Buzz
Welcome back to my Christmas Pudding Journey. In this holiday series, I, someone unfamiliar with the British tradition of figgy pudding, navigate the process of making one. I hope you find my reflections entertaining and perhaps feel motivated to try it yourself. Traditionally, preparing a Christmas pudding begins five Sundays before Christmas, but starting later is perfectly fine. You can steam and flambé it on the same day if you prefer. (If you read last week’s post about soaking the fruit, you’ll understand why.) Otherwise, join me in “curing the cake” weekly with a splash of brandy until Christmas arrives. But today is crucial—it’s steaming day.
A Christmas pudding is a steamed dessert, and as I mentioned, the process starts five Sundays before Christmas. This usually falls on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, so if you’re beginning around that time, you’re right on schedule. Known as Stir-up Sunday, this is when you combine all the ingredients and make wishes as you stir. You can add clean tokens to the batter for someone to discover on Christmas day, or skip this step. Personally, I avoid surprises in my food, so I left them out. After mixing, the cake is steamed for five hours. Yes, it’s a long time, but choose a day when you’re mostly around the kitchen, and the time will fly by.
Key ingredients and preparation tips
For those unaware, I’m following Nigella Lawson’s recipe as a base. I’ve made a few small adjustments, which I’ll explain shortly.
Below are the ingredients I incorporated:
Soaked fruit from week 1 (reduced by 50 grams, see note below)
50 grams of candied orange peel, finely chopped
150 grams (¾ cup, packed) dark brown sugar
100 grams all-purpose flour (approximately 1 cup minus one tablespoon)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
125 grams fresh bread crumbs
75 grams beef tallow (alternatives listed below)
75 grams butter, frozen and grated
3 eggs
Zest of one lemon
1 small apple, grated
2 teaspoons honey
This Christmas pudding project offers a glimpse into my approach to recipes. While I’m relying on Nigella’s recipe, I’m also exploring multiple others to compare techniques, wrapping methods for steaming, and ingredient variations. When it makes sense, I blend these insights to decide what goes into my pudding.
My first tweak involved the dried fruit. Last week, I detailed the fruit-soaking process, which I followed almost exactly. However, after browsing other recipes, I noticed some include candied orange peel, which I adore. Rather than regret missing out, I bought some candied peel and replaced 50 grams of the soaked fruit with it. This was my personal choice, but you can stick to the original recipe. The key takeaway is flexibility—feel free to use dried cranberries, cherries, apricots, or even nuts. As long as you have around four cups of dried, chopped fruit (and optionally nuts), you’re all set. (Got it? No? It’s fine.)
Aside from a few regional substitutions (dark brown sugar is nearly identical to the muscovado sugar in Nigella's recipe), I only needed to handle the fresh bread crumbs and beef suet. Fresh bread crumbs aren’t commonly discussed, but they simply mean making your own crumbs instead of using store-bought ones. I used around five and a half slices of plain sandwich bread—the soft, fluffy type—dried them out, and then processed them into crumbs using a food processor. You can dry the bread overnight or use the oven to speed up the process.
Next was the suet. This ingredient varies in availability depending on the region. Nigella’s recipe, like many others, calls for grated beef suet, which is the hard fat surrounding a cow’s kidneys. While it’s common in the U.K., it’s less so in parts of the U.S. After searching online for shredded beef suet, I accidentally ordered tallow instead. Tallow is rendered beef suet fat.
Some recipes suggest vegetable suet, butter, or a mix of grated butter and shortening. I opted for half grated butter and half tallow. I’m hoping the grated butter will create pockets of richness, while the tallow adds a hint of beef flavor. That said, any saturated fat you have on hand should work, especially if it can be grated. Be warned, though—tallow has a strong, greasy aroma. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s noticeable. We’ll see if the smell persists after five weeks. Keep this in mind when selecting your fat.
Steps to prepare the pudding
Making this pudding was an absolute delight. It felt like a blend of baking a cake and preparing a meatloaf. The best part? Nearly every recipe I consulted said you can mix all the ingredients however you like—just get them combined. Following my baking instincts, I started by mixing the dry ingredients: flour, spices, salt, and baking powder, then added them to the bread crumbs. Next, I combined the brown sugar with the soaked fruits. In a large bowl, I whisked together the eggs, grated Fuji apple, lemon zest, and honey. After that, I incorporated the fats into the egg mixture and gave it a good stir. The fruit mixture went in next, followed by the dry ingredients. Unlike many cakes or dishes that require precise mixing or folding, this process felt liberating—it was hard to mess up. As I mixed, I made a few wishes (a Stir-up Sunday tradition) and got ready for steaming.
