Aunt Milis Maremeadow’s Bread and Butter Pudding

Maith Ailineighdaeth one and all!

I have been injured and have not been able to finish much of the work I wanted to in the last month, but to give you something by way of Frewyn holiday gift, the Charms and Rituals of Frewyn will be free for the week and below is Aunt Milis' recipe for Maremeadow's famous bread and butter pudding.

Enjoy!

Aunt Milis Maremeadow’s Bread and Butter Pudding:

Baronous Hodge on bread pudding: “There is an odd thing about bread pudding. We all like it—we
must, really, because two of the main ingredients are things which we all must like—but it is a strange thing using a savoury for a sweet. In Frewyn, this practice is not done often, and while bread may be made sweet and used as a substitute on a table with little in the way of dessert to dress it, to see anything with raisins and yeast in the same recipe in Frewyn is a rarity. And perhaps, it should stay that way. Frewyn understands that dried fruit in general ought to be used sparingly, and no mistress in a marm’s kitchen would care put candied fruit inside a cake here. Taste beats tradition down every time in this country—as a once-Marridonian, I am allowed to say that—and Frewyn is blessed with so many exquisite desserts that the notion of a bread pudding is quite simply ridiculous. How came it here? I wondered, and when I discovered that bread pudding is a midlands specialty, I became even more curious. The origin of bread pudding is from Upper Alys, a contagion which fed into Llangollyn by way of the mining communities, the working men and women being forced by prudence and poverty to save their crusts and make them somewhat palatable a second time. The original pudding was a questionable collection of meat scraps, stewed vegetables, and hard bread that needed to soak some kind of liquid to be made comestible—though this says nothing about the flavour—and once the poor in Marridon realized this could be done with a meal, they contrived to make more crusts for a dessert. Bread puddings were simply leftover bread slices mixed together with sugar, eggs, and spices, almost no different from northern pan breads—which makes me wonder whether they did not get the idea from northern traders and get it wrong—and then, when the dish began to travel southward, all manner of things were added: custard, cream, nuts, vanilla, caramel, etc., everything depending upon the region and whether certain ingredients could be easily got. I hear the dish is now sold in prominent eateries across the continents. The idea of something so humble being sold to those who claim to have refined palates is certainly amusing. Who ever could have guessed that a dish created by the impoverished now graces the plates of those who put them in such a situation.”

Milis Maremeadow on Varrallan Bread and Butter Pudding: “Some folk say our bread and butter puddin’ was first made in town, brought to us by Marridon traders who were tryna get rid o’ the dish by bringin’ here. Got no reckonnin’ as to whether that’s true, so we just say whatever gets brought here gets improved. That’s why we took bread puddin’ and melted butter all over it. There isn’t much that’s not improved by a bit o’ butter, whether yer eatin’ the stuff or bathin’ in it. Sure, there’s a lotta Marridon fare what wended its way onto our tables, but we don’t let it in the door without dressin’ it up a bit first. Folk on the farms, especially here in the midlands, love our bakes, and thissun here’s no different. I heard the original recipe called for marrow instead o’ butter—dunno why. Marridon nonsense, as I ever heard—but our minin’ folk got plenty o’ butter steeped into ‘em, and it’s ‘em what brought the idea of bakin’ the puddin’ in a pool o’ butter in the first place.

This is whatcha need, son: old loaf o’ bread, preferably a sweet bread with some cinnamon and what, then you need eggs, cream, lemon curd, orange blossom water, brandy, mace, ginger, nutmeg, and vanilla. Now, take yer bread and either crumble it or slice it into a pan, whichever is more suitable for the type of bread yer holdin’. Flatten it in the pan or pot, and then melt enough butter that will coat the bread and soak what’s at the bottom. Into the butter melt, put all the liquid ingredients, just a bit of each, along with the spices and mix ‘em well. Pour the mixture atop the bread, make sure that bread is soaked through, and then sprinkle some brown sugar—none o’ that white sugar guff, dya hear me?—some chopped walnuts, and some cinnamon, if you got any. Get yer oven at a nice high heat and bake the puddin’ fer about twenty minutes, or until the top’s got a good crunch on it. The butter and such at the bottom should be bubblin’ somethin’ fierce when you take it from the oven. Don’t bother cuttin’ it, ‘cause it won’t last long anyhow. Just let folk dig into it with their spoons and tell ‘em they didn’t take enough if there’s any left in the pan.