Newly born, they always look a bit like a mud-filled pudding basin, covered with dirty paper, muslin, and old string; not the most attractive things on earth.
We had agreed this year, NOT to have a Plum Pudding (Christmas Pud'), but then I found Lady Magnon up to her surreptitious elbows in dried fruits and brandy, in a steam filled kitchen. She simply couldn't face the idea of not having a Pud', complete with hidden coin, brandy butter, and thick cream (no custard in this house), as part of the big eat-fest.
We have always liked traditional fare at Christmas. Almost all of what we eat, and the way in which it is prepared, would have been familiar in Victorian kitchens. Roasted Turkey or Goose, stuffings, traditional accompanying vegetables, and home-made Plum Pudding; would have been prepared in a very similar manner in all but the very poorest of households.
So, look what was underneath all that junk; a perfectly cooked, and shaped, Christmas Pud'.
Now that my appetite is more modest than when I was younger, I find eating anything at all after a kilo or so of Turkey meat, rather daunting. But, not to be thought a killjoy, I always have a small piece of flaming Pud', just to make that wish;..... and I usually regret it.
Maybe Christmas Pud' should be served as a meal in itself, just a big slice, a generous amount of brandy butter, and a nice big dollop of thick cream. Only 4,000 calories, and enough fuel for a week!
I should add that Lady M's last minute Pud' was bloody excellent.