Category Archives: history

Scones: A Brief History

A couple of posts ago I gave you my recipe for scones. As with many foods, there is a variety of baked things that are called scones, which can cause a certain amount of confusion (see also: pudding[1], bun and cake[2]). My recipe is for what I think most people would consider a ‘proper’ scone: cakey, slightly dry and crumbly and therefore served spread with lashings of jam and butter or clotted cream. In other words, the scone one receives when ordering a cream tea. Despite its modern link with Devon and Cornwall, the scone most certainly originated in Scotland. These scones were baked not in ovens but on girdles/griddles or bakstones/bakestones, and there are two main types: those made from a runny batter and baked on a lightly greased griddle, often called drop scones today, or ‘Scotch’ pancakes outside of Scotland.[3] The second type is more cakelike; a dough that may be shaped into one large round and baked whole as a bannock, or cut into triangles as scones. The scones may also have been made by rolling out the dough and cutting out rounds. However they were shaped, these scones were cooked on a lightly-floured girdle.[4]

For more about the history of bakestones and griddlecakes see my book Knead to Know: A History of Baking, published by Icon Books.

Wheaten bread may have been used in both types of scone, but more often they were made from oats or barley and sometimes peasemeal in the very north of Scotland.[5] For delicious potato scones, some of the wheat flour is replaced with leftover mashed potatoes. Scones are typically chemically raised with bicarbonate of soda activated usually with soured buttermilk, but seeing as the word scone goes as far back as the early 16th century, this cannot have always been so; chemical raising agents were not widely available until the latter half of the 18th century. I do see recipes that use yeast and others with no leavening at all. I strongly suspect that the early scones would have been made with sourdoughs.

This is a sowans scone – made with the sour liquid poured off from fermenting sowans instead of the usual cultured buttermilk

Recipes begin to travel south and cross the border. Jane Grigson mentions a Northumbrian scone that is made with wholewheat flour and is leavened by yeast.[6] F. Marion McNeill, writing in the 1920s observes that ‘scones [are] popular in England now, but there are no recipes in Beeton’s book’, meaning – of course – the fantastically comprehensive Beeton’s Book of Household Management of 1861.[7] There are several recipes for scones in Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery (1883) and Robert Wells’ Pastry & Confectioners’ Guide (1892).[8] Interestingly, none of them are baked in ovens despite many homes having ovens by this point in history.

However, in Good Things in England (1932), that wonderful collection of traditional English recipes by Florence White, there are recipes for scones baked both in ovens and on griddles. A variety of flours are being used too, including oatmeal and ‘Maize or Indian Meal’.[9] Baked scones – in England, at least – quickly take over and usurp not only the griddlecake variety of scones, but also the Devonshire/Cornish split in the cream tea.[10] But in the 21st century, these baked scones move even further away from their origins – egg is added for richness, milk is used over the now tricky to find buttermilk (in combination with baking powder).

For many folk, scones will be forever associated with the south-western peninsula of England, but it is important to remember, as Catherine Brown and Laura Mason put it in The Taste of Britain (1999): ‘Few English people would appreciate that [scones are] as Scottish as oatmeal porridge.’[11] I hope you appreciate it now!


If you like the blogs and podcast I produce and would to start a £3 monthly subscription, or would like to treat me to virtual coffee or pint: follow this link for more information. Thank you.


Notes:

[1] This is discussed at length in my book The Philosophy of Puddings (2024).

[2] These are discussed in my book Knead to Know: A History of Baking (2024).

[3] These griddlecakes are also the forerunner to the sublime fluffy American pancake

[4] Buttery, N. (2024). Knead to Know: A History of Baking. Icon Books; McNeill, F. M. (1968). The Scots Kitchen: Its Lore & Recipes (2nd ed.). Blackie & Son Limited.

[5] Buttery, N. (2018, April 17). Pease Pancakes. British Food: A History.

[6] Grigson, J. (1992). English Food (Third Edit). Penguin. I have – of course – cooked this recipe as part of my Neil Cooks Grigson project all the way back in 2008. I didn’t do a very good job of it and it requires a revisit. Read the original post here.

