I suppose most people today buy their Christmas pudding from one or other of the all-encompassing supermarkets; they all get the same bland offering and have no idea of what a real Christmas pudding tastes like, the one enjoyed by the family of Bob Cratchitt, for instance.
My mum always made her own Christmas puddings and I've followed suit. I make them a batch at a time and keep them for years; the older they get, the better they become. This year, my pudding was 12 years old - really, it was made in March 2007. Almost religiously, I've kept it in storage, opening it up every year to add a little bit more brandy before putting it back into the dark recesses of a kitchen cupboard to rest and mature. 12 years of love and attention, 12 years of ageing, it's no different to the ageing of a valued whisky or brandy; it produces wonderful results.
My pudding was exceptional. Black as the Ace of Spades, rich, mouth wateringly beautiful and yet so light that I could have eaten bowlfuls more. It was the stuff of dreams, a nectar for the Gods themselves to enjoy.
Oh, how I feel for you poor people who have to endure the feebleness of a Tesco, Sainsbury's, Asda, Morrison's or even a Marks and Spencers' pudding; even those who may have partaken of a pudding from Harrods or Fortnums can have no idea of the glory of MY pudding. It was extraordinary, stupendous even.
My mum would be so proud !
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