What's For Pud? That's Right, You Heard Me -- Pig's Bum!

Like many of us in the corner of the blogosphere occupied by the culinarily obssessed, I find that there's something about the combination of words and food that generally provokes a ravenous craving for the delicacy being described.  I'm not nearly as likely to desire a treat I've seen on television as I am to suddenly hunger for food elaborated in a restaurant review, a food blog, a menu...or a novel.  Maybe I'm more of a textual learner than a visual one, or maybe it's just that most of the food on TV is nasty, whereas a good writer can cause me actual hunger pangs with evocative prose about something delicious. 

When I was quite a bit younger, there was nothing quite like a good British children's novel for food descriptions.  P.L. Travers, Frances Hodgson Burnett, C.S. Lewis, E. Nesbit, Enid Blyton; all of them described not only meals and snacks, biscuits and ices, but also the relish with which their young characters devoured them.  The very names of the meals themselves made me hungry:  Elevenses!  Midday dinner!  Most glorious of all, Tea! Teas served in gardens, with tiny sandwiches and cakes and strawberries and clotted cream! It seemed as if English people ate lots and lots over the course of a day, which (as a child whose plumpness was early steered toward limited portions and spa cuisine) endeared me strongly to the culture.  The sounds of savory dishes too were seductive: steak and mushroom pie, bubble-and-squeak, toad-in-a-hole, bangers and mash -- even if it were only the names without any description, my hunger was aroused.  I've yet to try many of these things other than afternoon tea.  My limited eating excursions in England have been spent on glorious dinners in Indian restaurants much better than anything New York can offer, and of course full teas, whether in teashops or at the Savoy. 

But it was the sweets, ah the puds, that caused me both envy and curiousity.  What on earth was treacle sponge, I wondered -- or treacle toffee?  What, indeed, was treacle?  What sort of a place was it where people ate desserts with names like Queen of Puddings or Bakewell Tart or Sticky Toffee Pudding?  How did one steam a pudding? What was gooseberry fool? I read about Shrewsbury biscuits and Bath buns, Maids of Honor and Banbury cakes,  jam roly-poly, seed-cake, parkin and Victoria sponge -- and I wanted to try them all, even rock cakes.  Almost better than the puddings themselves were the descriptions of them either being drenched in thick cream or slathered with custard.  I could only dream. 

For today's holiday celebrating St. George, Slayer of Dragons, the adored and adorable Sam of Becks & Posh, and the savvy and eloquent Monkey Gland of Jamfaced dreamed up a glorious event celebrating English puddings.  Here, indeed was my chance to try a pudding, a true English pudding -- and what could be more representative than a steamed pudding, something I had never ever tried?  But what exactly to make, what to try with limited resources and time? 

Fortunately, someone with much more experience in the field of traditional puddings came to my rescue.  My chum Bakerina suggested that I make Pig's Bum, which moniker was given this simple butter-vanilla steamed sponge, tinted a faint pink with the addition of lightly cooked rhubarb, by none other than the lovely Nigella Lawson.  Bakerina had other fish to fry -- or rather other puddings to steam, since she was off on her own Sussex Pond Pudding adventure.    Should you be interested in trying a Pig's Bum yourself, the recipe can be found in Ms. Lawson's first cookbook, How To Eat. 

I blithely fashioned a makeshift pudding basin and a steamer, and set about making this wonder. Fortunately I first made real, homemade custard, speckled with plenty of vanilla bean.  Knowing how I feel about flans, custards and creams of all kinds, I had a hunch that this might be my favorite part of the dessert, and I was not wrong.  But I honestly don't think the recipe is at fault.  You see, I was using early-season rhubarb, which is not anywhere near its peak either in terms of color or flavor.  It just didn't give the pudding enough zip.  But lashing it with plenty of custard and a garnish of more cooked rhubarb helped considerably.  G liked it well enough, and utilized the occasion to make a number of jokes about the pudding's name which shall not be repeated here. 

In any case, I, like St. George, have slain a dragon by making my very first steamed pudding.  I look forward to others.  Golden Syrup Sponge, anyone?  Why, the very words have me halfway there...

Tagged with What's For Pud? and St George's Day

Comments

[lindy]

Also brought up on English children's books, I am very sorry to have been too busy with less interesting matters this weekend to make a pud for this event.

