Proud me. |
This post brought to you by my parents’ trip to Oxford, and by Lindsay’s failure to ever hear about Pudding Club in all the years she lived in Oxford.
My parents came to spend a couple of weeks with me last month, and stayed in an apartment, rather than a hotel, near where I live. Not only did this afford them enough room to sprawl out for the duration of their stay, but they also had enough room to entertain. Just after they arrived, we had a dinner party for my housemates, where my Mom cooked a couple of my childhood favourites: sweet and sour sausage, and pink lady for dessert. I think the sausage dish (basically, a bowl of sausage smothered in ketchup and curry sauce, and served over rice) might have been a touch too sweet for the delicate English palates of my housemates, but the pink lady (a proper graham cracker crust topped with a mixture of gelatin, rasperries and cream) hit exactly the right note. Given that this was the first time I’ve eaten either of these dishes in approximately a hundred years, I felt like I was in heaven.
Not only was my parents’ visit a chance to finally spend time with them after a year of being apart, and to enjoy the food they were able tosmuggle carry into the UK, but it was also a chance to revisit my family’s food history. I grew up on a grain farm, which did not translate into a taste for gourmet food. What it did was lend itself to long hours of physical labour, and the development of a huge appetite for hearty stick-to-your-ribs food and big, stodgy desserts. When I heard about Pudding Club, I knew this was something I would have to experience with my folks.
Pudding club is an evening of entertainment smothered in custard and toffee sauce. We spent the afternoon working up an appetite while adventuring in the Cotswolds. When we finally arrived at the Four Corners House in Mickleton, it was already dark and we were starving. We were greeted by a gregarious man wearing a pudding-print tie, and offering us glasses of elderberry fizz. We were then treated to a speech about the history of steamed puddings and their social and cultural significance to the British way of life. The menu was then described: we were to be served our choice of starter: braised beef, pasta, or crab cakes, followed by the glorious main event, the Parade of the Seven Puddings. Each of the puddings was then named and briefly described:
My parents came to spend a couple of weeks with me last month, and stayed in an apartment, rather than a hotel, near where I live. Not only did this afford them enough room to sprawl out for the duration of their stay, but they also had enough room to entertain. Just after they arrived, we had a dinner party for my housemates, where my Mom cooked a couple of my childhood favourites: sweet and sour sausage, and pink lady for dessert. I think the sausage dish (basically, a bowl of sausage smothered in ketchup and curry sauce, and served over rice) might have been a touch too sweet for the delicate English palates of my housemates, but the pink lady (a proper graham cracker crust topped with a mixture of gelatin, rasperries and cream) hit exactly the right note. Given that this was the first time I’ve eaten either of these dishes in approximately a hundred years, I felt like I was in heaven.
Not only was my parents’ visit a chance to finally spend time with them after a year of being apart, and to enjoy the food they were able to
Pudding club is an evening of entertainment smothered in custard and toffee sauce. We spent the afternoon working up an appetite while adventuring in the Cotswolds. When we finally arrived at the Four Corners House in Mickleton, it was already dark and we were starving. We were greeted by a gregarious man wearing a pudding-print tie, and offering us glasses of elderberry fizz. We were then treated to a speech about the history of steamed puddings and their social and cultural significance to the British way of life. The menu was then described: we were to be served our choice of starter: braised beef, pasta, or crab cakes, followed by the glorious main event, the Parade of the Seven Puddings. Each of the puddings was then named and briefly described:
I posed for this before we sat down. |
The Pudding List:
Sticky Toffee and Date Pudding
Very Chocolate Pudding
Beef and two veg. Where's my pudding?!? |
All of the pudding. All in one place. |
Every time our table number was called, Dad and I raced to be first in line. I let him win most of the time, because I know how to respect my elders. Several of the other diners dropped off after about 4 or 5 servings of pudding, but we persevered until we’d tasted each of the seven puddings. Then we went back for one more helping of our respective favourites.
Shortly after the certificates were distributed, we waddled out to the car. Fat and happy. And haggard. That was a lot of spoon lifting for just one night, and more sugar than I ever thought I could consume at one sitting.
Apparently, they change up their pudding menu for the summer. Who’s up for a gluttony road-trip in June?
Eight servings of pudding... hoofta! Me and my Dad with our sinning puddings. Passionfruit Charlotte was my surprise favourite, while Dad liked the Syrup Sponge Pudding. |
Shortly after the certificates were distributed, we waddled out to the car. Fat and happy. And haggard. That was a lot of spoon lifting for just one night, and more sugar than I ever thought I could consume at one sitting.
Apparently, they change up their pudding menu for the summer. Who’s up for a gluttony road-trip in June?