No, that’s not just a blackmail line used by desperate men in bars. That’s a line from a Christmas carol.
This year we set out to make figgy pudding. I like to try to do things as traditionally as possible, and when embarking upon this quest, the first thing I noticed was that authentic figgy pudding calls for suet. Yuck. So okay, the recipe wasn’t going to be that authentic. The second thing I learned was that figgy pudding should be steamed.
Wow. Steamed. Okay, never did that before — not with an English pudding.
Fortunately, I have a very large canning vessel ripe for the job.
Naturally, it was wintering in the garage, covered in dust. But that’s what kids are for — dusting canning vessels. So I put Laurel to work while I gathered the ingredients:
That one on the right is rum steeped in vanilla beans, by the way.
We cut and rehydrated figs and raisins, and Greg set them aflame — but I was too concerned about the large fireball he created to get a photo. Sorry. The aftermath will have to suffice:
We all stirred the pudding together and made a wish, as is customary, then scraped the batter into a bundt pan and steamed it for TWO HOURS.
And it looked like this:
And you know — it wasn’t bad. If you like spice cake and bread pudding, figgy pudding is very similar.
Now you got some, so you have to go.