The Christmas Pudding Wish

As I placed the pudding on the plate ready to take it to the table and gathered up the brandy and the lighter, I wondered whether my children and grandchildren would experience the same delight that I did so many years ago. I can see it so clearly.

All the ingredients had been assembled on the old wooden kitchen table at my Gran’s house. The recipe for traditional English Christmas pudding calls for  

mixed dried fruit

mixed candied fruit peel

small apple, peeled, cored, and finely chopped

finely grated orange zest and freshly squeezed orange juice

finely grated lemon zest and freshly squeezed lemon juice

unsalted butter 

self-rising flour

ground cinnamon

ground mixed spice

 (nutmeg, allspice, ground mace, ground gloves, coriander, ginger)

beef or vegetarian shredded suet

dark brown sugar

fresh breadcrumbs

whole almonds, coarsely chopped

large eggs

And of course the brandy with the notation “more as needed”

The whole family gathered around while Mum and Gran carefully mixed all the ingredients. The big yellow bowl, which had seen many a Christmas pudding made before, was ready for the pudding mix. Once it was thoroughly mixed, it was then ready to go into the individual pudding dishes. But before that happened, we had to indulge in an old time tradition. Each person took the wooden spoon and very carefully turned the mixture and made a wish. I couldn’t wait for my turn. 

While I waited, I thought carefully about my wish. 

Should I wish for something for myself or was that being very selfish. I knew there were a lot of other children worse off than me and at my Mum’s encouragement, I had recently donated some of my old toys to the local Salvation Army. Maybe a wish for children to have lots of new toys instead of hand-me-downs.

I also knew some people didn’t have a lot of food which is why my Mum and Gran were making enough Christmas puddings for several families. Maybe a wish for families to have a turkey with all the trimmings.

Then I thought about orphans. I was sure they would have a jolly celebration at the orphanage, but it wouldn’t be the same as spending with a family. I had recently met a boy at church who I knew was an orphan. We had become quite good chums and he told me a lot about where he lived.  Dan had been there since he was 3 and was now 11, just a year older than myself. He didn’t remember his parents as he was just a survivor after a bomb had demolished a large area. He was found wandering around the streets with no i.d. on him and at that age, no knowledge of where he had been living. He knew his name but didn’t know his parents’ names. They were just Mam and Dad. This was a very common situation during the second world war and so many families and children totally misplaced. Maybe a wish for him that he will soon be adopted by a loving family.

Oh, what about the animals. All the abandoned kitties and puppies.  Not to mention the ponies, piggies, chickens and ducks. I had often thought how wonderful it would be to live on a farm. We could take in all the strays.  Every time I mentioned that to my Mum, she just laughed and told me that it would be a lot of work. I was thoroughly convinced I could manage to do it all. For now, maybe a wish for a puppy.

 So much to wish for and I was in a bit of a dither when my turn finally came. Carefully taking the spoon and slowly turning it around the bowl to give me as much time to make my wish, I silently whispered…

First, for myself I would like the lovely dolly in the blue dress which I saw at the village shop. She closes her eyes and says ‘mama’ when she’s laying down, and I hoped that other girls in the orphanage would get a dolly like her, and maybe Dan could come and stay with us over Christmas and have turkey with all the trimmings and if somehow we did get a puppy, we would take the puppy for walks and talk about when we would all live together on a farm looking after all the stray animals.

I was quite breathless thinking about all of this with just one turn of the spoon and I could see my Mum smiling. I’m sure she knew my wish would be long but I think she would be quite surprised at what I wanted.

With the pudding lovingly mixed with a variety of wishes enfolded in it and with nothing else to do, the men folk drifted away from the kitchen and headed into the lounge for a smoke and a tipple of Granddad’s home made parsnip wine, or maybe something stronger, leaving the women folk to complete the final process. 

The pudding mix went into prepared bowls and a layer of paper and a clean muslin cloth placed on top, then tied with string before placing into steamers. Steaming would take about 8 hours and then the puddings would be set aside for 4 weeks ready to be reheated on Christmas Day. 

