This is a partly political blogpost...

Thinking it best to try to avoid politics on this blog, I hadn't intended to do a General Election-themed post. Well, I say that - I had considered trying a tin of "UKIPpers", but that seemed too spurious a link even by my standards, not to mention a woefully bad pun). I changed my mind however when I saw this article on the Guardian website on polling day, which suggests what each of the main party leaders might 'taste' like. If that sounds a little strange, it is - the article concerns a rare neurological condition known as lexical-gustatory synaesthesia, which causes people to be able to taste or smell words or sounds. One such synaesthete is James Wannerton from Blackpool, who for this article teamed up with artist Sam Cornwell to produce a series of photographs depicting the foods (and other substances) he claims to taste when he hears the names of the politicians.

To James, the very name 'David Cameron' creates the sensation, for some reason, of eating hard toffee, macaroons, cloth and blue ink; Ed Miliband tastes like vinegary chips, a school eraser and pine nuts; Nick Clegg like pickled onions, elastic bands, a meatless leg of lamb and a dribble of yoghurt; and Nigel Farage is an even more curious-sounding combination of rich fruit cake, the inside of a frankfurter sausage, fried onions, a few peas, a wet tweed jacket sleeve and a dollop of semolina.

To be honest, it was only because that last item is depicted in the photo as a tin of semolina pudding that I mentioned the article at all, as it reminded me that I had tried a tin of it some time ago, but had never got round to writing it up, as is so often the case.

Produced by Ambrosia, better known for their custards and rice puddings, the tin in question is one of the company's range of old-fashioned desserts, alongside macaroni and tapioca puddings, both of which are also in my stash of tins to be tried soon.

Semolina and tapioca certainly have a bit of a reputation as being the sort of things that used to get served up in school canteens as a pathetic excuses for desserts - joyless, sloppy messes that were difficult to stomach, let alone to like. But the fact that Ambrosia still make them suggest they must have their fans - would the versions prove to be forgotten gems?

Things didn't look particularly promising from the offset. Opening the tin, I was met by the sight of a layer of clear liquid above a yellowish solid mass.

With a gentle shake, it flobbed out of the tin into my saucepan in an intact cylinder, with the imprint of the ridges of the can still visible on its sides and bottom.

As it heated through, it slowly but surely began to melt down to the consistency of a sloppy porridge, with a wheaty, pasta-like smell, which seemed a bit weird at first but of course makes sense given that semolina is produced from durum wheat. (Technically speaking it is the "purified wheat middlings" of the cereal, according to Wikipedia, which also lists its use in a wide range of dishes from around the world, both savoury and sweet. Most of them sound rather more appetising than plain old English semolina pudding, but never mind).


In the mouth, Ambrosia's offering had a slightly grainy texture; sweet, but not cloyingly so, and with what I thought was a hint of a vanilla flavour, though none is listed in the ingredients, which almost gives it a white chocolatey taste. It's actually surprisingly nice, and has a comforting, nannying quality to it, common to many a milk-based dessert. Like rice pudding, I thought it would be very good with a spoonful of jam stirred through it, but sadly I had none to hand at the time.

While desserts like this may have been spoiled for some by bad versions served up in school canteens, these are really the foods of the nursery, so you can see why they still have great appeal, and hence why there would still be a market for convenient, instant versions in tins that do away with all the slow cooking and stirring.

Quite why James Wannerton gets the taste of semolina when he hears the name "Nigel Farage" I can't say, and perhaps nor can he. I doubt Nigel would have a clue either. I very much liked the pudding though, finding it pleasant-tasting, comforting and moreish - the complete opposite, in fact, of that odious little man who I was very glad to hear had not won the seat in Thanet South, and has now stepped down as leader of a party whose policies leave a very bitter taste in my mouth.