Summer is a wonderful time for unctuous puddings. Sweet ones, sharp ones, gooey ones and normally in some shade of pink. I wish I had the willpower to buy millions of summer berries and freeze them so I can knock up a pudding anytime I fancy, but I can barely resist them enough for them to make it to the saucepan. How can you go wrong with inky blackcurrants and vibrant gooseberries? Over the weekend I had occasion to make luscious puddings with
There are some things that are tasty on their own but become even more so when transformed into a soft, squidgy, sumptuous (and very traditional) bread and butter pudding. This wonderful celebration of stale bread is one of my favourite puddings. It is exactly what you want from a pudding; sweet, light but also filling, warm and most importantly delicious. I think to describe it as stodgy is highly unfair.
You will need (for four):
The quince used to be a hidden fruit. It seems it was embarrassed of its furry skin, ever varying sizes and odd looks. I had heard rumours of it returning to its former glory and I kept my eyes peeled and nostrils ready for a sight or a whiff of this mysterious fruit.
I found it. If you have not ever been lucky enough to encounter the quince then scrap any plans this weekend and go and hunt some down. It looks like a pear, is tough like a pumpkin,