[7] McNeill (1968)

[8] Cassell. (1883). Cassell’s dictionary of cookery. Cassell, Petter, Galpin & Co.; Wells, R. (1892). The Pastry Cook & Confectioners’ Guide. Crosby Lockwood and Son.

[9] White, F. (1932). Good Things in England. Persephone.

[10] Buttery, N. (2019, October 19). Cornish Splits (& More on Cream Teas). British Food: A History.

[11] Mason, L., & Brown, C. (1999). The Taste of Britain. Harper Press.

3 Comments

Filed under baking, Britain, cake, cooking, food, General, history, Scotland, Uncategorized

‘Knead to Know: A History of Baking’ talk now on YouTube

Hello everyone. I do hope your Bank Holiday Weekend is going swimmingly and that you are enjoying the sunshine (& showers!).

I have uploaded my ‘Knead to Know’ Zoom talk from September last year to my YouTube channel. I know there were several people who couldn’t make it on the night. It’s completely unedited except for the Q&A section at the end.

I talked about how I approached writing Knead to Know: A History of Baking by asking myself, “What is baking?”, a trickier and more philosophical question than you might think; the origins and history of the very first bakers; Early Medieval bread and bakers; Yorkshire Christmas Pyes; and the Denby Dale Pie.

I’ll be adding more content to my channel throughout the year, so please give it a follow if you are a YouTube user: click here to view and follow the channel.

Knead to Know: A History of Baking is published by Icon Books and is available from all good bookshops.


If you like the blogs and podcast I produce and would to start a £3 monthly subscription, or would like to treat me to virtual coffee or pint: follow this link for more information. Thank you.


Leave a comment

Filed under baking, Books, bread, cooking, food, General, history, Teatime

‘Monsters & Their Meals’ event with Alessandra Pino now on YouTube

Last Hallowe’en I hosted an online event with food historian and expert in Gothic food Alessandra Pino called Monsters and Their Meals. The discussion focused upon the function of food and drink in Gothic stories, Dracula and Frankenstein, stories that contain two of horror’s most iconic monsters. We also talked about the more subtle monsters and the food in Jane Eyre and Rebecca. To top everything off, we talked about some real-life grotesque foods from history that are stranger than fiction. I’ve just uploaded it to my YouTube channel for your viewing pleasure.

I hope you enjoy it. We hope to host another event this Hallowe’en, so watch this space for announcements. In the meantime, give the channel a follow, I’ll be adding more videos over the coming months.


If you like the blogs and podcast I produce and would to start a £3 monthly subscription, or would like to treat me to virtual coffee or pint: follow this link for more information. Thank you.


1 Comment

Filed under events, General, history

Yorkshire Teacakes

A hospitable Yorkshire housewife would consider her tea table was barely spread if it were not liberally supplied with these delicious cakes, constant relays of which should be served steaming hot.

Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery (1883)[1]

A split and toasted fruit teacake, liberally spread with melting salted butter is one of life’s simple pleasures. For those of you who are not already in the know, a Yorkshire teacake is a round, slightly flattened, enriched, soft breadcake usually containing a little sugar, spice, dried fruit, and candied peel. There was a time when England had scores of regional fruited or enriched bread cakes and loaves, but they have largely gone by the wayside. Others that spring to mind are Bath buns, Wiltshire lardy cakes and Lincolnshire plum bread.[2] These types of cakes and breads are much more appreciated in Wales, Scotland and Ireland, or so it seems. The Yorkshire teacake has escaped its regional roots, so much so that it has lost its Yorkshire identifier and is simply called a teacake by most people.

Just-baked teacakes with plenty of salted butter

Yorkshire teacakes can be traced back to the opening decades of the 18th century when they were called ‘Yorkshire Cakes’. They will have been very expensive because they are enriched with eggs, butter, milk, and plenty of sugar and dried fruits.[3] By the 1880s, they are called Yorkshire teacakes.[4]

Working-class families enjoyed them too, but there was invariably less fruit, just a touch of sugar, half-and-half milk and water, no eggs and lard instead of butter. I like this more austere version, though I do go will all milk (full fat, of course) and much prefer lard to often over rich butter. Looking through recipes, the amount of lard varies greatly from a knob to over five ounces per pound of flour.