Setting up the steaming vessel and pot
Here’s what I required:
1 glass bowl (6-cup capacity)
1 large pot (to fit the bowl)
18 inches of aluminum foil
16 inches of parchment paper
Kitchen string
I greased a 6-cup glass bowl with butter and placed a small parchment circle at the bottom. This trick, I read, helps the pudding release easily later—something I didn’t want to risk, especially with my meatloaf-like cake. I pressed the mixture firmly into the buttered bowl to eliminate air pockets and smoothed the surface. Following a blog tip, I ran my finger around the edge to “seal” it, which also gave the pudding a cleaner appearance. Finally, I placed another parchment circle on top.
This step is a bit fiddly. The pudding needs to be tightly covered but with enough room to expand from the steam inside. Since it’ll sit in boiling water for hours, any gaps could let condensation drip in, resulting in a soggy pudding. To prevent this, I learned to create a parchment and foil cover with a pleat in the center to allow for expansion. Who would’ve thought I’d be doing this in 2023?
Here’s how to do it: Lay out the foil, then place the parchment on top, aligning them in the same direction. Trim the parchment so it’s about half an inch smaller than the foil on all sides. Both sheets should extend at least an inch beyond the bowl’s rim, but extra length is fine since we’ll trim it later.
Grab the center of the foil and parchment from opposite sides with your fingers. Pull about an inch forward to overlap the bottom, then press down to create a crease.
With the pleat in place, your pudding can release steam without breaking the seal. Flip the sheet so the parchment faces down and center it over the pudding bowl, aligning the crease. Secure the foil tightly around the edges.
Wrap kitchen string around the bowl’s edge twice, ensuring it’s as tight as possible without tearing anything. Tie it securely. Trim the excess foil and parchment, leaving about an inch overhang. Tuck the foil under to encase the parchment and press it against the bowl for a neat finish. You can create a string handle by threading additional string across the bowl, anchoring it to the sealing string. Be cautious not to loosen the main seal. This handle can be useful for lifting the hot bowl from the pot later.
Time to steam
To steam the pudding effectively, ensure the bowl isn’t in direct contact with the heat source. A short steamer basket works well, but the lid must seal tightly after adding the pudding. Since I didn’t have a suitable steamer basket, I used a mason jar lid ring instead. Place the pudding on the steamer or jar ring, then carefully pour hot water from a kettle along the pot's side. The water level should reach about an inch up the bowl or halfway, ensuring it doesn’t touch the foil lid.
Initially, I mistakenly poured water over the foil lid—definitely not recommended. Fortunately, the lid held, and I quickly cleaned up the spill. Afterward, I carefully added water to the pot, covered it, and turned the heat to medium. Once the water began boiling after about five minutes, I reduced the heat to a gentle simmer. As long as steam was rising, everything was on track. I set a timer for five hours and went about my day.
Ensure the pot doesn’t run out of water by checking the water level after an hour. A tightly sealed lid might only need one or two refills, but mine was loose, allowing steam to escape. I kept my kettle filled with hot water to replenish the pot hourly.
After the cooking time elapsed, I turned off the heat and placed the pudding on a wire rack to cool. There’s no reliable way to test if the pudding is fully cooked without opening it, which could compromise the seal. However, I wasn’t concerned—five hours should be more than enough time to cook it thoroughly.
After letting it cool for roughly 20 minutes, I removed the strings and lifted the lid. The aroma was overwhelming, as if a gingerbread bakery had just opened in my kitchen. It truly smelled like Christmas. All my earlier concerns—about the pudding resembling meatloaf, smelling like beef grease, or needing a pleated cover for its first steaming—were completely dispelled. I’m thrilled with how this pudding turned out. I wrapped it securely in plastic wrap and stored it in the microwave (not to cook it, but because my microwave doubles as extra storage—welcome to New York). Now, the plan is to feed it brandy for a month and keep my fingers crossed. I’ll be investing in a quality brandy, and we’ll see how it progresses next week.
