11:30pm, Saturday 23rd November:So, yeah, hey everyone, I said I’d put this post up when I started the whole pudding thing, but I hadn’t counted on having lovely guests who’d make me drink a whole vat of wine.
Honestly, that’s what happened.
It’s Stir Up Sunday next week, the day that we’re all supposed to be making our Christmas Puddings. The problem is, though, that if I spend the day making the pudding and then another day or so to write it up, you’d have missed Stir Up Sunday and the ‘proper’ day to make your pudding if you were waiting for my instructions. And if I were to do it before then, then I wouldn’t be doing it on the proper day. Tricky, eh?
Are you the sort of person who:
- Closed the cover on Little House on the Prarie thinking ‘there’s just not enough of that old-timey drudgery around these days?
- Finished your Christmas shopping in March, finished your gloating about having finished your Christmas shopping in September, has untangled the fairy lights twice and then tangled them again for fun in the last week and now feels the days are empty before the big day itself?
- Doesn’t mind committing about 3 hours to a recipe without having the first idea how the end product – which you now have enough to feed the street with – will taste?
- Has an open-minded attitude towards possible poisoning and accidental ingestion of hallucinogens?
Of course you are, right? Then have I ever got the recipe for you.
Parkin, then. We’ve established that it’s eaten in the North, around the time of Bonfire Night, that there are cross-Pennine rivalries to deal with, and that it is a type of gingerbread, usually containing treacle, mostly containing oats, and that it is Serious Business. We also learnt that everybody should make parkin because it is easy, and it tastes good.
I have a lovely recipe to recommend to you today; it tastes good, it’s very easy to prepare and it has an honest Lancastrian pedigree from my own family. So why am I grinding my teeth like this? Read on.