It’s very important that the teacakes are nice and soft. To achieve this, heed this excellent advice from Florence White:

Immediately after taking from the oven, rub over with buttered paper, and cover with a light, clean blanket; this gives a soft skin.[5]

When they are freshly baked they are lovely eaten untoasted, but any older than that and they must be split and toasted (or if you want to go hardcore Yorkshire, strong Cheddar cheese[6]).

It occurred to me that I hadn’t baked a batch of teacakes for a good few years, and I was thereafter craving them, so I baked a batch. They are so worth making at home and I give you my recipe, should you fancy having a go yourself.


If you like the blogs and podcast I produce and would to start a £3 monthly subscription, or would like to treat me to virtual coffee or pint: follow this link for more information. Thank you.


Recipe

This is quite a sticky dough and I would recommend making this in a stand mixer with a dough hook, but they can be made without one; just be prepared to be very sticky in the first 10 minutes of kneading. If you prefer plain teacakes, omit the fruit and spice and add half the sugar.

Makes 8 teacakes:

500 g strong plain flour, plus extra for kneading and shaping

30 g caster sugar

1 tsp salt

1 tsp instant yeast

½ tsp mixed spice or ½ a grated nutmeg

80 g softened lard or butter, or a mixture

300 ml warm milk or half-and-half milk and water

Around 2 tbs vegetable or sunflower oil

80 g mixed dried fruit

30 g candied peel (optional)

Extra milk for brushing

Add the flour, sugar, salt, yeast and spices to a mixing bowl, make a well in the centre and add the softened fat, then tip in the warm liquid. Using a kneading hook, mix the ingredients on a slow speed until everything has combined, then turn up the speed a notch or two and knead for about 10 minutes until smooth – it won’t be very elastic because of the lashings of lard.

If you want to do this by hand, mix the ingredients with a wooden spoon. When thoroughly mixed, leave it to stand for 15 minutes or so; this gives the flour to absorb some of the liquid making for easier hand kneading. Knead on a lightly floured surface for around 15 minutes.

Brush a clean mixing bowl with the vegetable oil, gather up the floppy dough as best as you can (oil your hands, it makes this bit much easier), tuck it into a ball and pop it in the oiled bowl. Cover with a tea towel or cling film until it has doubled in size. This will take a while; even sat close to the radiator, my dough took over two hours.

Now take two baking sheets and line them with greaseproof paper and set aside.

Tip the dough onto a floured worktop and press out into a square, add the fruit and knead it into the dough. You do this step in the oiled bowl if you like. When everything is reasonably equally distributed, cut the dough into 8 equal-sized pieces. Using just a very little flour roll the pieces of dough into tight balls, then roll them out into circles with a floured rolling pin so they are 4 to 5 cm thick. Sit them on your baking sheets as you make them.

When you’ve done all 8, cover them with tea towels or place a container over them so they can prove again. In my experience the second proving takes about half the time of the first. As they prove turn your oven to 200°C fan (or equivalent). If you have a steam setting on your oven, use it. If you don’t, place a roasting tin in the bottom of the oven to heat up, and when you put your teacakes in the oven, tip some water into the now very hot tin and close the door.

When they have doubled in size, brush them with milk and pop them in the oven. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes until golden brown. Test whether they are ready by tapping the base of one: it should sound hollow.

Remove the teacakes from the oven and immediately throw a double layer of tea towels over them to keep them soft as they cool.


Notes:

[1] Cassell (1883) Cassell’s dictionary of cookery. Cassell, Petter, Galpin & Co.

[2] Check out Elizabeth David’s classic English Bread and Yeast Cookery (1977) for several other examples.

[3] David, E. (1977) English Bread and Yeast Cookery. Grub Street; Mason, L. and Brown, C. (1999) The Taste of Britain. Devon: Harper Press.

[4] Cassell (1883)

[5] White, F. (1932) Good Things in England. Persephone.

[6] Brears, P. (2014) Traditional Food in Yorkshire. Prospect Books.

