Great Expectations

I come from two long lines of Pudding Masters. My mother, my mother's mother, my father's mother, my mother's mother's mother, my mother's father's mother, my father's mother's mother and so on. So many generations of women who could take a few handfuls of dried out fruit, some weevilly old flour and spice and whip up the crowning glory of any Christmas feast. Nay, festivity.

Though Christmas day be far too important for the newest woman in the gene pool (moi) to practise her puddinging, and the pudding recipe being far too revered for an any-old-day day, a very kind and goodly gentleman has provided the perfect opportunity- a sneaky early Christmas!

So the ritual began last night, continued this morning before work, now simmers tonight ready to dry before the final stage- the glorious heat and eat! I wish I could promise to you the same heavenly treat on Friday- the very epitome of celebratory dessert, that my family and I tuck into on Dec 25 but alas, it will merely be a pud by my own novice hands.