Buzz
Christmas always manages to sneak up on me. Despite preparing for it for five weeks, it still feels like it came too quickly. This marks the grand finale of my six-part series, Allie’s Christmas Pudding Chronicles, and whether I'm ready or not, it's time to flambé a Christmas pudding.
I embarked on this journey back in November, on Stir-up Sunday, intrigued by the age-old tradition of a Christmas pudding. For those just joining in, Christmas pudding is a dense, spiced dessert made from dried fruits, breadcrumbs, sugar, and fat. It's a staple in the UK, as well as countries like New Zealand, Canada, and Australia. Coming from the US, where fruit-filled cakes are often met with skepticism, and the word “pudding” conjures images of creamy custards, I was excited to dive into this new holiday treat.
It didn’t disappoint. Every stage of the process was an adventure, from soaking the dried fruit, to steaming it, followed by the weekly brandy “feedings”, and making brandy butter (the hard sauce). Now, the moment has arrived to serve it up in a dramatic flare of flames. There’s a lot to cover in this post, so before we think about flambéing, let's focus on reheating the pudding first. Let’s get started.
Re-steam the pudding
Just when you thought steaming a dessert for five hours seemed like thorough work, it’s back into the steamer once again. On Stir-up Sunday, the Sunday following Thanksgiving, I mixed the batter, poured it into a heatproof glass bowl, wrapped it meticulously with foil, parchment paper, and kitchen string, and steamed it for five long hours. But now, it’s time to steam it again—but this time, just for two hours instead of five.
If you’ve been making your own pudding along with me, a couple of hours before serving, rewrap the bowl and steam it again. (Check this post for pictures showing how to wrap the bowl and set up the steamer.) The purpose of re-steaming is simply to heat the pudding all the way through without losing its moisture. After five weeks of “curing,” it’s perfectly normal for the pudding to dry out a little, even if it’s been carefully covered and generously doused with brandy each week.
I’ve read that some people unmold the pudding, wrap it in foil, and heat it in the oven for an hour at 300ºF, or wrap it in vented plastic and microwave it for 15 minutes. However, these methods can dry the pudding out even more—or worse. (If you’ve ever forgotten a soft roll in the microwave, you know exactly what I mean—it turns into something mummified.) The steamer, on the other hand, creates a humid environment and uses gentle heat, making it a much safer choice for keeping the pudding moist. Considering all the effort you’ve put in, why risk ruining it now?
As I mentioned earlier in this series, I’m following Nigella Lawson’s recipe as a guide. Some people suggest steaming the pudding for only an hour, while Lawson’s instructions recommend three hours. My pudding, though dense, is in a wider, shallower bowl, so I steamed it for about 90 minutes to get it just right.
Unmold the pudding
Once the pudding is fully reheated, carefully lift it from the steamer and place it on a wire rack to cool. Let it cool until it’s just warm enough to handle; for me, this took about 20 minutes. Take an inverted plate and place it on top of the bowl, then flip both so the pudding falls gracefully onto the plate. Remove the bowl, and there it is. Does it resemble a large, mottled brown blob? Yes. But I know the truth—it’s a steaming, spiced delight dotted with juicy fruits and emitting fragrant bursts of alcohol.
A few small sections of my pudding stuck to the bowl, but it wasn’t disastrous. I simply used a rubber spatula to carefully lift the bits off and reposition them back onto the cake. If your pudding doesn’t come out easily, flip it back right-side up, run a knife around the edges, and gently slide a knife or fork between the cake and the bowl. It’s possible the pudding has created a vacuum, so making a small break for air will help loosen it. Peel off the parchment paper from the bottom, and for a touch of decoration, top it with fake holly or sugared cranberries for a festive presentation.
Flambé and serve
Flambéing a Christmas pudding is the traditional way to serve it, though you could definitely skip that step and just slice it up. But I’m telling you, don’t skip it—it’s too fun! There are several safe ways to light alcohol on fire, and if you’re unfamiliar with the process, you can check out some flambé tips. Normally, I heat the alcohol on the stovetop before igniting it, but this time, I tried something a bit more laid-back: using a candle to flame the pud right at the table. Of course, I did what any self-respecting professional would do and watched a YouTube video for guidance.
Lighting alcohol on fire requires two main steps: first, heat the alcohol to make it release more fumes, then ignite those fumes. Usually, you’d heat it in a pan on the stove and then light it with a lighter or a gas burner. But in this case, I set up my station right at the dinner table (or sometimes the coffee table, because that’s how we roll in apartments). I lit a candle and placed the plated pudding next to it. To flambé, you need a high-proof alcohol—ideally somewhere between 80 and 90 proof, such as vodka, rum, or brandy. I used the same Neversink Spirits Orchard Brandy I’ve been using to “feed” Li’l Pud.
Next, grab a metal ladle and pour about 2 to 3 ounces of alcohol into it. Hold the ladle over the candle, gently moving it around to warm up the alcohol for about 20 seconds. Then tilt the ladle towards the flame and try to ignite the fumes. It seemed pretty easy in the video, but I had a hard time getting the flame to ignite without spilling brandy into my candle. So, I had to bring in a lighter for extra help. After reheating the brandy over the candle, I lit the edge of the ladle and watched as blue flames flickered. I poured the flaming brandy over the Christmas pudding—honestly, it was the closest I’ll ever feel to being a wizard.
The flames disappear almost as quickly as they appear, but they’re thrilling to watch while they last. Serve the pudding with the brandy butter you made last week (it only takes a minute to make) and dive in. I can say with confidence: fruitcake haters can keep walking. This is one amazing pud. The dried fruit remained incredibly moist, even after soaking so long ago, and the balance of sweetness with a touch of tanginess was perfect. Any trace of the greasy beef tallow (since suet didn’t work out) was completely gone. What remained was a wonderful blend of warming spices and the deep, treacly notes of molasses and fruit. And, of course, the brandy. That weekly drizzle of brandy soaked all the way through the pudding, leaving a bold flavor. The texture was light, fluffy, and incredibly moist.
I now understand why making a Christmas pudding is something people eagerly anticipate every year. It’s like a delicious way to mark the entire holiday season, and I might even start my own tradition with it. Although, next year, I think I’ll halve the recipe and make a smaller version. This one will take me some time to finish, but at least I know it’ll last for weeks. Wishing you a merry Christmas. I hope you enjoyed following my Christmas Pudding Chronicles—I certainly did.