2 Comments

Filed under baking, bread, Britain, food, General, history, Recipes, Uncategorized

Season B of ‘A is for Apple’ has begun!

Hello everyone, hope your February isn’t looking too gloomy. Here’s something to cheer you up: news that season B of A is for Apple: An Encyclopaedia of Food & Drink has kicked off.

For those not in the know A is for Apple is a podcast hosted by Sam Bilton, Alessandra Pino and me. Each season we take a letter and focus on it; last time we did A, so now we are doing B. We all present a very short piece about our chosen topic and then discuss it. There’s usually a theme to the episode, but Sam (who was the head host in episode 1) was kind and gave us a free choice. I chose berries, Sam chose the Banting diet, and Alessandra bananas. It’s available to listen to on all podcast apps, just search for “A is for Apple” and hit subscribe. If you’re not a podcasty person, here’s a Spotify inbed for you:

For my piece I interviewed Rachel Webster, Curator of Plants at Manchester Museum, and quickly following episode 1 was the uncut interview talking about berries, flowers and fruits – and comes with some gob-smacking facts! Listen here:

You can also follow the podcast on Substack for free: click this link to check it out. There are bonus recipes and other bits and bobs to be found there.

Next episode Alessandra is in the driving seat and she gave us a theme: Places. What places beginning with B would you choose!?

Leave a comment

Filed under cooking, food, General, history, Podcast, Uncategorized

Irish Coffee

Merry Christmas everyone! It’s time for my annual Christmas boozy drink recipe, and this year I’m going with a classic Irish coffee. Many have been made and drunk in the Buttery household over the last couple of weeks: all in the name of research, you understand.

The Irish coffee was invented soon after the end of World War Two in 1945; transatlantic flights had just recommenced and there were flights from the US full of visiting dignitaries landing at Shannon airport. Chef Joe Sheridan was tasked with making a special drink for the travellers that was comforting and evocative of Ireland’s warm hospitality. He came up with a ‘Gaelic coffee’, a mixture of whiskey, brown sugar cubes, hot coffee and cream. It was a great success and was given to all travellers landing at Shannon Airport thereafter.[1]

In the 1950s, the drink, now called Irish coffee, was taken to the USA where it was made bigger and sweeter, and sugar syrup replaced sugar cubes.[2]

From a personal point of view, I have great memories of going to a lovely little Indian restaurant with my parents in Pudsey, West Yorkshire in my late teens. We always ended our meal with one of their delicious Irish coffees. It didn’t occur to any of us to ask why an Indian restaurant in Yorkshire was serving Irish coffee.

This recipe is based on the one provided by Matthew Roberston in the excellent Cocktail Bible.[3] (Robertson, 2018) It’s made extra special with the inclusion of a dash of coffee liqueur and a sweetening of vanilla syrup, though you could just use regular sugar syrup and miss out the liqueur. I think one shot of syrup is too much, though not everyone in the family agreed with me on that one, so add to taste.

Merry Christmas everyone!

If you like the blogs and podcast I produce and would to start a £3 monthly subscription, or would like to treat me to virtual coffee or pint: follow this link for more information. Thank you.


Per person:

1 ¾ shots Irish whiskey

2 shots espresso, or very strong coffee

½ shot coffee liqueur such as Kalua

½ to 1 shot vanilla or sugar syrup

2 good tablespoons of lightly whipped double cream

Warm all of the ingredients, except the cream, in a saucepan until they just begin to simmer—don’t boil it hard, as you’ll lose much of the alcohol!

Pour into a small glass such as a rocks glass and spoon over the floppily-whipped cream; as it melts it will form a delicious layer of cream.


Notes:

[1] MacMahon, J. (2024) An Irish Food Story: 100 Foods That Made Us. Nine Bean Rows; Wondrich, D. and Rothbaum, D. (eds) (2021) The Oxford Companion to Spirits and Cocktails. Oxford University Press.

[2] Wondrich and Rothbaum (2021)

[3] Robertson, M. (2018) The Cocktail Bible. Hamlyn.

