking a refreshing dessert, or needing a wholesome snack, this recipe checks all the boxes. With just a few basic ingredients, you can whip up a vibrant and satisfying option that’s both nourishing and enjoyable.
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