Skip to main content

30 Days of Christmas: Bread and Butter Pudding


Many, many years ago, I set to make bread and butter pudding for New Year's Eve dessert. I was pretty new to baking, had never tasted a bread and butter pudding, never made a custard before and was working off a dubious recipe. Needless to say, that new year rang in solely on the strength of the savouries and no pudding came to pass. Since then, I've eaten this comforting pudding a few times. I've liked a couple of versions, found most too eggy and never tried making it myself ever again.

But I tried it again today and am proud to say it's perfect. Soft and creamy, yet crunchy in parts and not even eggy. This time, I did a thorough research and picked a recipe by the British queen of baking - Mary Berry. In fact, the recipe comes from Mary's mother so it's as traditional a recipe as you can find.

I made a few changes though, but I think the pudding is better for it. So follow along. Take an 8 inch glass or ceramic dish. Melt 100 grams butter and brush some of it along the base and sides of the baking dish.

Take 8 slices of white bread, cut off the crusts and then cut each slice into three pieces. Dip one side of each slice in melted butter. Arrange 8 pieces of bread in a single layer on the baking sheet, buttered side down. Mix 150 grams raisins or sultanas with 75 grams caster sugar and spread half of it on the bread. I still have some leftover mincemeat so I used some of that instead. Add another layer of bread, buttered side up. Add the rest of the dried fruit (or more mincemeat) and top with the third and final layer of bread, buttered side up.

Now make your custard. In a bowl, whisk together 200 ml cream, 250 ml milk, 2 eggs and 1 tsp vanilla essence. Strain and pour over the bread. Sprinkle 2 tbsp brown sugar on the top and let rest for an hour. Heat the oven to 180C and bake the pudding for 40-50 minutes until it's set, browned and risen a bit.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Tales of A Female Nomad

This month, our book club goes on a nomadic tour. We traveled with Rita Golden Gelman, a writer who sold everything she owned after the shock of a divorce and became a nomad. Not a tourist, because Rita stays away from everything that a tourist does and instead, tries to live the lives of people she visits.

From Mexico to Israel to Galapago Islands, Rita goes the way least traveled, always preferring to stay as a boarder with natives. And sometimes, going to places not even locals will go, places so secluded yet beautiful that Rita's description takes your breath away, urges you to become a nomad yourself.

Yet even nomads sometimes find their roots. Rita found hers in Bali where she spent eight years. Starting as a boarder with a prince, she eventually became a part of the family. I instantly knew I wanted to cook something Indonesian. I picked Nasi Goreng, the Indonesian fried rice.



There are as many recipes for Nasi Goreng as there are cooks. Some use tomatoes, others tamarind.…

The Bread Whisperer

What do an electrical engineer, a monk and an IT trainer have in common? These are all the things Abhilash was before he turned his attention to bread baking. Not the one to pick an easy path, Abhilash started with the most temperamental of breads - the sourdough - as his baking adventure. At first, he was baking these loaves for himself. Accolades from friends and family quickly followed and much to the delight of this writer, he turned his passion into a full time career six months back.

For the uninitiated, a sourdough bread is made by fermenting the dough with naturally occurring yeast, making it harder to perfect than the bread made with commercial yeast. The bread's signature tang and the open crumb, with lots of holes, is only made better with a high hydration dough that is super tricky to master. While extremely popular around the world, good sourdough is an elusive commodity in Mumbai and there are only a handful of bakers I would trust when I am looking for bread.

Thoro…

Mystery Fruit

This only happened a few times every year, just when the rainy season kicked in. A street hawker will come by, straw basket on head. He will yell "kaul chapni" and I will run out to buy a bundle of these. Stuck together like flowers, they looked like a bouquet. Every hole contains a little fruit. You break out the package, peel the tiny fruit that pops out and eat it. Done slowly, it can take you an hour to eat an head. Or did, when I was about 12 years old.

That was the last time I saw this fruit. I've never seen it again, didn't even know what it was called or where it came from. Three weeks back, Vikram Doctor wrote about a store in Khar that sells Sindhi foods. He described this fruit and I knew it came from my vivid childhood memories. And finally, I knew we were talking about lotus fruit.

Now talk about coincidences. Last weekend, I was passing by a lane in Bandra and for the first time in many, many years I saw the straw basket filled with my mytery fruit. It…