1 Comment

Filed under history, Recipes

Roast Turkey and Giblet Gravy

A very bronzed roast Copas turkey: butter is the only way to get this deep, delicious colour.

This blog post complements the recent episode of The British Food History Podcast called Turkey with Tom Copas.

If you feel inspired to order a Copas turkey, you need to get your order in by 16 December to avoid disappointment.

In the episode, we discussed the best way to roast turkey and we concluded that as long as you baste the bird and calculate the cooking time properly, it will be delicious. Tom even says that there’s no need to cover the turkey with bacon. While I agree with him, I do like the crispy bacon and the delicious, perfectly seasoned juices that come from the roasting turkey. My way of roasting turkey is very similar to how I cook a chicken.

What we didn’t discuss is the giblets! Please don’t waste them, they can be turned into lovely rich gravy when combined with the roasting juices. It’s important to get the giblet stock on about 45 minutes before the turkey goes in the oven (or you could prepare it in advance).

If you want to stuff the turkey, I suggest you stuff the neck only because an empty cavity means quicker cooking and a more succulent turkey.

Right, let’s get to it.


If you like the blogs and podcast I produce and would to start a £3 monthly subscription, or would like to treat me to virtual coffee or pint: follow this link for more information. Thank you.


To Roast a Turkey

You don’t have to use bacon if you don’t want to, but butter is essential. It adds richness, helps the bird keep moist and gives the skin a lovely deep brown colour.

1 free-range turkey

250 g salted butter, softened

Freshly ground black pepper

Around 14 rashers of dry-cured streaky bacon (optional)

Stuffing (optional)

Halved or quartered carrots and parsnips (optional; see recipe)

As soon as you get up on Christmas morning, take the turkey out of the fridge, untruss it, and when it’s time to cook the turkey, preheat your oven to 190°C.

Sit the turkey on a board, legs facing towards you, then make a tear in the skin where the breast starts and lift the skin away from the breast. Don’t rush – you don’t want to tear the skin. Put half the butter between the skin and breast and massage it as far back as possible. If you are using stuffing, add this under the skin too and tuck the flap of neck skin underneath. If there’s not much neck skin, don’t worry, it can be secured with a skewer.

Smear the rest of the butter over the outside of the turkey and season with plenty of black pepper, then lay the bacon over, overlapping each rasher only slightly.

Weigh the prepared turkey and calculate the cooking time: 30 minutes per kilo. A 4.5 kilo turkey will take 2 ½ hours. If cooking for more than 3 hours, cover the legs with foil.

Sit the turkey in its roasting tin, place it in the oven, and leave it for a good 45 minutes before doing anything at all. At the 45-minute mark baste the turkey with any juices; make sure to tip any juices in the cavity into the roasting tin.

Baste every 20 minutes or so. When the bacon is very crispy, remove it and set aside.

If you like you can add some carrots and parsnips, peeled and halved or quartered to braise in the juices. It’s best to do this when there are 90 minutes to go – don’t forget to turn the veg over each time you braise.

90 minutes to go, the bacon has been removed and the vegetables added to braise

When the time is up, you can test with a digital probe: 68°C is the temperature you are looking for. Take the turkey, place it on a carving board and cover with foil. It will happily rest for one to two hours.

When it’s time to carve, remove the legs and separate them into thighs and drumsticks. For the breast, I find the easiest way is to remove one side completely and then slice it thickly. These can be arranged on a warm serving plate, surrounded by the crisp bacon. Only cut into the second breast if the first one goes (it keeps better that way for leftover feasts).

I massaged the stuffing quite far into the turkey’s breast skin, protecting the meat and keeping it juicy

To Make Giblet Gravy

Don’t waste or fear the giblets! The giblets are the heart, neck, gizzard and liver.[1] Use your vegetable trimmings from the veg to make the stock: though avoid brassicas like sprouts.

For the stock:

Heart, gizzard and neck

A knob of butter

Leek greens, carrot peelings, and some celery trimmings, or 2 outer stems of celery

2 cloves of garlic, lightly crushed

Herbs: bay leaves, parsley stalks, rosemary or thyme sprig tied with string

175 ml white wine

Cold water

For the gravy

Giblet stock

Pan of turkey juices

1 tbs cornflour

To make the stock, first cut up the giblets into quarters.

