Full English bread pudding

This is one of those prepare-ahead dishes that the Americans tend to call casseroles, or strata. But really, it's a bread and butter pudding, made savoury with a layer of all the delicious elements of a full English breakfast. For a brunch or special breakfast where you don't want to be jumping up and down frying eggs for 6 people, make it the night before and refrigerate it. We had it for dinner over a couple of evenings - reheating it didn't totally destroy it, although it was nicer fresh, of course.

It's pretty adaptable, and I have said that the black pudding is optional, but I thought it was the best bit. So maybe this should be the first, non-threatening introduction to black pudding for the squeamish? Anyway, it's delicious and actually demands making in advance, so it needs a bit of pre-planning but once it is in the fridge you can suit yourself when you bake it.

Full English Bread Pudding (serves 6-8 for brunch, 4-6 large appetites for supper)

500g stale bread (I used a poppyseed bloomer)
olive oil
1 medium onion, finely diced
450g pork sausages, removed from their casings and rolled into walnut-size balls
100g bacon, cut into small pieces
200g mushrooms, sliced
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 spring onions, sliced
1 big handful parsley, finely chopped
150g black pudding, crumbled (optional, but really good)
handful of cherry tomatoes, halved
4 eggs
800ml milk
150g grated cheese (something that melts well. I used gruyere)
Black pepper
Nutmeg (optional - but I am almost incapable of seeing cheese without reaching for nutmeg)

The first bit is the most difficult - figuring out how many slices you need to cut your bread into in order to make two layers of bread slices. That will determine how thickly you need to cut it. Slice the bread and set aside.

Saute the onion in the olive oil until translucent, then add the balls of sausage meat and brown well. Add the bacon, mushrooms and garlic and saute for another few minutes or until the sausage balls are cooked through and the mushrooms have given off some of their liquid and reduced a bit. Stir in the spring onions and parsley, season with black pepper and allow to cool.

Place a layer of bread slices on the bottom of a deep-ish ovenproof dish (I used a pyrex lasagne dish). Spread the cooled mushroom and sausage mixture over the bread, then scatter with the black pudding and cherry tomatoes. Top with the second layer of bread.

Beat the eggs into the milk. If you have some on hand and you are making this for supper, you could add a slosh of vermouth at this point. It's a good addition but I didn't have any. Carefully (because it's going to want to skate off the top of the bread and make a mess) pour the eggy milk all over the bread. It should come up to the top of the sausage mixture.

Sprinkle with grated cheese, a grating more black pepper and a grating of nutmeg. Cover with clingfilm. Now, gently but firmly, press it down with both hands so that the top layer of bread gets pushed down into the custard mixture. Leave in the fridge for a bit - an hour, two hours, overnight, whatever suits you, but it does need a little rest to allow the custard to soak into the bread.

When you are ready to cook it, remove the cling film and bake it at 180 for 45 minutes or until it looks bubbly, golden and set. Serve hot.

Boxty - hangover breakfast of champions

One of the things about not being totally on-board with the whole Jubilee business is that I haven't overindulged quite so much as some. But if I had, these delicious Irish potato pancakes (served with bacon, black pudding and tomatoes) would definitely be my restorative breakfast of choice. They are made with a combination of raw (grated) and cooked (mashed) potatoes, bound with a bit of flour and lightened with a smidge of baking powder. I used this recipe, although I used plain yoghurt instead of buttermilk. And I made them much thicker than they should have been, so I did struggle a little to cook them through. 

The leftovers, warmed through in the oven, were fantastic later in the day with some cheese.

Only just realised how utterly filthy the stove is in this picture. Sorry!

Black pudding tour of Britain

OK, so I didn't actually take any pictures of black pudding while we were away, so here is an atmospheric, Lord of the Rings-y oak tree - the most British of trees - to illustrate my thoughts on the most British of smallgoods.

For a more technical look at black pudding (and some good-looking recipes), head over to the Big Black Pudding - a blog which is not about black pudding normally, but conveniently has a 10 page guide.

Having just spent some time travelling around Britain, I sampled quite a lot of black pudding. It was on the menu for breakfast in all of the places we stayed, and I had a taste of all of them. Now, the black puddings I tried may not actually have been representative of their regions, but they all called them "local" so I am taking them more or less as my benchmarks for each region.

Gwynedd, Wales: The black pudding was quite lightly seasoned and seemed to have quite a lot of rusk or filler in it. A mealier texture than I like, but still quite pleasant. The pork and leek sausage that also featured in my "Full Welsh" breakfast was excellent, so I am going to assume that this was also a premium product.

Cumbria, England: It was in Cumbria a couple of years ago that I had my first taste of black pudding, and realised that not all puddings are created equal. This was quite different to other black puddings I have had in the Lakes, less mealy, quite velvety, but with quite large pieces of pork fat in it. As the pudding had been very nicely cooked, the fat had crisped up and was more delicious than you would think, but I think it'd be quite greasy and unpleasant if it weren't really crispy.

Perthshire, Scotland: My preferred black pudding is Scottish, so I had quite high hopes for this one. And they were very nearly met. The pudding had a lovely, velvety, close texture, not too much other stuff breaking up the texture, and it grilled to a really good crispness. The only thing that made it not quite as good as the one I buy at Borough Market was the seasoning - not quite as much pepper as I like.

Wensleydale, England: The Wensleydale pudding served at breakfast in Yorkshire had a lot of barley in it, giving it a crumblier texture. It was well-seasoned and a very good breakfast black pudding, although I wouldn't want to try any of the more refined dishes (with scallops or apple) using it.

In short - I like black pudding. But I would really like to source the smoked black pudding one of my local pubs serves - Hertfordshire smoked black pudding would definitely beat all the variations I tried last week!

Not a triumph

If you use "scallops and black pudding" as your search terms, you will discover that matching the plump, delicate seafood with the richly spiced pudding is a pretty common thing to do - although the Riverford Organic Farmshop (not, I would have thought, on the cutting edge) thinks it is passe.

So for dinner tonight I dressed a pile of baby spinach leaves with a mustardy dressing, fried black pudding until crispy, apple slices until golden and tender and big fat scallops until nicely browned and put it all together on a plate. And you know what? Won't be doing that again. The black pudding and apple slices together were very good, but the scallops and black pudding had nothing to say to each other. Still, the picture turned out nice.

Full English

This week the Times decided to get all silly and try to provoke controversy by publishing a debate on the Full English breakfast. Now, I love Giles Coren; I read his reviews with eagerness every weekend and take heed of his opinions. But he has Gone Too Far in denouncing the Full English Breakfast.

It isn't something for every day. In fact, I don't think it is something for every weekend, but it is a lovely occasional treat. I think the one I have just finished eating was an excellent example of the genre, too.

The thing that looks like a hockey puck is, of course, lovely Scottish black pudding, fried until crunchy on the outside and meltingly tender in the middle. Outdoor-reared, dry-cured smoked bacon. A fried tomato (only a tiny half - I thought I had more than that in the fridge). Heinz baked beans (warmed through with a shake of Tabasco). Fried eggs - sunny-side down for my husband, sunny-side up for me. Perfect.

I'd normally do some fried mushrooms as well, but somehow we have run out. We never have toast/fried bread/saute potatoes with it when we have it at home, because with all the rest on the plate you just don't need it, and there is no one to care if you lick your plate to get the last bit of eggy baked bean sauce.