A Christmas Pudding with a story to tell
Not all Christmas puddings are created equal. Some are heavy enough to stop Christmas lunch in its tracks. Ours is different. Lighter, packed with fruit and full of flavour. Everything a Christmas pudding should be, without weighing you down.
The response we hope for, and hear most often, is a simple one: “That was delicious, and so much lighter than I expected.”
We take pudding very seriously. Ourselves, a little less so.
Where it all began
The Harris Pudding Co. began with a pudding, some thirty years before the company had a name.
It started at The Capital Hotel in Knightsbridge, where I watched the pastry chef prepare Christmas puddings in August, allowing them months to mature. That patience stayed with me.
I began making puddings for family Christmases, eventually preparing them a full year in advance. The tradition continues today. While everyone else is enjoying summer, we’re already thinking about Christmas.
A recipe refined over 30 years
I grew up enjoying Christmas puddings from some of Britain’s finest names in food. They were excellent, but always a little too rich, dense and heavy for my taste.
I wanted something different. Not to reinvent Christmas pudding, but to question a few traditions.
Out went the large pieces of nut, much to my grandmother’s relief. Cognac made way for dark rum, bringing warmth and spice without overpowering the fruit.
The result is a generously fruity pudding with a lighter texture and a cleaner finish. Not lighter in calories, simply lighter to eat. And all the more enjoyable for it.
The recipe has evolved, but the ceremony has not changed at all.
The pudding steams slowly for two hours or more. It is turned out onto the best plate and finished with a sprig of holly from the garden. Then it is warmed with rum and set alight, and the whole table goes quiet waiting for the first flame. Even those who decline a slice wouldn’t miss it.
Then comes the question of what to serve with it: brandy butter, custard, cream, or something more adventurous. My family has debated this for decades without reaching a verdict. My own loyalty has always been to brandy butter.
Meet Max
Every house has its characters. Ours was Max.
The black cat of my childhood, Max had a particular weakness for cream, custard and butter. One Christmas, he climbed onto the dining table and came within a whisker of the brandy butter before my grandmother intervened. He withdrew with the air of a cat who had done nothing wrong.
Mischievous, persistent and entirely unrepentant, Max and The Harris Pudding Co. have rather a lot in common. Both know they’re probably not supposed to be helping themselves to the brandy butter. Both do it anyway.
Max has since been asked to keep away from it. He has acknowledged the request.
Now, about the puddings . . . .
Discover the puddings that started it all