Trifle
This, along with summer pudding and bread and butter pudding (don't worry: these will follow), is my favourite pudding.
First, I cannot be fussed with exotic variations of trifle so here is what invariably happens in our family. It's big, bold, there should be a lot of it. I do like to make my own custard, but I'd bury my face in something made with Birds' custard powder, too.
6 or 7 sponge fingers --or alternatively, break up a sponge cake so that it sits in a generous mound in the bottom of a glass bowl about 1.5 litres in capacity.
400g raspberries
About three tbsps sherry
Raspberry jam
30g flaked almonds
150ml double cream for whipping
300ml custard. If you want to make your own, follow the recipe below. It's not hard and will, I promise, make you happy. The custard should be cold when you use it.
Right, take the sponge cakes, sponge fingers or whatever you are using and spread them with a little jam. I tend to split them in two and make a kind of jam sandwich out of each, replacing the other half when I'm done with the jam. Now, put them in a pretty bowl and drizzle the sherry over them. Leave them to soak. You could also add some finely grated lemon rind, if you like -- but I rarely bother with this touch. Now cover the sponges with the fruit, cover the fruit with the custard, smooth its top down gently and add the cream, which you will have whipped until it sits in soft peaks. Scatter over the almonds and it's ready, after a little chill in the fridge.
You will notice that there is no jelly in this custard. I prefer it not to be there. To make your own custard, here's what you do (in the amount needed for this recipe plus a bit of spoon licking).
Take 300ml milk. Full fat is best here. If you are that worried, why are you making trifle?
30g caster sugar
The yolks of three large eggs
The key word here is gently. Warm up the milk and then mix the eggs and sugar together then add this mixture to the milk. You should continue to warm it, stirring constantly. That way, the custard will be smooth. Use a wooden spoon and make sure that your custard does not boil. It should begin to thicken and look sleek and creamy and coat your wooden spoon: then, it's done. Leave it to cool and stir it regularly to avoid it forming a skin. You can make the custard richer by adding a tablespoon or two of cream. Either way, this recipe should make quite a thick custard, just right for your trifle.
We had this trifle, with eight of my family at table, as the pudding for a dinner of a beef casserole and boiled potatoes. A bit of a winter dinner, but with summer raspberries. Perfect.
Summer pudding. To me, summer pudding was a way to use up the heavy fruit crop of my father's garden. Invariably, we used blackcurrants and raspberries. If there were redcurrants, then in they went, too. Some people use sponge cake for this; I always use white bread, a day or two old. Let's assume we are using raspberries and blackcurrants. The colour is beautiful.
Take 480g raspberries and 120g blackcurrants. You need to stew these gently for five minutes or so with about 120 g caster sugar, but taste and taste again. The amount of sugar you need, obviously, depends on how sweet your tooth is and which fruit you are using. You do not need to add water. Stir gently. Then put the fruit to one side to cool.
Into a round deep dish or good sized basin, goes the bread. For old time's sake, I use an ancient white china basin, used since childhood and, amazingly, never broken-- despite my cack-handed tendencies in the kitchen.
The bread you use needs to be white, sliced, about a day old and have had its crusts removed. Make sure it is not too thin, otherwise your pudding will collapse. You need to make sure that the dish is well lined, sides and bottom, with the bread pressed in gently, with overlapping edges. Then, just pour in the fruit --if it there is a great deal of juice, reserve some-- and cover it with another slice or two of the bread. Put a plate on top of your pudding. It should be small enough to fit snugly inside the dish. Place a weight on top, for which I would probably use a couple of tins of baked beans. Leave your pudding overnight in a the fridge and then turn it out gently the next day. Serve with cream and, if you like, any reserved juices from yesterday. Summer pudding is, I think, rather ruined if it is not served very cold -- which is why I would never put custard with it. Some good vanilla ice cream might be nice, though.
Top tip: make sure that the plate onto which you turn your pudding is big enough to leave a large rim beyond the edge of the pudding --preferably one with an edge which slopes up. That way the juice will not end up on the floor. And if it does collapse, trim it up with some double cream and none-one may notice.
Bread and Butter pudding. Sweetly nostalgic for me. I did recently have seconds of a chocolate version -- but on with the original. It is very straightforward to make.
Take 6 thinnish slices of white bread -- I leave the crusts on because they will catch in the heat of the oven giving you crisp edges against the doughy and soothing quality of the rest. My mother always buttered them, therefore so do I. Just a thin spread of butter, though. Cut each piece into two triangles. If you want it to be a bit daintier make that four.
You need about 90g currants. You could also use sultanas or raisins or a mixture of any of these.
Have to hand
3 large free range eggs
30g demerara sugar
About 750ml milk (I use semi skimmed)
Into a large oven dish -- I usually make this is an oblong earthenware oven dish which is, I think, 1.2 litres in capacity-- goes the bread, triangles overlapping. Sprinkle over the dried fruit. Then beat the eggs just a little with the milk and the sugar and pour this evenly over the bread. My mother would have left this to settle for twenty minutes, so that the milk saturates the bread. Then she would put it in a medium oven (4/180) for approximately 45 minutes. By this time, you should have a set custard and some little crisp peaks pf bread rising above it. You can encourage this further by sprinkling the pudding with just a little more sugar after about 30 minutes. You may find that you need to give this recipe an hour.
I don't think you need anything with this. A sprinkle of cinnamon or some grated nutmeg would be good, though. And, as with the potato earlier (see 'What to eat for a broken heart'), this is consoling when all is not well.
A Kitchen Diary of sorts with rather a lot of chit chat and some exceptionally useful recipes. Photos and artwork by Anna Vaught (me), Giles Turnbull and the generous people at Flickr who make their work available through creative commons. They are thanked individually throughout the blog.
Sunday, 19 July 2009
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