TRICK OR TREAT

STEVE CUMPER CONJURES UP AN ALLURING DESSERT.

Steve Cumper’s pudding takes its cue from an illustrated favourite by artist Norman Lindsay.

AS A LONG-TIME ADMIRER of Norman Lindsay’s work, when I discovered this was Country Style’s annual art issue my thoughts turned to his illustrated tale The Magic Pudding, which has captivated children for more than 100 years. A pudding therefore seemed the obvious choice for this month’s column (besides, the editor said my initial idea to recreate the Mona Lisa using pasta had already been done). As a child I was intrigued by Lindsay’s story of a cut-and-come-again pudding that reforms after you eat it — no wonder everyone wanted to steal it! But as I turned the pages, the book induced a sense of simmering unease as the acclaimed artist’s depiction of the characters seemed rather dark. Perhaps it was the angle of Bill Barnacle’s permanently arched eyebrows, hinting at the pudding owner’s cruelty and possessiveness. Or maybe it was the overt ugliness of Albert the pudding, whose bandy spider-like limbs and ill temper made him supremely unappealing. Either way, it kind of creeped me out. I could never really understand why Lindsay made Albert so unappetising and yet so many of the book’s characters wanted to eat him. However, these childhood anxieties did little to dampen my enthusiasm for pudding, and today the mere mention of the word gives me warm and fuzzy feelings of gratification, security and pleasure. In fact, it’s the kind of dish that when glimpsed in the dessert section of a menu has me recalibrating my initial entree and main choices in order to accommodate its inherent richness. For this issue I’ve created a recipe for boiled pudding, which was a common cooking method when Lindsay’s literary classic was written. “Boiling a pudding?!” — I can hear the incredulous cries from young ’uns momentarily distracted from their screens. “Yes, boiled, just like Nanna’s Christmas pud... Had you never noticed?” Goodness knows what they’d think of black pudding, which is savoury and made predominantly from blood. I prefer to call it boudin noir, even though the French name does little to disguise the flavour (which is best described as having an acquired taste born of malnutrition, desperation and resourcefulness). Suffice to say, my pudding predilections are inherently sweet, possibly due to the barrage of television commercials I endured as a child extolling the virtues of Big Sister Self-saucing Puddings. After hassling Mum for weeks, she finally relented and bought me a can to try. I remember the boiled tin being too hot for my little hands to operate the can-opener effectively and I fumbled to turn it upside down onto a plate so that it could be enveloped in the sweet, sticky sauce. Sadly, like many of the personal food epiphanies I have shared in this column, this experience proved disappointing rather than revelatory. It didn’t matter though, as the seeds were sown and my professional menus and home entertaining since that time usually featured pudding in some form or another. This recipe does take a bit of time to prepare, but your patience will be justly rewarded. And while it may not reappear after you eat it like The Magic Pudding, it’s certainly prettier and you can always make it again! Steve Cumper is a chef and funnyman who lives in Tasmania and dreams of one day owning a fleet of holiday vans called Wicked Cumpers.

MAGIC PUDDING

Serves 8 30g butter, melted 2 tablespoons caster sugar extra 250g butter, chopped ½ cup golden syrup ½ cup brown sugar 1 cup milk 1 tablespoon ground cinnamon 1 teaspoon ground nutmeg 1 teaspoon ground cloves 2 tablespoons brandy 1 cup dried apple, diced ½ cup dried apricots, diced ½ cup currants 1 tablespoon mixed peel 3 eggs, whisked 1½ cups self-raising flour 1 teaspoon baking powder vanilla custard, to serve

Brush an 8-cup capacity pudding basin with half of melted butter and place in refrigerator for 10 minutes to set. Brush with remaining melted butter. Add caster sugar, turning basin to coat inside. Shake out excess sugar, then line base of pudding basin with baking paper. Place extra butter, golden syrup, brown sugar, milk, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground cloves, brandy, apple, apricot, currants and mixed peel in a large heavy-based saucepan over a medium heat. Stir until butter and syrup melt. Bring to boil, then simmer for 2 minutes. Cool. Add egg, flour and baking powder to fruit mixture and stir to combine. Pour into prepared basin. Cover surface of pudding mixture with a disc of baking paper. Cover basin with a tight-fitting lid or a double layer of foil secured with kitchen string. Place a trivet or an upturned heatproof saucer in base of a large, deep saucepan. Place basin on trivet and add enough boiling water to pan to reach halfway up side of basin. Bring to boil over a high heat. Cover pan with a lid and simmer, topping up with boiling water from kettle if necessary, for 2 hours or until a skewer inserted into centre of pudding comes out clean. Remove pudding basin from pan and stand for 30 minutes. Turn warm pudding onto a plate and serve with vanilla custard.