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At the end of 2024, I gave you my recipe for Bakewell pudding. The plan was to follow with my recipe for Bakewell tart. Alas, life, Christmas and then a holiday to New Zealand got in the way.
But I always get around to things eventually and I give it to you today!
The Bakewell tart, despite it being dearly loved by Brits, was originally made as a cheap, dumbed-down version of the rich Derbyshire pudding: the puff pastry swapped for shortcrust, and the buttery almond filling swapped for an almond-flavoured sponge cake.
I write about the histories of the Bakewell pudding and tart in Knead to Know: A History of Baking, so pick up a copy if you want to know more.
I have been using this recipe for years now and it’s a real crowd-pleaser. When the restaurant was open, I served this tart warm with a lemon-flavoured cream and received a big bear hug from a diner: there could have been no better seal of approval in my book! The secret to its success is that I make a frangipane rather than a sponge cake filling, bound together with just a tablespoon of flour.
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Makes 1 x 21 cm/8 inch tart
For the sweet shortcrust pastry:
200 g plain flour
100 g salted butter, diced (or half-and-half butter and lard)
50 g caster or icing sugar
1 egg, well beaten
Cold water (see recipe)
For the filling:
100 g salted butter, softened
100 g caster sugar
2 eggs
100g ground almonds
30 g self-raising flour
¼ tsp almond extract
3 or 4 tbs raspberry jam
30 g slivered almonds
First, make the pastry: Place the flour and fat(s) in a mixing bowl and rub the fat in until the mixture resembles fresh breadcrumbs. You can do this by hand using fingertips or with the flat beater of a stand mixer on a slow speed. Make a well in the centre and add most of the egg. If using a stand mixer, slowly mix it in, pouring more egg into any dry patches. If doing by hand, use a butter knife to mix (this prevents overworking of the dough). You should have a cohesive dough that can be brought together with your hand – if it does seem dry, add a tablespoon of cold water.
Knead briefly, cover and allow to rest in the fridge for 20 to 30 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat your oven to 180°C and place a baking tray on the centre shelf
On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the pastry to the thickness of a pound coin, and use it to line an 8”/20 cm loose-bottomed tart tin or ring.[1] Prick the base with a fork and place it back in the fridge to firm up.
Now make the filling: using a hand beater or stand mixer, beat together the soft butter, caster sugar, eggs, almonds, flour and extract until smooth.
Take the pastry out of the fridge and spread jam over the bottom leaving a centimetre gap all around the inside edge. Spoon or pipe the mixture first around the edges and then the centre (this stops the jam from rising up the sides of the pastry lining), levelling off with a spatula.
Sprinkle with the slivered almonds and slide the tart onto the hot baking sheet and bake for 40 minutes, turning the heat down to 160°C if the top gets too brown. Cool on a rack, and remove from the tin when just warm.
[1] You will find that there is excess pastry – make some nice jam tarts or turnovers.
I was at the Foyles Winter Evening on the 28th of November promoting The Philosophy of Puddings. It was at their flagship Charing Cross Road store, adjacent to Soho, and it was all very exciting. To draw folk in, I brought two puddings from opposite ends of the pudding spectrum: a nice, but very sweet, Bakewell pudding and a very savoury black pudding. I’m sure you can guess which was the most popular (by the way, tune into this podcast episode to hear about my gaff involving Rick Astley and the black pudding).
I promised I would post the recipe for a Bakewell pudding because it went down so well at the event. A Bakewell pudding is different from a Bakewell tart: the pudding is made up of a puff pastry case, a layer of raspberry jam, and then a sweet mixture of melted butter, eggs, sugar, and ground almonds. It’s very sweet and seems to be derived from a tribe of puddings called transparent puddings.[1]
The recipe for Bakewell pudding is a closely-guarded secret held by the several bakeries in Bakewell who reckon they have the original recipe. I won’t go into the history of the pudding here, it can all be found in the Philosophy of Puddings and Knead to Know.[2] However, Sheila Hutchins provides a recipe in her excellent 1967 book English Recipes and Others which she obtained from ‘Mr Oulsnam, the cook at the Rutland Arms in Bakewell where the pudding was said to be invented’.[3] There are recipes too in Jane Grigson’s English Food (1992) and Regula Ysewijn’s Pride and Pudding (2015). The first recipe appears in Eliza Acton’s Modern Cookery for Private Families (1845), and it doesn’t have a crust, and is made with egg yolks, not whole eggs.[4]
All of the recipes vary slightly, but I have gone with something that resembles the modern version, though my filling has a higher proportion of ground almonds than the Rutland Arms recipe (but not too much because it begins to veer on Bakewell tart territory. I feel I have the balance just right, but you can be the judge of that.
