By James V. Ruocco
Once upon a time, way back when, I decided to throw a 19th century English Christmas party for my family and close friends at my home using customs, traditions and rituals that were practiced during the reign of Queen Victoria and presented very persuasively in the celebrated works of Charles Dickens, a writer who absolutely loved everything about the holidays from roast goose with sage and onion stuffing and parlour games to present-filled stockings and homemade gifts piled high under the candle-lit Christmas tree.
We did it all.
Christmas Crackers.
Christmas Bells.
Christmas Carols.
The Nativity.
The Story of Father Christmas.
Pass the Orange.
The Vicar's Cat.
A Christmas Memory.
Candles. Oil Lamps.
No electricity whatsoever with "time out" intervals strategically placed and reserved for warm drinks, baked gourmet delights and lastly, the pre-cooked, main dinner menu.
Dessert, of course, was none other than a fruit-filled plum pudding that I would replicate, using a tasty 19th century recipe solidified during the Victorian era that remains a fixture of English Christmas traditions to this very day.
The ingredients:
Candied orange peel, brown sugar, caster sugar, flour, eggs, cloves, nutmeg, allspice, raisins, cinnamon, butter, suet and black and red currants.
Sounds like fun.
Well, it wasn't.
But I persevered.
Trying to find the ingredients was a nightmare.
Most stores didn't carry caster sugar.
Red and black currants took forever to find.
Suet?
What the hell was that?
I lost track of how many times I had to explain it to shop owners, but eventually, one of the stores, actually carried it along with the caster sugar.
With the ingredients in tow, I came home, laid everything out on the kitchen table and grabbed by grandmother Anna's treasured mixing bowl and started to prep the plum pudding carefully following the 19th century recipe, word for word, step by step including taste tests and the addition of required alcohol content, when necessary.
It tasted good.
It smelled good.
The liquor was "spot on."
Yes, this was my very first time making plum pudding.
A lot of effort and love went into the preparation.
The dessert itself was destined to be a hit.
So, what could possibly go wrong?
Everything.
The stove was ready.
It was electric - not gas - which did not bode well when I placed the ingredients inside a muslin cloth and tossed everything into a pot of boiling water.
The water kept boiling over.
Raisins, orange peel and currants popped out over the place.
The suet created a big mess.
And hour by hour, things just kept getting worse.
"I've got to see this through," I cried. "But I need help. Fast. Now. Immediately."
I quickly placed a call to my uncle Tom and my aunt Mildred and told them what had happened.
"You never should have made this," my aunt explained. "It's too complicated and messy."
"I agree," added my uncle. "So, here's what we're going to do. Grab the pan and the ingredients. Let things cool. Come over to our house. We have a gas stove. So maybe, we can fix this."
Twenty minutes later, I arrived at their house.
The pot was placed on their gas stove. They each took turns checking to see if everything was boiling properly. They did a couple of taste tests. Then, once everything was finished, they turned off the gas and let the dessert sit cooling in the muslin cloth.
"You're really going to serve this to people," my aunt questioned. "Or should I throw it in the garbage."
"No," cried my uncle. "How bad could it be?"
An hour later, they took everything out of the pan, transferred it to a mixing bowl, then stored it in the refrigerator.
"Good luck with this," my aunt announced. "I have my doubts, but you never know."
The next day, the party began.
Everyone loved the 19th century English Christmas theme and had lots of fun drinking, eating, telling stories, opening presents and playing parlour games.
They also were anxiously awaiting the plum pudding which was going to be the main dessert served.
Stepping into the kitchen, I started spooning the plum pudding on small dessert plates. Originally, it was to be served in slices, but the mixture itself didn't exactly gel together property so this was the only way to dish it out.
My neighbor Randy came into the kitchen and when he saw the plum pudding on the plates, he remarked, "How come you're serving dog food to your guests."
"Dog food," I cried. "You can't be serious."
"Sorry, but this looks like dog food," he said laughing loudly. "But I know you worked hard on it, so let me have a quick taste of it."
After sampling it, he shook his head and said, "I was right. It's dog food on the menu."
Nonetheless, the plum pudding made its way to the party.
My best friend Marianne decided to take the plunge, despite Randy's "dog food" remark. "I could only take one bite," she recalled. "That was it. It was awful."
"Jimmy, you made this?" asked my aunt Liz. "It's not very good. Do you have any ice cream or pie?"
I did and everyone was happy with the quick change of dessert menu.
Looking back, that was the first and only time I ever made traditional English plum pudding.
Never again.
Book closed.
Story ended.
And if and when I want to serve or enjoy plum pudding on my own or with family and friends, I order it online or visit one of the many shops that carry it during the Christmas holidays.
