
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.
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Created by Chef Thomas
A whole lemon wrapped in suet pastry and steamed for the best part of an afternoon, until it collapses into a buttery, sticky pond of sauce that spills out when you cut it at the table.
This is a pudding for the coldest part of winter. January, probably. February if the cold hangs on. The kind of Sunday where the windows are running with condensation and nobody is going anywhere, and you need something on the hob for three hours that justifies the whole day.
The trick of a Sussex pond pudding is that you don't really do anything clever. You make a suet pastry, which takes about four minutes. You line a basin. You bury a pricked lemon in butter and demerara sugar, seal the lid, and put it in a pan of simmering water. Then you wait. For three and a half hours the kitchen slowly fills with the smell of lemon and caramel and something deep and buttery underneath, and you do other things: read, stoke the fire, wander in and top up the water.
When it comes out, you turn it out whole and carry it to the table. That's the rule. You do not portion this pudding in the kitchen. You cut it in front of the people who are going to eat it, because the moment the knife goes in and the butter-and-lemon pond floods out across the plate is the entire reason the pudding exists. There are few better feelings than that pause around the table when everyone leans in.
I wrote it down in the notebook years ago: lemon, butter, sugar, patience. Some recipes don't need much more than that.
Quantity
250g
plus extra for dusting
Quantity
125g
beef or vegetarian
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
150ml
approximately, enough to bring the dough together
Quantity
175g
cut into small cubes
Quantity
175g
Quantity
1 large
thin-skinned if possible, pricked all over
Quantity
for greasing
Quantity
to serve
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| self-raising flourplus extra for dusting | 250g |
| shredded suetbeef or vegetarian | 125g |
| fine sea salt | pinch |
| whole milkapproximately, enough to bring the dough together | 150ml |
| cold unsalted buttercut into small cubes | 175g |
| demerara sugar | 175g |
| unwaxed lemonthin-skinned if possible, pricked all over | 1 large |
| soft butter (optional) | for greasing |
| double cream or thick custard | to serve |
Butter a 1.2-litre pudding basin generously, getting into the curve at the bottom and right up over the rim. Put a large, deep pan of water on to boil with an upturned saucer or a trivet in the base. You need enough water to come two-thirds of the way up the basin once it's in. While that heats, tear a square of baking parchment and a square of foil, both large enough to pleat over the top of the basin with room to spare.
Tip the flour, suet and salt into a bowl and stir them through with your fingers. Add the milk a little at a time, bringing the mixture together with a round-bladed knife, then your hands, until you have a soft but not sticky dough. It should feel a bit like a scone dough, just heavier. Turn it out onto a lightly floured surface and give it the gentlest knead, no more than ten seconds. Suet pastry doesn't want to be worked. It wants to be left alone.
Cut a quarter of the dough off and set it aside for the lid. Roll the rest into a rough circle about the thickness of a pound coin, large enough to line the basin with a little overhang. Lift it carefully, lower it into the buttered basin and press it gently into the curve. Don't stretch it. Work any tears together with your thumb. The dough is forgiving, but only if you're patient with it.
Put half the cubed butter into the lined basin, then half the demerara sugar, scattering it into the gaps. Prick the lemon all over with a fork, twenty or thirty times, right through the skin and into the flesh. This is important. The holes are how the lemon gives itself up to the butter and sugar during the steaming. Nestle the whole lemon into the centre. Pack the remaining butter and sugar around and over it until the lemon is buried.
Roll the reserved piece of dough into a circle big enough to cover the top. Brush the overhanging pastry edge with a little water, lay the lid on, and press the edges together firmly to seal. Trim any ragged bits. The seal matters. If the pudding leaks during steaming, your pond drains away into the pan and you've lost the whole point of the thing.
Lay the pleated parchment over the basin, then the foil on top of that, and tie it in place firmly under the rim with kitchen string. Make a string handle across the top for lifting it out later. Lower the basin onto the trivet in the pan of simmering water. The water should reach two-thirds up the sides. Cover the pan, turn the heat to a steady simmer and leave it alone for three and a half hours. Check the water every half hour or so and top up with boiling water from the kettle when it gets low. Never let it boil dry.
When the time is up, lift the basin out carefully by its string handle. Let it sit for five minutes to settle. Cut away the string, peel back the foil and parchment, and run a palette knife around the edge. Place a deep-rimmed plate or shallow bowl on top, invert, and give it a firm shake. The pudding should slide out, golden and domed. Carry it to the table whole. Cut into it there, in front of everyone. The pond of buttery lemon sauce will spill out across the plate, and that's the moment the whole thing is for. Serve each portion with a piece of the lemon and a good pour of cold cream.
1 serving (about 165g)
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