Custard. My mother's custard is a grey, gelatinous mess that tastes worse than it looks - it's the sort of thing I imagine that the authorities would serve in prisons to deter people from committing crimes upon their release in case they were sent back and had to eat it again.

In her younger days she used to make a tangy citrus dessert that was actually delicious, but we called it "lemon surprise" because it never, ever came out the same way twice. I must ask her to do that again next time I visit.