I must say, your pig's bum is magnificent. I am lost in admiration of the porcine derriere, the bacon buttock, the hog's buns...stop me.
Did you like it?

[Ivonne]

Julie,

What a wonderful post! I can almost picture all the lovely passages in the authors' books you've referred to.

I'd never heard of Pig's Bum and I never thought I'd actually say something like this ... but I think I'd like to try some.

Lovely!

[Tania]

Lovely post! How right you are about all those cozy meals in British children's lit! Thanks for the trip down memory lane.

I love rhubarb and am sorry to read that the Pig's Bum was less than thrilling. Your custard does look wonderful, though!

[tejal]

I used to be so jealous of the Famous Five's snacks--I love that you gave their author a mention!

[Kimberly]

Were it possible for me both to go back in time and to send produce across the Internets, I would return to Friday afternoon at Pike Place Market, and email you some of the brilliantly red rhubarb that I found there. :-)

Still and all, your Pig's Bum has a lovely, if somewhat mono-cheeked, shape, and your custard is truly a thing of beauty.

[Julie]

Hey Lindy -- thanks for your poetry on the subject of "my" Pig's Bum -- so evocative! You make me blush. Unfortunately, the result was less than thrilling. Either I just don't like steamed puddings, or the early-season rhubarb just wasn't tasty enough to flavor the "cheek" as it were...

Ivonne -- I can still salivate over those children's books. Give "the bum" a try when the rhubarb is a bit more assertive,later in the season, I think. That would be my recommendation.

Tania -- I'm almost persuaded to dig up some of those books and re-read the descriptions. The custard was absolutely fabulous, and I could (and will) eat it on its own, as well ;P

Tejal -- Enid Blyton was great at describing what her characters ate, wasn't she? One could figure out little foodies in the making by the books they read, probably.

Kimberley, my dear -- I wish for that rhubarb, much as you wish you could e-send it to me! I'm going to be in the Seattle area at the end of June, so maybe I'll get to see the famous Pike's Place Market for myself. Maybe I should have made two cheeks -- um, I mean pudding basins of pud -- at least for the photo, tee hee...

[Joe C]

Pig's bum...pig's bum...It sounds eerily familiar. Was that what they served the night we had that near-death experience at the London dinner theatre?

[Bakerina]

Well, I think the pig's bum looks lovely, but I know what you mean about the rhubarb. My sense is that this recipe was designed for forced rhubarb, which our British pals can buy in the winter months, and which is a brilliant, brilliant red. Nevertheless and besides, your pudding is inspiring me to make one of my own, even if it means holding back some rhubarb from the Bakerina Kitchens consignment. ;)

Incidentally, would it be wrong of me to say in this space that I had a stone-cold blast at dinner last week?

[sam]

I thought I already left you a comment, but i must be mistaken, it said something about how if custard had looked like that when i was a kid, then I certainly would not have taken so long to get round to liking custard. Pig's Bum. How excellent a name for dessert is that!!!!

[Julie]

Oh, bro -- you're remembering the Players' Theatre, where I ordered the "coulibiac of salmon" and the waitress as she served said, "Who's havin' the fish pye?" The vegetables were grey, the potatoes were green, and everything was covered in thick, beige-gray sauce...and that was BEFORE the music-hall performance...

MMmmm...rhubarb at Bakerina Kitchens...that's going to require investigating. What are you brewing, m'dear? And I too had a blast last week!

Oh Sam, thanks for the custardy compliment! It was definitely the best component of the dessert. And honestly, I think I really did make it because of the name.

[Jane]

The dessert looks lovely.

[ilana]

Hi Julie! This is my first trip to your blog.. Nice job!
I am a fellow foodie from NYC and was intrigued by this post as my friend, Sarah, is cooking her way through How To Eat, and just did Pig's Bum for the second time as she loves it so much.
Keep up the good work. I think it's lovely you got to meet fellow food bloggers from around the world.. None-foodies just don't get it, right? LOL.

Ilana

p.s. oh, sarah's blog is www.sarah-discovers-how-to-eat.blogspot.com, if you're interested to see her impressions of Pig's Bum. cheers!

[Adele]

I am so glad someone agrees with me about British children's lit.

I'm writing a post on treacle toffee in honor of Guy Fawkes Day, and I tried Googling for a particular story I had in mind - one from the Sam Pig series. Google failed me on that front, but reading this post made up for it.

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