Wednesday 30 December 2020

Impulse buys, plum puddings and other fine messes

As mentioned in my last post, I've spent a fair few hours and pounds trawling through the rabbit warren that is eBay, on the search for tin-related things - not just cookbooks and pamphlets, but all sorts of other random items which I really don't need, but being The Tin Cannoisseur, I feel compelled to buy. Hence the set of mugs bearing the label designs of Heinz' most popular tinned products (Tomato Soup, Spaghetti, Baked Beans), the Carnation Milk apron, and the Green Giant lapel pin. The Campbell's Soup facemask has at least proved a very useful purchase this year though.





Recently, I came across this original unopened tin of Heinz Christmas Plum Pudding, complete with key to open it. The seller thought it dated from the 1950s, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was older. I was very tempted to buy it, but a bidding war between other eBay users quickly pushed the price up beyond what I would consider spending on something that would just sit gathering dust and/or rust on the shelf, so I lost interest. Someone eventually paid an extraordinary £27 for it. I hope they weren't planning on eating it.


I guess it would have been just a standard Christmas pudding; whether or not it would have contained any plums, I can't say, as photos of the label on eBay didn't show the ingredients. But 'plum pudding' and 'figgy pudding' seem to be synonymous with Christmas pudding whatever the dried fruits it contains might actually be. It reminded me though that a couple of Christmases ago, I tried a plum 'pudding' of a different kind - suggested by Canned Foods UK no less, as their recipe of the month for that December - Spiced Plums on Toasted Brioche.



I used a tin of Plums in Light Syrup from Tesco - red plums, in fact, as described on the back of the label. I don't know if that is because the plums themselves were originally red, or if it is due to the added colouring (anthocyanins), but opening the tin, they were indeed quite red, inside and out, as was their syrup. The skins of the plums seemed to have peeled off in some places but not in others, giving them a slightly odd, rough look. It's quite easy to overcook a plum, so I was pleased to discover that while softened, these still had a bit of bite to them.




The recipe is super simple - drain the syrup from a tin of plums into a saucepan, add a tablespoon of muscovado sugar and 2 teaspoons of mixed spice, bring to the boil and then simmer to reduce down by half. Add the plums (halved and stones removed) and allow to cool. While the syrup had initially been quite light, reducing it down left it wonderfully thick and gloopy, and lent it an almost caramelised note which is lovely with the spice flavour.



Now, you could just spoon these plums and their delicious syrup straight onto your toasted slices of brioche, or individual brioche roll as I did (it still amuses me that Waitrose considers brioche an "essential" item) and very nice that would be. The recipe cranks it up a notch though, adding some more of the mixed spice into softened butter, spreading that onto the already very buttery brioche, and then adding the plums AND a dollop of thick cream on top. Despite its richness, to me brioche always seems best suited to breakfast, and this recipe would make for a brilliantly decadent breakfast or brunch, maybe even a good one for Christmas morning (because let's face it, if you're going to eat fruit on Christmas Day, it might as well be pimped up to the max). This recipe ticks all the boxes - it's fruity, and spicy; it's syrupy and buttery; it's soft and yet toasty - I highly recommend giving it a go.


With the remainder of the plum compote, I recreated a favourite dessert from my time in Austria - Kaiserschmarrn, which translates literally as "the Emperor's Mess". And it does, even when made well, look a bit of a mess, but go with it and you won't be disappointed. It reportedly takes its name from Kaiser Franz Joseph I of Austria-Hungary, who was very fond of the dish; various stories abound as to how he first came to try it, mostly along similar lines of a pancake being prepared badly, yet proving to be delicious nonetheless. Essentially, it is just a very thick pancake, usually with sultanas or raisins in it, which is torn into pieces when ready, sprinkled very liberally with icing sugar, and served with plum compote or jam. You can't really go too wrong with it. So, when you've already got a quantity of spiced plums, it would be foolish not to make it. It's what Franz Joseph would have wanted.




But let's return briefly to tinned puddings, where we started off. At what point Heinz stopped making Christmas puddings - plum, fig or otherwise - I am not sure. As this photo shows, they must have carried on making tinned puds of other kinds for quite some time - the Black Forest Sponge in particular from this selection sounds amazing. As for the Spotted Dick - no comment.


Sadly all these have now been discontinued - but a few years back I did manage to bag a tin of their Indulgent Chocolate Pudding (a chocolate sponge with Cadbury's Milk Chocolate sauce) before it was too late. I was quite excited.



After boiling it in the tin for 35 minutes, taking great pains to ensure the saucepan didn't boil dry and cause an explosion, I opened it up to reveal...a rather dry looking bottom. It then slumped on the plate when turned out, looking a bit of a mess (and not the Emperor's kind). But the top was certainly a lot moister thanks to the chocolate sauce. 






That was probably the best bit actually - lovely and rich and thick; there just wasn't anywhere near enough of it to seep through to the rest of the pud. As you got nearer the bottom, it dry as such, just somewhat claggy, so it really needed a dollop of cream to help it down. I also noted at the time that I thought it had "a vague pet-shop type smell to it". I have no idea what I meant by that. But by coincidence, I was trying this tin while staying at a friend's house to look after their cat while they were away on holiday - so maybe that's what I was smelling. You can just about make him out in the picture above, of the unopened tin. His name? Another coincidence - it was Tintin!

Of course, had I known that Heinz would be discontinuing all their tinned puddings, I might have held on to it - and flogged it on eBay in 50 years' time. Whatever old rubbish you're selling online, you can probably find some strange person to buy it - as sellers of mugs, aprons, lapel pins and facemasks  branded with tinned foods will no doubt testify.







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