
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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A steamed sponge pudding with golden syrup pooling down its sides, served with proper vanilla custard. The pudding to make when the clocks have gone back and the kitchen window has fogged over.
This is a pudding for the dark half of the year. Not autumn exactly, not quite the depths of January either, but that long stretch in between when it's dark by five and the cold gets into the bones and what you need, more than anything, is a warm bowl of something sweet and steam-risen.
A treacle sponge is the simplest sort of magic. You butter a basin, pour golden syrup into the bottom, spoon a light sponge batter over the top, and steam the whole thing for an hour and three quarters. That's it. No cleverness. While it cooks, the sponge rises above the syrup and the syrup creeps up into the sponge, and when you turn it out onto a plate the two have reached an understanding: the sponge soft and featherlight, the syrup pooled and glistening and running slowly down the sides. There are few better feelings than carrying one to the table.
The lemon matters. A tablespoon of juice in with the syrup and a little zest in the sponge. Without it, the pudding tips into the cloying. With it, the sweetness has somewhere to go. I wrote it down in the notebook years ago: "treacle sponge, lemon, Tuesday, rain." I still think that's the right weather for it.
And proper custard. Not a packet. I know the packet is quicker and I know it's fine, but this is a pudding that deserves the real thing, made with egg yolks and vanilla and a bit of patience at the hob. We're only making dinner. It's worth ten minutes of your attention.
Quantity
175g
softened, plus extra for the basin
Quantity
175g
Quantity
3
at room temperature
Quantity
175g
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 lemon
Quantity
6 generous tablespoons
plus more for serving
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
600ml
Quantity
1
split, or 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Quantity
6
Quantity
75g
Quantity
1 tablespoon
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| unsalted buttersoftened, plus extra for the basin | 175g |
| golden caster sugar | 175g |
| large eggsat room temperature | 3 |
| self-raising flour | 175g |
| baking powder | 1 teaspoon |
| whole milk | 2 tablespoons |
| lemon zest | 1 lemon |
| golden syrupplus more for serving | 6 generous tablespoons |
| fresh lemon juice | 1 tablespoon |
| fine sea salt | pinch |
| whole milk (for custard) | 600ml |
| vanilla podsplit, or 1 teaspoon vanilla extract | 1 |
| large egg yolks | 6 |
| caster sugar (for custard) | 75g |
| cornflour | 1 tablespoon |
Butter a 1-litre pudding basin generously. Don't be shy about it. Get into the corners, up the sides, all the way to the rim. Spoon the golden syrup into the bottom with the lemon juice. It will pool there, amber and glossy, and sit patiently while you make the sponge above it.
In a large bowl, beat the butter and sugar together until pale, fluffy, and considerably lighter than when you started. This takes a good four or five minutes with a wooden spoon, less with an electric whisk. The mixture should look almost whipped and smell faintly of caramel. Don't rush it. This is where the lightness comes from.
Beat in the eggs one at a time, with a spoonful of the flour after each to stop the mixture curdling. It will look briefly alarming. Keep going. Once all the eggs are in, stir through the lemon zest. The batter should smell bright and buttery.
Sift the remaining flour with the baking powder and salt, then fold it into the batter with a large metal spoon. Gentle, deliberate strokes. Add the milk at the end to loosen everything to a soft dropping consistency, the kind that falls reluctantly from the spoon when you give it a shake. Not runny. Not stiff. Somewhere between.
Spoon the batter carefully over the syrup, trying not to disturb the pool at the bottom. Smooth the top with the back of the spoon. Leave a good centimetre of clearance below the rim. The sponge will rise, and it needs somewhere to go.
Cut a square of baking parchment and a square of foil, each big enough to cover the basin with overhang. Lay the parchment over the foil and make a pleat down the middle to allow for expansion. Press this over the top of the basin, foil side up, and tie it on tightly with string just under the rim. Trim the excess. Lower the basin into a large saucepan and pour in boiling water to come two-thirds of the way up the sides. Bring to a gentle simmer, cover the pan, and steam for one hour and forty-five minutes.
While the pudding steams, make the custard. Warm the milk with the split vanilla pod in a heavy saucepan until it's just about to simmer. Take it off the heat and let it sit for ten minutes to infuse. In a bowl, whisk the yolks with the sugar and cornflour until pale and thick. Pour the warm milk over the yolks in a slow stream, whisking constantly, then return everything to the pan. Cook over a low heat, stirring steadily with a wooden spoon, until the custard thickens enough to coat the back of the spoon. A line drawn through with your finger should hold. Don't let it boil.
When the pudding is done, it will feel springy to the touch and smell like the best kind of winter afternoon. Lift it out of the pan carefully. Snip the string, peel back the foil and parchment, and run a palette knife around the edge. Place a deep plate over the top, invert, and lift the basin away. The syrup will come cascading down the sides, glossy and dark and catching the light. Pour custard generously around it. Serve at once, while everything is still warm and the syrup is still moving.
1 serving (about 315g)
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