Thursday, December 26, 2013

Scruffy husband sets dessert on fire

Aimee said I shouldn't post this because it shows me in my food-stained lounging-around-the-house sweat pants, albeit after cooking and eating Christmas dinner yesterday, but I'm not proud and have never been a fashion plate, so I doubt it will come as a shock to readers that we like to be comfy here at Womerlippi Farm.

I was hankering after a proper Christmas pud, literally like mum used to make. I didn't have her recipe -- sister Carol probably has that in one of mum's cookbooks -- so I had to find one. I used a BBC recipe from here. The Beeb has a great online recipe system, and each one comes with how-to pictures and videos.

In the past I've used a microwave recipe, but I wanted to try a proper steam-it-for-hours-and-hours pudding. Mum used to make Christmas pudding like this, as well as chocolate and treacle pudding, all very traditional British stick-to-yer-ribs stuff. This, and the fact that I grew up in a sweet shop ( a candy shop for you Americans) may explain why I was a fat kid.

Of course, once said pud was done, it had to be lit with flaming brandy, to the tune of "God rest ye merry gentlemen." Look closely to see the flame. The kitchen is actually in the dark while we're doing this, but you can't tell from the camera's flash. All very festive, except we needed a few more pudding eaters.

Aimee of course didn't partake. She thinks this is all very silly, hates cooked raisins in pretty much anything, and, to boot, can't understand the British use of the word "pudding," mostly because its traditional usage for savories as well as sweets has been lost to American idiom.

Most Americans who were not otherwise familiar with the concept would think "black" pudding, or Yorkshire pudding, were a dessert.

That's a whole realm of global cuisine that's been cut off to them, just by semantics. Poor old yanks.

For the record, Aimee hates black pudding even more than raisins in dessert. She thinks it "stinks."

Doesn't know what she's missing, is what I think. But at least she took the shufties without complaint.

The pud was good, but needed a tad more sugar next time. And that is definitely some very cheap brandy. We could have used some proper cognac. Not five star, but not gut-rot either.

Never mind. All is well on the farm and we have time and power for such frivolities. Lots of our neighbors don't.

That's what counts.

Happy Boxing Day!


  1. I'm glad to see that my old professor(s) are warm, safe, and survived the ice storm. My cynical heart is also gladdened by the reappearance of THE orange sweater! My worldview can continue as unchanged and eternal as THE orange sweater, even if my old professor is getting a bit "silver". P.S. Many of us Yanks have been desensitized to the mysterious Brit application of the term "pudding" thanks to the works of the late, great James "Herriot".
    Cheekily-as always,

  2. Hello Heather. Happy Christmas. Yes, I still do have not one but two orange sweaters, clones if you will. I try to wear them out, but it's not working for me. Maybe about the time they wear out, I'll have figured out the knitting machine and can make my own sweaters, with our own yarn, maybe in a better color. So far the only things I've made that actually fit are hats.


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