THE PLUM PUDDING

We took a Plum Pudding down to my cousin’s this day – two days after Christmas.

He is a World War 2 veteran, B-17 pilot, and he has loved the dark little creations from our cultural past for as long as he has lived.

The recipe is authentic British 19th Century – no plums – very, very firm until you bring them back to life, out of storage.

We make six every two years.
It takes half a day to make ‘em – three hours to revive ‘em on the day of serving.

Today we restored and served the last of six, the runt of the litter – it was two years old.

This spring we will make six more.

Our family recipe calls for serving it with a whipped cream condiment – not the kind from a can.

The pudding is steamed for at least three hours in a covered wok to prepare it for the flaming.

At the end of Christmas Dinner, the festive party crackers are ‘crackered’ and opened – paper hats put on and goodies and pithy sayings shared – and then it is time…

The pudding is removed from the bowl – placed on a serving platter, not too big, not too small – and then garnished with several ounces of fine cognac – amazing how the cheaper varieties produce an inferior flame and taste.

A match, wooden, of course, is touched to the small pool of cognac surrounding the pudding, the lights having been further dimmed, and the shimmering blue flame is the delight of the moment.

This has been a tradition in our family for my entire life, one looked forward to.

We omit the copper penny custom of our Victorian and Edwardian forebears, but all else is the same.

The dark color, the unique, succulent taste….

And we are concerned.

Aunts and Uncles and Parents and Grandparents have passed away, and no one, absolutely no young people in our family has any interest in our pudding tradition.

We are not talking fruit cake here –

Now we have nothing against the fruit cake – but we are here talking plum pudding!

The modern American has no idea what a plum pudding is – and when they taste it, it does not appeal.
But is should appeal - it is not fast food; it is not like anything else available these days - and it tastes good, albeit different.

So, this Christmas, for the first time, we decided not to share the ‘runt’ with the family on Christmas Day.

Instead of taking a leftover part to our Cousins – they are too ill to come up to our house - we revived the pudding and took the non-leftover pudd to them – intact – uncut – and it was terrific.

The four of us did our duty with the little gem.
We congratulated ourselves on our good fortune of being able to share the dinner and the pudding as we have done for over fifty years.

And we discussed the ending of another tradition.

The world is probably not a better world when men and women wear hats; when a gentleman removes his hat when addressing a lady; when he opens a door for her; when he lets her go first; when she enjoys his doing of these things, and other things; when certain things are just not said in the presence of ‘the opposite sex’; when one wears Wellington boots when walking through wet grasses; when one likes to walk his English bulldog while ‘wearing a blackthorn walking stick; and on and on, but perhaps such a world is more colorful, more courteous; more fun.

Just imagine the interest one generates at the meat counter and in the checkout lane when he requests a pound or two of beef suet to help in the preparation of food, not for birds, but for Christmas Dinner for his family.

I confess that I love it, all the more because I do not do such things to amaze anyone – but rather to enjoy a very wonderful treats and customs from my very own past.