Page 56 of Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

50g walnuts

50g dried cranberries

1 orange

3tbsp whisky or Grand Marnier

Put the dried fruits, dates, cranberries and ginger in a pan with the orange zest, juice and whisky or Grand Marnier. Warm gently for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. The mixture should look sticky.

Lightly grease a 1.3l/2 ¼ pint pudding basin, and line base with a disc of greaseproof paper. Beat the butter, sugar, eggs and flour together until light and creamy, then stir in the cooled fruits, breadcrumbs, cinnamon and nuts.

Spoon the mixture into the pudding basin, cover the bowl with greaseproof paper and foil, and tie on securely with a string. (It’s also wise to make a string handle or use a long strip of folded foil to put under the basin and up the sides to lift it out with.) Place basin in a large pan and carefully pour in boiling water from a kettle so it comes halfway up the bowl. Cover and steam for 3 hours, topping up the water every now and again.

Leave to cool, and keep in a cool place for at least one week before using.

The sauce can be made up to a day ahead. Melt the butter and sugar together in a pan. Tip in the walnuts and cook, stirring for a minute or two. Add the cranberries, orange juice and whisky, and simmer until bubbling, rich and syrupy. Cool, then chill until needed.

To serve: Steam the pudding for 1 hour to warm through. Warm the walnut sauce. Turn out the pudding, peel the lining paper from top and pile the nuts and cranberries from the sauce on top, spooning over the rest of the sauce. Decorate with holly leaves and a dusting of icing sugar.

A real festive delight!

24

The weeks rolled on in a haze of frantic activity and darkening winter nights. It was time for Pudding Club round three and Granny Ruth was still keen to take the helm this time around. Eve had offered to have Maisy to stay overnight, so the three Swinton ladies could steer the festive proceedings together.

Ruth was ready fifteen minutes before the start time, eager with all her ingredients set out neatly on the counter for her hands-on ‘Stir-up Sunday’ session (on a Thursday evening, of course, to fit in with the club night.) Rachel had put out yet more posters and flyers, and they’d had a fabulous editorial piece on Primrose Farm and the Pudding Pantry’s journey so far – with a special mention of the new Pudding Club and its Christmas Pudding night – in the Gazette again, so Rachel and Jill were hoping that there could be a further boost to club numbers.

First to arrive were Denise and Christine, and they’d encouraged two more from the local WI to come along – they’d heard about the antics of a certain Vanessa Palmer-Pilkington at the last session and, now that she was definitely not coming back, thought it an ideal time to join in. They were introduced as Eileen and Judith. Brenda from the Deli had made it along too.

Then a young woman shyly approached the barn door. ‘Ah, excuse me, is this the right place for the Pudding Club?’

‘Absolutely,’ welcomed Jill, ‘Come on in. I’m Jill, and what’s your name, pet?’

‘Alice.’

‘That’s a pretty name. And do you live nearby?’ She hadn’t seen her before.

‘Just down in Kirkton. We only moved in a few weeks ago.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely. You’ll find it’s a friendly little village. And coming along here’s a good place to start; it’ll give you chance to meet a few people.’

‘And eat lots of pudding, of course.’ Rachel smiled. ‘Hello Alice, nice to meet you. I’m Rachel, Jill’s daughter, we run the Pantry together.’

‘It’s gorgeous in here,’ said Alice, as she looked around her.

The wood-burning stove was lit, the Christmas tree was looking gorgeously festive in the far corner, with a string of extra fairy lights now hanging along the top of the refrigerated display counter twinkling away softly.

‘Thank you,’ answered Rachel, with a warm smile.

‘I’ve always loved baking,’ Alice commented, then she seemed to go a little shy again as the two young mums, Hannah and Kirsty, came in through the doors.

‘Hiya.’

‘Hello, all. We’re so looking forward to our Christmas Pudding session.’

Granny Ruth beamed at the head of the table, ready to take control of the evening.

Daniel was next to stroll in. ‘Sorry, I know I’m cutting it fine, had to stay a bit late on my shift at the care home. Staff illness.’