In a saucepan, heat the butter until foaming, add the giblets and fry over a medium-high heat until brown – about 5 minutes. Now add the vegetable trimmings, garlic and herbs and wilt them. Cook until they have picked up a tinge of brown, then add the wine. Stir and scrape any nice burnt bits from the bottom. Add water to just cover the contents, put a lid on and bring to a simmer and cook for around 3 hours, then strain through a sieve into a clean pan (or into a tub if you’re making it in advance).

When it’s time to make the gravy, get the stock nice and hot. When the turkey is cooked and is resting on its board, pour the hot stock into the roasting tin and scrape off all the nice treacly burnt bits, then tip the whole thing back into your saucepan. Skim away most of the buttery juices.[2] Bring to a simmer and then add the cornflour which has been first slaked in a little cold water. Stir and simmer unlidded for 10 minutes.

Check the seasoning, though usually I find that the bacon and the salted butter from roasting the turkey have done it for me. Pour the gravy into a jug. You can pass it through a sieve, but I never do. Easy!


[1] Use the liver for the stuffing, or fry it and eat it on toast. You could devil it – recipe for devilling livers can be found here.

[2] But don’t throw the fat away, it can be used for frying vegetables for sauces or soup.

6 Comments

Filed under Britain, Christmas, cooking, Festivals, food, General, history, Meat, Recipes

To make a Bakewell pudding

I was at the Foyles Winter Evening on the 28th of November promoting The Philosophy of Puddings. It was at their flagship Charing Cross Road store, adjacent to Soho, and it was all very exciting. To draw folk in, I brought two puddings from opposite ends of the pudding spectrum: a nice, but very sweet, Bakewell pudding and a very savoury black pudding. I’m sure you can guess which was the most popular (by the way, tune into this podcast episode to hear about my gaff involving Rick Astley and the black pudding).

I promised I would post the recipe for a Bakewell pudding because it went down so well at the event. A Bakewell pudding is different from a Bakewell tart: the pudding is made up of a puff pastry case, a layer of raspberry jam, and then a sweet mixture of melted butter, eggs, sugar, and ground almonds. It’s very sweet and seems to be derived from a tribe of puddings called transparent puddings.[1]

The recipe for Bakewell pudding is a closely-guarded secret held by the several bakeries in Bakewell who reckon they have the original recipe. I won’t go into the history of the pudding here, it can all be found in the Philosophy of Puddings and Knead to Know.[2] However, Sheila Hutchins provides a recipe in her excellent 1967 book English Recipes and Others which she obtained from ‘Mr Oulsnam, the cook at the Rutland Arms in Bakewell where the pudding was said to be invented’.[3] There are recipes too in Jane Grigson’s English Food (1992) and Regula Ysewijn’s Pride and Pudding (2015). The first recipe appears in Eliza Acton’s Modern Cookery for Private Families (1845), and it doesn’t have a crust, and is made with egg yolks, not whole eggs.[4]

One of several bakeries in Bakewell that reckon they have the true original Bakewell pudding recipe

All of the recipes vary slightly, but I have gone with something that resembles the modern version, though my filling has a higher proportion of ground almonds than the Rutland Arms recipe (but not too much because it begins to veer on Bakewell tart territory. I feel I have the balance just right, but you can be the judge of that.

By the way, the finished pudding isn’t a particularly beautiful-looking thing, it won’t come out of the oven looking like French patisserie, it’s wonky and slightly scruffy but very delicious; as a pudding should be.

Apologies for the lack of a photo of the interior! I was stressed on the night and forgot to take one, but here I am with the pudding in Foyles.


If you like the blogs and podcast I produce and would to start a £3 monthly subscription, or would like to treat me to virtual coffee or pint: follow this link for more information. Thank you.


Recipe

My recipe makes 1 x 23 cm/9 inch (approx.) pudding in a round tin with sloping sides. The great thing about puddings is that they are very forgiving, so if your tin has straight sides or fluted edges, or not exactly the right dimensions, don’t worry, it will be fine.