By the way, the finished pudding isn’t a particularly beautiful-looking thing, it won’t come out of the oven looking like French patisserie, it’s wonky and slightly scruffy but very delicious; as a pudding should be.
Apologies for the lack of a photo of the interior! I was stressed on the night and forgot to take one, but here I am with the pudding in Foyles.
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My recipe makes 1 x 23 cm/9 inch (approx.) pudding in a round tin with sloping sides. The great thing about puddings is that they are very forgiving, so if your tin has straight sides or fluted edges, or not exactly the right dimensions, don’t worry, it will be fine.
The pastry is not blind-baked first. To avoid the dreaded soggy bottom put a baking tray in the oven so it can get nice and hot. When the pudding is ready to bake, sit it on the very hot tray which will help crisp it up before it starts to turn soggy.
1 batch of Quick and Easy Puff Pastry
120 g butter
120 g caster sugar
80 g ground almonds
2 eggs
A few drops of almond essence
2 to 3 dessertspoons of raspberry jam
Preheat your oven to 220°C and place a baking tray on the centre shelf.
Begin by rolling out the pastry to the thickness of a pound coin (3 mm approximately). Allow to rest for a couple of minutes before lining the tin with the pastry. Make sure the pastry is tucked into the edges properly and that there are no air bubbles. Trim with a knife or rolling pin (whichever is most efficient – depends upon your tin!) and prick the pastry all over with a fork so that it doesn’t puff up too much in the oven.
Place the lined tin in the fridge so the butter can harden up. Meanwhile, make the filling: slowly melt the butter in a saucepan, as you wait, mix the sugar and ground almonds in a mixing bowl, then the eggs and almond essence. When the butter is just melted beat it into the mixture.
Take the lined tin out of the fridge and spread with the jam, leaving a gap all around the inside edge.
Spoon or pour the mixture, first around the inside edge and then the centre, smoothing over any gaps.
Place in the oven on the now very hot baking tray for 25 to 35 minutes, turning the temperature down to 180°C when the top reaches a nice, deep golden brown (it was around the 20-minute mark for me).
When the centre is set, remove it from the oven and allow it to cool on a wire rack.
[1] Buttery, N. The Philosophy of Puddings. (British Library Publishing, 2024).
[2] Being a baked pud, Bakewell pudding gets mentioned in both The Philosophy of Puddings and Knead to Know: a History of Baking (though different aspects are discussed).
[3] Hutchins, S. English Recipes, and Others from Scotland, Wales and Ireland as They Appeared in Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Cookery Books and Now Devised for Modern Use. (Cookery Book Club, 1967).
[4] Acton, E. Modern Cookery For Private Families. (Quadrille, 1845); Grigson, J. English Food. 3rd edition (Penguin, 1992); Ysewijn, R. Pride and Pudding: The History of British Puddings Savoury and Sweet. (Murdoch Books, 2015).
Hello there folks. A very quick post just to let you all know that I am giving two free talks this December.
The first is taking place at Manchester Central Library at 6pm on 5 December and is entitled The History of Pies & Puddings. Because it’s December I shall be looking at some festive examples but also a few other favourites. There will also be some of the library’s antiquarian cookery books to view as part of it. Book your spot here.
The second is a free Zoom talk on 17 December at 7pm (GMT) called The Philosophy of Puddings where I will look at the history of this very British food in the kitchen and in our culture. Will any of your favourites be mentioned? Book your spot here.
There are new events cropping up all of the time so make sure that you check the Upcoming Events tab regularly.
Looking forward to seeing some of you there!
If you like the blogs and podcast I produce and would to start a £3 monthly subscription, or would like to treat me to virtual coffee or pint: follow this link for more information. Thank you.
I’m very excited to announce that my next book The Philosophy of Puddings with be published on 24 October 2024, published by the British Library – part of their excellent The Philosophy of… series.
Preorder The Philosophy of Puddings from your favourite bookseller, or from the British Library bookshop.
The word ‘pudding’ is a confusing one if you are not from the British Isles because so many things can be a pudding: steamed sponge, Christmas pud, sticky toffee pudding, plus black and white pudding AND haggis. Add to this the fact that pudding can also be a byword for any dessert. Convoluted craziness.
I have tried to tackle the tricky etymology of the word before – puddings change and morph into so many different things across time that it’s pretty mind-boggling, and I’m so glad to have the opportunity to really study it in depth: a dream come true really. As far as I know there isn’t a book that tracks the word right through history, focussing not just on trends and fashions but also why puddings are so important in British identity.
