Now Bring Us Some Figgy Pudding

Just finished watching Julie/Julia a few days ago, so perhaps that is why I was inspired to blog about figgy pudding.

Yep, the self same figgy pudding in the carol. I kinda came to making figgy pudding for the first time this year through the back door. You see, my fig tree, which last year mostly fed the birds, decided to have some really serious plant sex this year. All that sex, all those little babies in the form of wonderful figs.

I guess the flavor of figs is an aquired taste. I only recently became a fig fan, mostly because of this darned fig tree with its profligate sex. Last year, I was waiting until they turned a sort of burgundy brown, which I THOUGHT was the signal the fruit was ready to eat. Wrong.

When they are burgundy brown, the figs are actually almost rotten and extremely mushy, which is the birds' idea of a Baskin-Robbins triple scoop with fudge sauce AND sprinkles.

This year, after discovering when figs are really ripe, I picked figs. And picked. And picked. And picked. I made gallons of fig jam, I made my version of fig newtons, I gave a local chef pounds of the fruits. I don't know what he did with them, but knowing his reputation, he probably made a luscious sauce for pork. Or a souffle. Or something.

So anyway, the fig tree was still producing. I think it must have continued to produce fruit for 3-4 weeks. Now, as I've said, I'm a fig fan, but this was really too much. Having been raised to NEVER waste ANYTHING, I started drying figs. I have a countertop dryer and for several weeks, the poor thing blew warm dry air on tons of figs.

It was at this point (yes, I'm kinda slow) that I realized I had no idea what to DO with dried figs. We're talking tens of pounds of fruit, even accounting for the dried fruit being lighter than the fleshy fruit. I'm a fig fan, but not THAT big a fan.

Suddenly, Julia Child popped into my head and started singing "Now bring us some figgy pudding" in that impossibly lyrical-yet-somewhat-annoying voice she had. Figgy Pudding. What in the heck is that???

I did what any early 21st century researcher would do. I Googled. (funny that this word has become a verb, what?) Google pointed me to literally HUNDREDS of recipes for figgy pudding. Who knew that figgy pudding was such a popular recipe, since everyone I know has said, "Figgy pudding? You're making figgy pudding...like in the song? What is it?"

I'm slow, as I've pointed out. I thought that if I found a recipe at all, it would be in some obscure Chaucerian-age book located in the Vatican archives. And yet, here were hundreds to choose from. So I started reading. And reading. And reading.

I found out that figgy pudding is a sort of cross between a bread pudding and a fruit cake. I finally settled on a recipe that was featured on a cooking show on NPR. These people, I thought, are esoteric enough to be experts on figgy pudding, but practical enough to have altered the recipe so that those of us who know our way around a kitchen could make it, despite not being professional figgy pudding bakers.

I misspoke. It turns out that figgy pudding isn't baked, at least the original wasn't (though some of my rejected recipes bake it). It's steamed. And here's the best part of all...YOU POUR BRANDY ON IT AND SET IT ON FIRE!!!! I have never in my life lit on fire (at least, on purpose) any of my culinary creations. I tend to be the type of cook who sticks with the hospital auxiliary published cookbooks which feature a lot of Jello and mayonaise in cakes and potluck casseroles in their selections. My favorite cookbook is a very dog-eared Better Homes and Gardens red-checked number (you no doubt have seen this cookbook on your grandmother's shelf).

So here I am, steaming a cake and lighting it on fire!!! I feel so adverturous and out there. So "outside the box" and avant garde. I have a notion of what it must taste like, from reading the ingredients. But I have no idea at this point if it will taste good. Maybe it will be one of those offerings to my family where they laboriously eat it, telling me it's the best thing they've ever had but no, they are too full for any more. When people ask for seconds of dessert, after a huge holiday meal, you know you've struck a chord. I have visions of this being a "no seconds for me" kind of dessert. Something you can say you've tried, but secretly think "so this is why no one makes figgy pudding any more."

One advantage to making figgy pudding, you can make it up to three weeks in advance and it keeps. Due to the ingredients, I imagine it's one of those dishes that improves with age.

So several mornings in advance of our Christmas dinner, I made a figgy pudding. All by myself. Another thing you should know about making figgy pudding is that it's one of those recipes that requires that you make this mixture and then that mixture and then fold them together and then you make two more mixtures and then fold these together and then...you get the idea. Many steps and every conceivable bowl and saucepan in the kitchen is dirtied in the construction.

The recipe calls for brandy. Lots of brandy. Which you use to reconstitute the dried figs and then light THAT on fire. So here I have this flaming saucepan in my kitchen while I'm attempting to make bread crumbs! I could scarcely take my eyes off the saucepan in flame.

I finally assembled all the parts and then assembled all of the assemblies and scraped the final mixture into a Bundt pan. I dragged out my water bath canner (the only container in my house that would accomodate the Bundt pan), filled it with water and gently lowered the cake into the water bath. The recipe instructs you to cover the cake pan with aluminum foil and cover the water bath with foil as well. Then you put the top on the water bath and wait.

Two hours. That's how long it takes to steam the figgy pudding. Due to all the foil and the scalding water, one cannot look at the pudding during cooking. I held my ear to the side of the water bath to insure that it was gently simmering, but other than that, I had to trust NPR that they know what they're doing. (That and the INCREDIBLE smell! It really smells good.)

I am now officially a figgy pudding maker. But what does it taste like, you may ask? Search me. I haven't yet served it, so I have no idea. Will update the blog when I know. I will also let you know if I burn the house down on Christmas in my flaming attempt to be "out there."

What else can I do with dried figs?

Post Script: The Figgy Pudding tasted really good, but I had left-overs...guess it's one of those, "No, no seconds for me" dishes.