A Quaking Pudding

I was wandering through a little bookstore in Los Angeles one day.  The cookbook section was small but had some interesting books, including the one I decided to buy.

ISBN 0 907325 653

Such a simple title!  I was intrigued to open it and was not disappointed.  From page 7:

John Evelyn (1620 - 1706), virtuoso, diarist and author, was the second son of a prosperous gentry family of Wotton in Surrey, whose wealth was founded on the manufacture of gunpowder in Queen Elizabeth's reign.

The description goes on to tell us that, among other things, he was a founder of the Royal Society, and "the first gardener-cook for whom meat was incomplete without a salad."  He was particularly interested in gardening, architecture, and city planning.

The editor of this volume, Christopher Driver, tells us that he first saw the manuscripts of John Evelyn some time in the 1950s:

... I saw exhibited there a large volume bound in decorated calf gilt, with Evelyn's arms on the cover and his woodcut bookplate inside.  It was titled, Receipts Medicinal, and proved on inspected to contain not only prescriptions for sick cattle and humans, but receipts for the still-room, formulas for preserves and perfumery (many of these in Portuguese), and culinary recipes.  (page 8)

He later went back and typed up the receipts of cookery.  "Evelyn's neat - but faint - hand always gives me a frisson, as though a friend had planted a great walnut tree three centuries ago."

The story of John Evelyn's life, as far as the editor could determine, is a good read.  Mr. Evelyn lived during a time of change in England, and his manuscripts reflect that.  I recommend it.

There are 343 receipts listed, some of which have a title only and no text.  There are many repeats.  Mr. Driver has reproduced them faithfully, including the spelling of the time and making notes about words that were crossed out or added in after the original words were written.  He also tried to determine the relationships that are mentioned in the receipts, tying the name or title to a person known at the time, and how Mr. Evelyn or his family might have known them.

Especially useful is the Glossary, starting page 179, that defines so many of the words used in the receipts.  I think I would use this when reading other old recipes, too.  Did you know a "kilderkin" was 16 gallons of beer?

The first recipe that caught my attention was #76, on page 69:

A quaking pudding

Take eight egges a pinte of creame, 4 spoonefulls of flower, a nutmeg a little rosewater, a quantity of sugar you thinke fitt, wett the cloath you intend to boile it in, then floure it and let it boile two houres.

I have made boiled puddings before and usually enjoy them, so I wanted to try this one.  The idea of it "quaking" made me think it might be more delicate than the puddings I've tried that used a lot of flour or had a base of bread crumbs.

My Redaction

8 eggs
1 pint heavy cream
4 tablespoons flour
1/2 tablespoon freshly ground nutmeg
1 tablespoon rosewater
1/2 cup sugar

See the nutmeg bits?  I grated them then pounded the rest in a mortar.

First I filled a large pan up halfway with water and also filled the kettle, and began heating the water in both.

I broke the eggs into a bowl and beat them with a fork.  Then I poured in the cream and stirred it well.

The flour was spooned into the mixture.  First I stirred it to break up the clumps of flour, then beat it more vigorously to distribute the grains well.

The nutmeg and rosewater were stirred in next.

Finally, I added the sugar and stirred until all the sugar was dissolved.

The mixture looked a lot like pancake batter, but was very thin.

Yes, just like pancake batter.

I rinsed the pudding cloth well (this gets rid of any residual soap from the last washing), then draped it over a bowl that was deep enough to hold all the mixture.

I sprinkled flour over the cloth.  It shouldn't be thick but it should be spread around well.

The picture doesn't show it well, but the cloth is at least lightly sprinkled.

At this point the water in the large pan was simmering and the kettle was steaming.

So I poured the mixture into the cloth, pulled the edges up and gathered them into a bundle to contain the mixture.  I tied the edges together with a sturdy cotton string, not too snugly because you need to leave room for the pudding to swell.



Some of the mixture was seeping out so I worked quickly to get the cloth put into the large pan of hot water.  As soon as it touched the water, the parts seeping out cooked and stopped the leak.

I poured in enough hot water from the kettle to nearly fill the pan, putting the water level an inch or so below the top edge of the pan.

Finally, I gathered the excess cloth into a bundle and rested it on one of the handles of the pan.  This keeps it from falling over the edge and possibly catching on fire.

Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble!

I adjusted the flame under the pan until the water was just simmering without boiling over or bouncing the cloth around.  I noticed the water was circulating around the whole thing, and I liked that.

I set the timer for 2 hours.

After two hours of gently boiling it, I pulled the pudding cloth from the hot water, let it drain back into the pan for a minute or so, and then placed the whole thing in a bowl.  I removed the string and opened the cloth -- it is hot so be careful when touching it.

The top, as it came out of the cloth.

I could see the pudding was, indeed, quaking!  It looked delicate so I carefully put my serving bowl over the pudding's bowl and inverted it.  This allowed the pudding to transfer without breaking or having to pull the cloth off.

The underside.  I removed that bit of eggshell before serving.  The brown specks are nutmeg.

I sprinkled a little ground mace over the top to decorate it before serving.

It needed something decorative around the edges but that didn't happen.

The Verdict

The pudding was served still warm as a side dish to some pork confit on a bed of apples and onions, and a tossed green salad.  (Remember, John Evelyn thought meat was incomplete without a salad!)

It was easy to remove pieces with a spoon.  It was soft but firm enough to hold its shape.

Cut away view, from the side.

The texture was mostly smooth, meaning it felt smooth on the tongue but looked a little lumpy. 

The flavor was very delicate:  the rosewater and nutmeg combination suggested that some fruit had been added.  My guest taster thought there might be vanilla in it.  The sweetness was a little too much for me for it to be a side dish -- I think next time I would add only 1/3 cup sugar.  But it wasn't bad, and seemed to emphasize the sensation that fruit had been added.

My guest taster wondered if there was cheese in it, which I attribute to the heavy cream and the texture.

The ground mace was warmed by the pudding and provided a lovely scent to entice our taste buds.

It was, as I suspected, a delicate custard.  The little flour in it probably acted as a binder to allow me to turn it out into a dish without it breaking.  But that also allowed it to quake, or wiggle when the bowl was moved. 

A success, for certain!  We both enjoyed it as a side dish and I look forward to having the leftovers for breakfast or lunch.