Here’s what the blurb says:
Just what is a pudding? We all have our favourites, whether it is a school-dinner jam roly-poly with custard, or a Yorkshire with onion gravy, a Burns’ Night haggis or the Christmas plum pudding. The humble pudding started out as a meat boiled in either animal intestine or in a cloth. With the advent of pudding bowls and moulds, the pudding assumed a myriad of identities. Neil Buttery traces the long history of pudding and its importance in British culture and language. He has tried and tested many recipes from across the centuries in his ‘Pud Club’ and shares his extensive knowledge and expertise.
The Philosophy of Puddings features stunning images and photographs from the Library’s collections.
I will present some of my research an online talk in December – the date is to be announced, so make sure you keep an eye out on social media or the ‘Upcoming Events’ page on the blog.
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When we think of the food we eat, we think of it in terms of fuel – this is especially the case with starchy food, those made from flour because they are broken down into sugars and then converted slowly into energy in a form the body can use (unless we eat too much of it, then it is turned into fat). However, workers in factories around the world are very aware of the amount of energy trapped in flour: working with large amounts of it can be a dangerous business. Factory explosions have occurred causing damage, injury and death.
The worst accident in the British Isles caused by flour happened on 9 July 1872 at the Tradeston Flour Mill in Glasgow, a century and a half ago. An explosion ripped through the mill seriously injuring 16 and killing 18, among them a mother of three with her three-month-old baby. What caused it? A report published in the journal Nature reported that the ‘origin [was] conclusively traced to the striking of fire by a pair of millstones caused by the stopping of the “feed” or supply of grain to them, and the consequent friction against each other, the result being the ignition of the mixture of air and fine flour dust surrounding the millstones.’[1] It might have been self-contained were it not for the cloud of flour, the explosion itself created. The mill was set up so that several mills were working together in a row, run by steam power, each explosion setting up another sending a cascade of flour bombs ripping through the building.[2] The most recent flour explosion in the UK occurred on 18 November 1981 in the Bird’s Custard factory in Banbury, Oxfordshire where a cloud of cornflour[3] exploded injuring nine.
It has been theorised that it was a flour explosion that exacerbated the Great Fire of London in 1666 when an oven exploded next to several sacks of flour. The (alleged) bakery on Pudding Lane was owned by King Charles II’s own baker, Thomas Farriner. The blaze would continue for five days, destroying 13,500 houses and many important buildings including St Paul’s Cathedral. It killed just six people.
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Notes
[1] Accidental Explosions. Nature 478–479 (1875).
[2] Dalgetty, L. (2022) ‘Remembering the Glasgow Flour Mill explosion that killed 18 people’, Glasgow Live, 10 July.
[3] Bird’s Custard isn’t thickened with egg, but with cornflour/starch and it is by far the main component, the others being colouring and a very fake vanilla flavouring. For more on custard click here.
As promised on the ‘School Meals Service with Heather Ellis’ episode of the podcast, I have written a recipe for a stone-cold school dinners classic for my monthly subscribers. I went for the pink-sponge and custard because quite a few people have mentioned this as a favourite on social media, so it was the obvious choice. Heather Ellis said on Twitter that there were several different colours of these sponges: I also remember brown (though I don’t think it was chocolatey, just coloured brown). Others remembered white, and I wondered if yellow was perhaps a colour? Let me know your thoughts/memories.
Listen to the podcast episode here:
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Filed under baking, Britain, cake, Desserts, food, General, history, Recipes, Twentieth Century, Uncategorized
This post complements the episode of The British Food History Podcast called ‘The School Meals Service with Heather Ellis’:
Speaking with Heather Ellis on the podcast about the School Meals Service and school dinners really fired off some food memories, good and bad. If it has in you too, please let the School Meals Project know about them – and let me know about them too – there’s a postbag episode of the podcast coming in just two or three weeks’ time. Three stuck in my mind: sago or tapioca pudding, pink sponge and custard, and Spam fritters. Of those, my favourite is sago/tapioca pudding – it genuinely is one I cook at home regularly. I know it was called frogspawn by children across the country, but if made well, it is delicious. Honest.
For anyone unfamiliar with it, it is one of a tribe of puddings known as milk puddings which are essentially a starchy ingredient cooked in milk and sweetened with sugar, but in my opinion, they need to also contain cream and flavourings such as bay leaves, vanilla or lemon rind. The best-known of these is rice pudding, but there are also semolina, macaroni and arrowroot puddings. They became popular in schools because they were an excellent way of providing children with their calcium. Sago and tapioca come in the form of small balls or pearls, which turn translucent when cooked in liquid – tapioca pearls are used to make the ‘bubbles’ in bubble tea.