While all the puddings were steaming away, Gran had a special treat for the kids and anyone who wanted to join in. It was pastry time. She had made a batch of pastry dough and armed with various rolling pins, cutters, etc., we could make whatever we wanted.  Ornaments for the tree, animal shapes, balls rolled into chocolate and sprinkles  I loved making mice. Rolling the pastry into a long round strip and then pinching to make the head, the ears and finally the tail. Raisins for the eyes and nose and left over thyme sprigs for whiskers.  The dough would get quite sticky with over-kneeding and rolling out so even after being baked, most of the creations were not edible. Decorated with ribbons they looked lovely on the tree and after Christmas they would be crumbled and placed into bird feeders.

So much preparation before actually tucking into the pud. But the wait was definitely worth it. Presenting the pud was as much a tradition as in the making. 

When the appointed time came, the pudding was carried in on a large platter and placed in front of my Granddad. Everyone would be silent and watched as he carefully took the brandy, which had been placed in a glass jug, and poured it liberally over the pudding. Then he quickly took a match and struck it on the matchbox and touched it to the top of the pud before the brandy fumes disappeared. Blue flames lit up all around and danced along the top and down the sides. He stood back quickly remarking as he did that he’d nearly singed his eyebrows one year. The whole event was so magical and everyone started to clap and cheer.

Next came the dolling out of the pudding served with a good dollop of home made custard. I remember seeing the brandy left over from the lighting being handed around the grown ups. Once we all had been served, we were given the green light by Gran to tuck in. Our spoons were digging in and around the pudding in search of something special. A silver sixpence.  Several had been put into the pudding before steaming and if you found one, it was supposed to bring good luck. The lucky persons would then be encouraged to sing a good rendering of the ‘sixpence’ song and before long everyone would join in.

I've got sixpence

Jolly. jolly sixpence

I've got sixpence to last me all my life

I've got twopence to spend

And twopence to lend

And twopence to send home to my wife-poor wife.

Silver sixpences were the only coin to be used in the puddings because of their purity. As years went by, it became more and more difficult to find them. They had been introduced into currency back in the reign of King Edward VI in 1551, but by 1947 they discontinued manufactured of pure silver and replaced it with cupronickel, an alloy of copper with nickel. Despite its high copper content, cupronicel is silver in colour. The true silver ones are actually not worth that much these days unless you have a special one from 1952, the year when King George VI died, but even that is not pure silver.

1950 was a very special year for me as I did get most of my wish. The dolly in her beautiful blue dress trimmed with silver and white petticoats underneath. She had a lovely bonnet to match and her head was covered in lovely brown ringlets. Her eyelashes were long and framed her face when I placed her in her cot and she closed her eyes and said ‘mama’. I named her Alice after my Gran. 

I did hear through Dan that all the little girls in his orphanage had a similar dolly. Although Dan didn’t come and live with us, he did come for Christmas Day dinner and was introduced to a couple visiting our neighbours. He went to live with them on their farm and when their collie had pups some months later, he was able to choose one for himself which he trained for agility competitions.  I was a bit sorry we couldn’t have one of the pups, but we lived in town and with all of us being either at work or school, it wasn’t feasible.  Dan and I kept in touch by letter but I never visited as the farm was quite a distance away and my folks didn’t have a car. Back then we didn’t even have a phone so eventually our friendship lapsed especially when my family moved away from the area.

Now years later, here I was presenting the pudding and hoping to hold onto the tradition of the Christmas pudding but with a few differences. Firstly, I did not make the pudding as the store made ones are now pretty good and far less work. I had hidden a few dimes in the pudding as these the closest I could get to sixpences. To ensure they didn’t contaminate the pudding, I boiled them. 

I had promised the family I would be presenting a surprise.  My son and daughter both knew about lighting the brandy, but the grandchildren had never experienced this. There were several ohs and ahs when I began dowsing it with brandy and when I produced the match and lit the pud, there was a tremendous cheer as the blue flames went up quite high.   Someone shouted “Grandma’s a pyrotech”.  Yes, the magic was still there.

As I loaded up each plate, I reminded everyone to make a wish before digging in and to check carefully for a coin in the pud. I didn’t want anyone to crack a tooth after all the dentistry the parents had spent. Not everyone liked eating it, but they still had fun rummaging through to see if they were the lucky one. Of course, any rendering of the sixpence song is long forgotten as most don’t know the words. 

History is not always possible to totally repeat, but the memories I have will live forever.

Christmas pudding, christmas pudding

Steaming hot, steaming hot

Pour on the custard, pour on the custard

eat the lot, eat the lot