Inspired by my sister and the river cottage ‘Fruit’ book in
almost equal measure (but sister’s summer pudding was quite remarkable so she’s
just got the edge on inspiration). Along with Bread and Butter pudding (first
tried when I was about 5 and then shunned for the next 20 years until an
eventual rediscovery lead to an ongoing love affair) Summer Pudding was one of
the huge disappointments of child hood. How could something that looked so invitingly
pink and gorgeous turn out to be bread (bread mark you and not cake – which is
just wrong when you’re 5) and fruit, tart fruit. It took me a long time to get
over that first experience, but now, some 30 years later I’m ready to move on.
In my mind (and I’m
sharing this thought at the risk of sounding odd) Summer Pudding is a decidedly
upper class sort of dessert. I was subjected to it in a distinctly county
setting, and if you don’t happen to work somewhere that gives you cheap access
to fruit (me) or have a lovely big garden awash with redcurrants and raspberries
(other lucky people) the ingredients aren’t always cheap. Also although I’ve come to love things with a
tart fruity edge there’s something of the pleasure/pain principle about summer
pudding that puts me in mind of game (I’ve not yet learnt to like it ‘high’ and
am not terribly keen to cultivate the taste) and living in cold draughty houses
with inadequate supplies of hot water, and scratchy woollen blankets on the
beds (also leaky hot water bottles). I’ve known rich people and posh people,
but sadly for the latter the two have never really coincided.
The final thing about Summer Pudding is that you have to
think ahead to make it – it wants to hang around in the fridge for 24 hours and
I rarely plan like that, make in the morning eat in the evening is fine, but a
day or two ahead; I really had to think about it. On the plus side the fruit
compote is brilliant, takes minutes to throw together and would be great with
any number of things.
Anyway gather together about 850g of mixed red and black fruit (blackberries, raspberries, redcurrants, blackcurrants,
maybe a blueberry or a strawberry ...) 200g of caster sugar, and enough white
bread with the crusts chopped off to line a pudding bowl (that will hold
roughly 850ml of liquid) leaving no gaps. Line the bowl with clingfilm – using enough
to have plenty hanging over the sides of the bowl to cover the base, and line
with the bread. No gaps. Gently heat the fruit and sugar until the sugar
dissolves and the juices start to run, but not until it’s all one mushy mess. Drain
off a cup of the juice to serve with the pudding, and put the rest of the fruit
in the bowl. Cover up with clingfilm and a plate and stick it in the fridge
with a heavy weight on top to keep everything in place. The next day it’ll be
ready and delicious. Some people use cassis which is something I need to
investigate.
I made this last week using challah (egg bread) for the bread and it was yummy. No booze in it but we did top with whipped cream.
ReplyDeleteI do have issue with soggy bread... I think I still have the issue that you had when you were 5, lol. But as I'm a dessert fiend, I give all desserts a second chance.
ReplyDeleteIn the same way that bread-and-butter pudding becomes sublime when made with croissants, or brioche (my favourite), why not try a brioche loaf sliced up for the bread 'frame'?
ReplyDeleteanispteras, I think for absolute perfection the bread does need messing with, I like ctussauds suggestion about Brioche.
ReplyDeletechasing bawa, for two days the bread was ok, but by the last slice it had turned into something a bit soggy and unappealing, the fruit bit was still great. I didn't use the best bread and will be looking for something better next time.
Sublime!
ReplyDeleteOh that looks delicious. Reminds me that I haven't made a summer pudding this year yet.
ReplyDelete