There were many recipes for steamed puddings in Grandma's box, and some of them were so similar to each other that I decided not to test them all. This one, however, was different. For one thing, there was a name at the top of someone who was very dear to our family. Betty was the wife of my grandma's nephew, and she visited our family from England several times. She always had a smile on her face, except for the time my mother served her corn on the cob and she refused to eat it, proclaiming that corn was for cows.
Betty's recipe differed from Grandma's typical recipe in other ways: it contained both orange and lemon juice--the zest and the juice--the quantity of eggs and flour was larger, and it called for brandy, which I highly doubt Grandma would have used. I was curious to see how it would taste.
Before starting on the pudding, I thought I might change things up a bit by trying another recipe in Grandma's box, this one for Candied Peel.
As usual the cooking directions were vague, so I had no idea how long to cook the peel. Long story, short: it was a disaster.
Okay, then. No homemade candied peel for us.
I turned my attention to a process I knew well, the pudding-making. The first thing to do was enlist helpers because, as I mentioned in this post and this post, making pudding is as much about the tradition as it is about the finished product.
Fortunately, I had two little helpers staying with me. They took care of the grinding of the raisins, sultanas, and (store-bought) candied peel. We set that aside to continue the process the next day, when they wouldn't be there.
While the grating and chopping were taking place, I creamed together some butter and two kinds of sugar together. No, the recipe didn't call for butter. It called for suet, but that's hard to find around here. Grandma had figured out a workable substitution in butter or margarine, so I used butter.
I then added three eggs, one at a time, and beat that well.
We then added the zest and juice of the orange and lemon and stirred in the grated apples.
Next, we added the dried fruits that had been ground the day before. In hindsight, I should have added them to the flour first, which would have made it easier to break up some of the larger chunks. But I didn't and this was what we got.
Next, my helpers and I added the nuts and brandy, which I had begged from someone else. Alcohol is not something I normally cook with, but I wanted to stay as close to the original recipe as possible, at least this time, so I would know if I would want to make it again.
We then mixed the dry ingredients with the breadcrumbs and added that mixture to the wet slurry of ingredients happening in the other bowl.
Everyone took a turn stirring.
The mixture was done. This recipe said to "leave in pan overnight." I wasn't sure what that meant, but with those raw eggs and butter, I did feel like refrigeration was necessary. The next day, I took it out (it had thickened quite a bit) and placed half of the mixture in my pudding mold and half in a Mason jar for steaming. Both mold and jar were lowered into boiling water and left to steam for several hours. The recipe said six, but since I had divided the mixture into two portions, I set the timer for three hours, the length of time Grandma usually said to steam a pudding.
I had read that a pudding is done at 98 degrees celcius. When I checked the pudding in the mold, it was not quite there so I left it for 15 minutes. This is what it looked like when it was done.
It was pretty, but it was also plain that there were still large chunks of dried fruits here and there. How would that affect the taste? There was only one way to know.
We sliced the pudding while still warm, topped it with Butterscotch Sauce, and dolloped on some lightly sweetened whipped cream.
It was richly spiced, sweet and tangy at the same time. Everyone at the table declared it to be good, and I agreed with them. It was good, but . . . it was a little too sweet and a little too tangy for me. Maybe I was just used to the way Grandma's puddings always tasted when I was young, and this wasn't quite that.
However, I did taste the leftovers a day or so later and found that I liked it more than I had when it was served fresh from the steamer. Maybe it had mellowed. Or maybe my taste buds had gotten used to the idea of tasting something different from what Grandma always made. Or, maybe it was because I hadn't added the sauce. I'd had it with whipped cream only, and that cut the sweetness to a level that was just right.
To sum up, if you're looking for an authentic English Christmas Pudding, you've found it. My advice would be to skip the extra sauce and choose a simple slathering of whipped cream.