Pudding time

Winter is coming. But Christmas is coming too.

I don't make Christmas puddings every year, partly because steaming them is such a faff and partly because they keep well enough that it makes sense to make this year's and next year's at the same time. I've fallen into the pattern of making three puddings every other year, the spare one being eaten on some other suitable occasion such as Easter.

When I was younger, my grandmother was the Christmas pudding maker for the extended family. For many years, she made them in near-industrial quantities, stirring the mixture in a brightly-coloured plastic washing-up bowl because no mixing bowl was large enough. Presumably the steaming was somehow accomplished in shifts; I'm not certain, but she may have borrowed my mum's pressure cooker to use alongside her own.

In later years, Nanna promoted herself to a supervisory role, delegating the heavy work to others. ('You know, Doris, I don't think I'll bother next year. It's getting too much for me.') Auntie Doris was her sister-in-law's sister, who happened to be visiting on one occasion. I recall effortfully stirring the contents of the nearly-full washing-up bowl while my parents added the last few ingredients. Nanna and Auntie Doris emerged from the other room in time for a token stir each and to make the all-important wishes.

In Nanna's final years, I took over as official pudding chef, though she was always given the privilege of the first taste to check that it was up her standards. In fairness, her rose-tinted taste-buds always liked anything that I had made. ('My grandsons are good cooks but granddaughters couldn't boil an egg between them.' Granddaughters: 'Why would we want to boil one egg and share it between us?')

I cannot divulge full details of The Secret Recipe - and the two holograph manuscripts in my custody actually vary in a few points of detail - but the ingredients are pretty conventional: shredded suet (I use beef suet), mixed dried fruit, dark brown sugar, plain flour (ideally wholemeal, but I didn't have that this time), breadcrumbs, ground almonds (I don't use any other nuts), three eggs, an orange, a lemon, an apple, a carrot, ground spices, salt, brandy and a little milk if the mixture is stiff.

I took some process photos.

I prepared all the fruit the night before, mixing it with the grated carrot, brandy and sugar and leaving it to soak overnight.

Part-way through. I think I've added the eggs, suet and almonds at this stage but not the rest. Making puddings at this scale means I can use a proper mixing bowl instead of improvising.

Two plastic pudding basins filled. These have lids and are much easier to handle than traditional basins and cloths.

I thought I had three lidded basins but I only had two, so resorted to a ceramic basin and clother covering for the third pudding.

Steam for six hours.

Success? The proof will be in the eating.

I washed the lids and then put them back, with a neatish circle of greaseproof paper underneath.

I made a wish when stirring, of course. Obviously, I can't tell you what I wished for, otherwise it won't come true. Apparently.

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