The pastry is not blind-baked first. To avoid the dreaded soggy bottom put a baking tray in the oven so it can get nice and hot. When the pudding is ready to bake, sit it on the very hot tray which will help crisp it up before it starts to turn soggy.

1 batch of Quick and Easy Puff Pastry

120 g butter

120 g caster sugar

80 g ground almonds

2 eggs

A few drops of almond essence

2 to 3 dessertspoons of raspberry jam

Preheat your oven to 220°C and place a baking tray on the centre shelf.

Begin by rolling out the pastry to the thickness of a pound coin (3 mm approximately). Allow to rest for a couple of minutes before lining the tin with the pastry. Make sure the pastry is tucked into the edges properly and that there are no air bubbles. Trim with a knife or rolling pin (whichever is most efficient – depends upon your tin!) and prick the pastry all over with a fork so that it doesn’t puff up too much in the oven.

Place the lined tin in the fridge so the butter can harden up. Meanwhile, make the filling: slowly melt the butter in a saucepan, as you wait, mix the sugar and ground almonds in a mixing bowl, then the eggs and almond essence. When the butter is just melted beat it into the mixture.

Take the lined tin out of the fridge and spread with the jam, leaving a gap all around the inside edge.

Spoon or pour the mixture, first around the inside edge and then the centre, smoothing over any gaps.

Place in the oven on the now very hot baking tray for 25 to 35 minutes, turning the temperature down to 180°C when the top reaches a nice, deep golden brown (it was around the 20-minute mark for me).

When the centre is set, remove it from the oven and allow it to cool on a wire rack.


[1] Buttery, N. The Philosophy of Puddings. (British Library Publishing, 2024).

[2] Being a baked pud, Bakewell pudding gets mentioned in both The Philosophy of Puddings and Knead to Know: a History of Baking (though different aspects are discussed).

[3] Hutchins, S. English Recipes, and Others from Scotland, Wales and Ireland as They Appeared in Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Cookery Books and Now Devised for Modern Use. (Cookery Book Club, 1967).

[4] Acton, E. Modern Cookery For Private Families. (Quadrille, 1845); Grigson, J. English Food. 3rd edition (Penguin, 1992); Ysewijn, R. Pride and Pudding: The History of British Puddings Savoury and Sweet. (Murdoch Books, 2015).

4 Comments

Filed under baking, Britain, cooking, food, General, history, Puddings, Recipes

Competition: Win a copy of my two new books!

It’s competition time!

Would you like to be in with a chance of winning a signed copy of both of my new books Knead to Know: A History of Baking and The Philosophy of Puddings? Well here is your chance.

It is very simple to enter: All you need to do is go to the foot of this post, “like” it and leave a comment declaring your favourite Christmastime dessert.

I will select one person at random on 2 December at 7pm GMT. That’s your deadline. Good luck!


If you like the blogs and podcast I produce and would to start a £3 monthly subscription, or would like to treat me to virtual coffee or pint: follow this link for more information. Thank you.


43 Comments

Filed under baking, Books, cake, cooking, Desserts, food, General, history, Puddings, Uncategorized

Two free talks this December (one online & one in person)

Hello there folks. A very quick post just to let you all know that I am giving two free talks this December.

The first is taking place at Manchester Central Library at 6pm on 5 December and is entitled The History of Pies & Puddings. Because it’s December I shall be looking at some festive examples but also a few other favourites. There will also be some of the library’s antiquarian cookery books to view as part of it. Book your spot here.

The second is a free Zoom talk on 17 December at 7pm (GMT) called The Philosophy of Puddings where I will look at the history of this very British food in the kitchen and in our culture. Will any of your favourites be mentioned? Book your spot here.

There are new events cropping up all of the time so make sure that you check the Upcoming Events tab regularly.

Looking forward to seeing some of you there!


If you like the blogs and podcast I produce and would to start a £3 monthly subscription, or would like to treat me to virtual coffee or pint: follow this link for more information. Thank you.


7 Comments

Filed under Books, Britain, cooking, events, food, General, history, Puddings, Teatime