Well, I should have known better really.
I’m drawn to these things.
Now, a steamed sponge pudding is a thing of beauty, as is the magnificent Bakewell Pudding but someone – probably the same guy who thought langoustines on a starry gazy pie was a good idea – thought it would be a splendid wheeze to meld the two for no real discernible reason. What might have been a triumph turned into something fascinatingly awful.
Take a sponge pudding, flavour it with almonds, stud it with some cherries that aren’t maraschino but taste as weirdly artificial, smother it with raspberry jam and then steam. Then freeze. Then microwave until it’s just on the point of burning in its centre and the top has become so dry and crunchy it’s *almost* pastry.
Turn out onto a dish that’s way too big and serve – and here is the final insult – with a minuscule jug of chilled custard.
Now any one of these elements would have been good; the idea of a steamed almond sponge has me considering making one at some point over the winter, a steamed cherry sponge would be great, too but all of this disparate elements together on one plate was tragic. It served no purpose but to alienate fans of both puddings.
But the custard.
Cold custard with a steamed sponge pudding?
Somewhere in heaven, God is weeping.