
Chef Thomas
Apple Charlotte
Buttered bread baked to a deep mahogany around a filling of spiced Bramley apples, turned out at the table in a small moment of drama, cold cream poured from a jug alongside.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by Chef Thomas
A sheet of soft suet pastry rolled around raspberry jam and steamed until it swells into something pale, sticky and quietly splendid. A January pudding for an evening that needs one.
AJanuary pudding. The kind that makes sense when it's dark by four and the rain won't commit to being snow. The jam, though, is from August, which is part of the point: a bit of summer tucked away in a jar, waiting for an evening like this one.
They used to call it dead man's arm, which tells you everything about the shape and nothing about the pleasure. A sheet of soft suet pastry rolled around a generous slick of raspberry jam, steamed until it swells into something pale and sticky and quietly splendid. Not elegant. Not clever. One of those old puddings that knows exactly what it is and asks nothing of you except a bit of patience and a decent jar of jam.
The jam matters more than anything. Use the best raspberry jam you've got, or open the one you made last summer and thought you'd save for something. This is the something. Serve it with proper custard, warm and yellow and slightly too much. We're only making dinner, but dinner ends with this, and that changes the whole evening.
I wrote it down in the notebook years ago, after the first time I made one: suet, jam, custard, rain. Still all you need to know.
Quantity
250g
plus extra for dusting
Quantity
125g
beef or vegetable
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
about 150ml
Quantity
8 tablespoons
Quantity
a splash
for brushing
Quantity
for dusting
Quantity
to serve
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| self-raising flourplus extra for dusting | 250g |
| shredded suetbeef or vegetable | 125g |
| caster sugar | 2 tablespoons |
| fine sea salt | pinch |
| cold water | about 150ml |
| good raspberry jam | 8 tablespoons |
| milkfor brushing | a splash |
| caster sugar | for dusting |
| proper custard | to serve |
Get the steaming sorted before you start on the pastry. The easiest way is a deep roasting tin in the oven: set the oven to 180C/160C fan, put a rack in the middle, and slide a roasting tin of just-boiled water onto the shelf below. If you'd rather steam on the hob, use your largest lidded pan with a trivet or upturned saucer at the bottom and pour in boiling water to come about a third of the way up.
In a bowl, stir the flour, suet, sugar, and salt together with your fingers until the suet is evenly distributed through the flour. Add the cold water a little at a time, mixing with a knife, until the dough pulls together. You want it soft but not sticky, something like a slightly heavier scone dough. Turn it out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for a few seconds, just enough to bring it into a smooth ball.
Roll the dough into a rectangle roughly 30cm by 20cm, about half a centimetre thick. Don't agonize over the measurements. A rough rectangle with the long side facing you is all you're after. The edges will be a bit ragged and that is absolutely fine.
If the jam is stiff from the fridge, stir a spoonful of just-boiled water into it to loosen it. You want something that will melt into the pastry as it cooks, not a solid line refusing to cooperate. Spread the jam generously across the pastry, leaving a 2cm border all the way round. The border is what stops the jam bursting out when you roll, so don't be tempted to cover every inch.
Brush the border lightly with milk. Starting from one of the short sides, roll the pastry up into a firm log, not crushing it, just keeping it snug. Pinch the long seam and the two ends together to seal in the jam. It won't be neat. It isn't meant to be. Brush the whole thing lightly with milk to help the colour.
Lay a big sheet of baking parchment on the counter with a sheet of foil on top. Place the roly-poly in the middle, seam down. Wrap it up loosely, giving the pudding a good third more room to expand as it steams. Twist the ends like a cracker and, if you've got string, tie them off. This is the step that matters most: a pudding wrapped too tightly splits at the seams; one wrapped too loosely goes soggy.
Lower the wrapped pudding onto the rack above the water tray, or into the pan of simmering water. Cover tightly and leave it alone for an hour and a half. Check the water level halfway through and top up with boiling water from the kettle if it's getting low. When it's ready, the pudding will feel firm and springy through the foil, and the kitchen will smell of warm jam and buttery pastry. That smell is how you know.
Lift the pudding out carefully. It will be hot and heavier than you expect. Let it rest on a board for a few minutes, then unwrap it gently. The surface should be pale gold and slightly tacky, with streaks of deep ruby where the jam has bled through. Dust generously with caster sugar and cut into thick slices with a sharp knife. Serve at once, with more custard than seems sensible.
1 serving (about 120g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Thomas
Buttered bread baked to a deep mahogany around a filling of spiced Bramley apples, turned out at the table in a small moment of drama, cold cream poured from a jug alongside.

Chef Thomas
Whole Bramley apples cored and stuffed with butter, brown sugar and plump dried fruit, baked until they collapse and the kitchen fills with the smell of autumn getting on with itself.

Chef Thomas
A proper baked rice pudding, slow-cooked in whole milk with butter and nutmeg until the top sets into a freckled golden skin. The kind of pudding that makes January feel like less of a long haul.

Chef Thomas
Wild blackberries and Bramley apples collapsed together under a thick, sandy crumble, the pudding that makes September feel like it's worth staying in for.