The Christmas Special: Part Three

But the meal wasn't over there. I may have been quite full by that point, but there's always room for pudding after a big Christmas dinner. Unfortunately, despite much searching online, it appears that you can't buy Christmas pudding in a tin anymore, although such things did exist, as this amazing Heinz advert from 1917 for tinned Fig and Plum Puddings (and mincemeat) shows. It doesn't hold back at all on its ringing endorsement of the product:

"There is a new dessert among the 57 varieties - Heinz Fig Pudding. It is a treat. Figs, of course, with spices and flavourings, cooked to bring out a taste that will make your mouth water. We cannot tell you how good it is. You must try it."

If only I could - sadly these products, and such emphatic recommendations in advertising, are now confined to history.

An even older tinned Christmas pudding actually still exists, having originally been sent to the Naval Brigade in the Boer War, but it was never opened, and now forms part of the collection at the Historic Dockyards in Portsmouth - this article tells the full story.

But I digress - I wouldn't be finishing my Christmas dinner with a tinned figgy pudding. What about a pudding of tinned figs though? In one of his earlier cookbooks, the great Nigel Slater includes a recipe for figues flambées using tinned figs, which he says "come from a tin relatively unscathed", but also suggests that you "try not to think of fresh figs when you eat them". I had seen tinned figs recently in Waitrose, and the flambé element of the recipe sounded suitably festive, so it seemed like the perfect end to my Christmas meal.


My figs came in a rather fancy-looking tin, with a nice botanical illustration printed straight onto the metal itself, rather than a label. It's the sort of tin that would look quite nice on a kitchen window to grow herbs in. Perhaps I'll do that some time. The figs come from the Kalamata region of Greece, made by a company called Baldjis, who since 1910 have been producing olives, olive oil, artichokes and plums in tins and jars. Their website gives more company history, plus some interesting recipes and serving suggestions for both sweet and savoury dishes. Some of the translations have gone a little awry (a recipe for a fig marinade suggests that you "put inside the meat of your desire to be covered. Springle fresh pepper and leave in the fritz for at least 3-4h"), but it's worth a look, if you give a fig. Ho ho ho.

Nigel is right that these were nothing like eating delicious, ripe fresh figs, but the one I tried straight from the tin is juicy and tasty enough - more like a dried fig that has been allowed to plump back up to size with lots of sugary syrup.

His recipe is simple: you drain the figs of their syrup, slice them in half and place them cut-side down into a hot pan.

Allowing them to sizzle for a few minutes, you then pour over a small glass of Kirsch, a liqueur, or a mix of brandy and Grand Marnier. I only had brandy, and exceptionally cheap brandy at that, which I think was bought once for a party to add to sangria or a punch, and then forgotten about. So cheap, in fact, that it comes in a plastic bottle (oh, the shame...) It doesn't really matter though, as then comes the fun part:

"Strike a light, then set fire to the pan. But not the kitchen".



You then carefully turn the figs over in the alcohol with a fork, and pour in some single cream to douse the flames. I didn't have cream in a tin on this occasion, but I do have a tin of Nestle's Tip Top Dessert Topping - "a smooth pouring, creamy tasting topping that's great served on fruit, jelly, pies and your favourite puddings. It also gives coffee a really creamy taste. A lighter alternative to cream with less than half the fat." So if it's not cream, what is it? "Skimmed milk with vegetable fat", apparently. Sounds revolting, but never mind. In it went.

Allow to bubble for a few minutes, then serve.

I must say it did make for an enjoyable dessert - the figs were even nicer warm with their slightly caramelised edges. Not all the alcohol had burned off, giving a suitably Christmassy boozy taste to the sauce. The Tip Top topping perhaps wasn't the best choice though - it was creamy tasting, yes, but the vegetable fat leaves you with a somewhat oily feeling in the mouth, which isn't very nice. I tried some in my coffee afterwards, which had much the same effect, and produced a light sheen on the surface of the liquid too. But with real cream - and maybe some different alcohol too - this dessert could be a real winner.


I reunited the remaining figs with the syrup from the tin, and had them chilled from the fridge the next morning with some yoghurt, which was absolutely delicious. A sprinkle of brandy might not go amiss here either, because of course at Christmas, alcohol for breakfast is perfectly acceptable.

As for the leftovers from the main course, they made for a very serviceable bubble and squeak later that day, and a cracking sandwich the day after. Because let's face it, it doesn't matter whether your Christmas dinner is tinned or fresh - the leftovers are always the best bit.