Sago and tapioca can be used interchangeably in recipes and taste the same, but there is a difference between the two; sago comes from the sago palm and tapioca from the cassava plant. The former is found in India and some parts of East Africa, and the latter in the Americas. The starch is extracted from the plants’ pithy centres by grating and squeezing. It is then suspended in a little water to make a paste, which is then passed through a colander to form little pellets that are then dried.[1]
Both are very much associated with Empire, and recipes using sago begin to appear in 18th-century cookery books. In Sarah Harrison’s The House-keeper’s Pocket-book sago is simmered in water and flavoured with sugar, cinnamon and lemon.[2] Elizabeth Raffald has a complex, red-coloured sago pudding containing red wine, sugar, bone marrow and egg yolks. She does have a simpler version closer to what we would recognise today: sago simmered in milk and cream, and flavoured with sack, sugar, eggs and nutmeg.[3] Through the 18th and 19th centuries, the typical way to prepare the pudding would be to cook it on the hob and then bake it in pastry. Mrs Beeton uses sago in two more recipes: a sweet sago sauce for desserts and a sago soup.[4]
If you are unsure about making sago or tapioca pudding (or returning to it after eating the runny school kind of years past), the great food historian Alan Davidson provides some words of encouragement: ‘[I]t is sometimes despised by the ignorant, that is to say, persons who have no knowledge of how good they are when properly made.’ He casts down a caveat, however: ‘[The] texture delights a few cognoscenti in Britain but is repellent to the majority and has no doubt contributed to the virtual disappearance of the pudding from British tables.’[5] And I say that it is a crying shame. It is rarely included in cookery books anymore, not even those specialising in puddings. Justin Gellatly is a fan though, and there are a couple of recipes in Helen Thomas’s excellent Pudding Book, but that’s about it.[6]
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The typical way to cook the pudding these days is to either bake it I the oven or cook it on the hob, and I provide methods for both, though I prefer the latter. It is quick to make and, despite what other recipes say, requires no soaking – just a careful swish in some cold water.
I’ve left the amount of sugar to you. If you intend to eat the pudding with sweet jam, go for around 90 grams, if you are eating it on its own, or with tart fruit like rhubarb or gooseberry, perhaps use 120 grams of sugar.
Serves 6 to 8 people, depending upon greediness. If more appropriate, half the amounts.
Around 30 g butter (if baking)
120 g sago or tapioca pearls
90–120 g caster sugar
1 litre full-fat milk
150 ml double cream
Flavourings: 3 or 4 strips of pared lemon rind, a lightly-crushed fresh bay leaf, a few drops of vanilla extract (or replace caster sugar with vanilla sugar), almond extract, cocoa, etc.
Oven method:
Preheat the oven to 160°C. In a baking dish of 1¼ litre capacity dot the bottom with small knobs of butter. Place the sago pearls in a jug and pour over plenty of cold water to release any starch. Pour through a sieve and then scatter the sago over the base of the dish with the sugar, milk, cream and flavourings. If using cocoa powder, whisk it into the milk before pouring into the dish. Place in the oven and bake for 60-90 minutes, stirring every now and again to disperse lumps. When the time is up, and you want a browner top, you could place it under a hot grill for a few minutes. Leave the pudding to stand for 10 minutes before serving.
Hob method:
Wash the sago pearls as described above and place them in a saucepan with the remainder of the ingredients, bar the butter. Bring slowly to a simmer, stirring gently. Leave to simmer for around 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. After the 15-minute mark, keep a closer eye on it: cook a further 10 to 15 minutes, but stir more frequently, scraping any stuck bits from the base. Sago pearls stick and catch easily!
Stop cooking when the pearls are soft and gelatinous. Let the pudding stand for 10 minutes before serving. If it seems a little on the thick side, stir a little more milk through it.
References
[1] Beeton, I. (1861). The Book of Household Management. Lightning Source; Davidson, A. (1999). The Oxford Companion to Food. Oxford University Press.
[2] Harrison, S. (1751). The House-keeper’s Pocket-book And Compleat Family Cook (5th ed.). R. Ware.
[3] Raffald, E. (1769). The Experienced English Housekeeper (First Edit). J. Harrop.
[4] Beeton (1861)
[5] Davidson (1999)
[6] Gellatly, J. (2016). Bread, Cake, Doughnut, Pudding: Sweet and Savoury Recipes from Britain’s Best Baker. Penguin Books Limited; Thomas, H. (1980). The Pudding Book. Hutchinson & Co.
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British Food: A History 