Old Cob also tells us that he has skill:

Even though his other skills have seemingly abandoned him, our 'innkeeper' still musters self-confidence (and perhaps a smidgen of pride) in his food. 

And, crucially, Kvothe has lots of flavour-filled experiences to draw on for inspiration. Throughout the story he tells, he never takes a meal for granted and he pays attention to what he's eating. While a sizeable chunk of his early life was spent 'Too hungry to worry about tomorrow', the Kvothe we're with in the frame story appears to have plenty of time on his hands to recall his yesterdays. I like to think some of the puddings he's such a dab hand at are  informed by these recollections. 

With that in mind, here are five speculative Waystone puddings. Click on the pictures to jump to the respective recipes and rationale. 

I'll be taking on another big Kingkiller Cook later this year – perhaps pies, soups or food for the road.  If you can't wait until then for something savoury, here's some beef stew and some potato and bacon soup from The Name of the Wind.

[Laia] My mouth waters, and I long for Nan’s food. We never had much, but whatever we did have was made with love, which I now know transforms simple fare into a feast. Here, we eat the Commandant’s scraps, and no matter how hungry I am, they taste like sawdust.
 . . .
​[Elias] Someone shoves a plate of spiced kabobs into my hand. Someone else, a drink.

There's little room for love in the food at Blackcliff. The students in Sabaa Tahir's An Ember in the Ashes are commonly served 'swill' and 'slop' that plops unappetizingly on the plate. Even celebratory kabobs are 'shoved' not shared. It's a cruel place bereft of kindness, especially when compared with Nan's kitchen which is fragrant with sweetness and spice and familial affection. Because I think I can avoid the eye of the Commandant, I've had Nan's apricot jam infiltrate the kabob recipe to help transform this fare into a feast.