berry summer pudding

there have been several times

since starting the blog

that i've been more than

grateful for the name

i assigned this space over

two years ago - originally wanting

to title my journal whatever it

would become: something

that was appropriate,

meaningful,

true and with a back story.

and, not lazy. rustic.

has been good to me on

many occasions - but never,

i think so much as right now,

thanks to this funky looking

summer pudding.

it looks bad. i know.

did you consider not even

reading the recipe when you

saw the picture?

wait until you see the one

below - it was almost enough

to make me not write about it.

but then something happened

that changed my mind:

i had a bite.

and it was too good not to

talk about.

--

i feel like over the course of my

writing here, i have not

necessarily been fair to the

magazine that i used to work for.

it's true - i had a hard time there

in many ways for many years.

but, that job gave me a lot

of things that i would be a fool

to not recognize:

it gave me amazing friends

who are an important part of

my life in many ways.

it made me realize that i wanted

to always work in a field that

involved food in some way.

my experiences were a major impetus in my

decision to go to culinary school.

it taught me to be tough and

believe in myself just a little bit.

it - i think - made me a better boss,

in my current position

than i would have been without

those tough experiences.

and, most relevant today, working

at the magazine taught me about

summer pudding.

i had never heard of summer pudding

before the day that i walked up to the

text kitchen for our daily tasting, at least

seven years ago. my mom made a lot of

bread pudding while i was growing up, but i had never

had this cold version, made without

vanilla or milk or even eggs, and instead

several pints of berries.

in fact, when i first took i bite,

i had no idea that bread was even part of

the dessert. it was purple - fresh and sweet -

and somehow - it all clung together.

i thought there must be gelatin.

but, no, our test kitchen director, said.

no gelatin, just natural pectin from the

blueberries that are released when

simmered together.

i was in love.

and the best part was this - magazines work

months ahead of time. for a recipe to get on

the page, it has to be conceptualized, tested several

times until it's perfect, recreated for the camera,

written about, edited and sent to press. so it

is quite normal to start working on halloween in

april or may. i often made promises to myself that

when the recipe was in season, i would make it

at home. i think that maybe happened three times.

in six years.

instead, almost every summer we published

a variation - sometimes using

only raspberries or a combination of

every berry you could think of, sometimes

the bread was layered between the fruit

and other times the puddings were formed

as minis in little ramekins instead of one

large souffle dish.

every year i promised myself i would make

one at home. but, you already know that i

never did. then this year, i was talking to

my friend and he mentioned that his wife

was going to make a berry trifle - i'm not

sure why, but that triggered my memory.

summer pudding was on.

--

i knew that although the flavors meld

together creating one super berry,

i wanted to only use

strawberries and blueberries,

my favorite of the berries. unfortunately,

all of my copies of the magazine

are packed away, so i needed to find

a recipe calling for just those two

from somewhere else. as often happens,

epicurious is my best friend,

and it featured a recipe from

bon appetit for

strawberry and blueberry summer pudding.

so, i picked out gorgeous ruby red

strawberries and huge, plump

blueberries.

larry and i scoured the bread aisle

in search of a "hearty white bread,"

wanting to make sure that the dessert

was not gummy, but also, that

the juice would seep through to the

bottom as it sat overnight.

the recipe specifically said

pepperidge farm and i decided

this was not the time to be

creative, so i picked up the firmest

loaf the brand provided.

the evening i was making this,

we had dinner plans and i had

to move fast. while i sliced

the strawberries, larry

measured out blueberries.

after larry took a fork away from

me and started breaking down the strawberries

with a masher (um, hello, brooke), i

simmered and stirred the blueberries.

while i lined the bowl with bread slices,

larry played odb and jay-z on itunes.

ok, maybe something went a little wrong

there, but at least he was still in

the kitchen with me.

the bread lining. i knew it wouldn't be

beautiful. it involved straight lines,

perfect fits. in some ways, i was very proud

of the job i did. in other ways, i knew

i should have done better. i looked at it this

way: there was a bowl, it was lined with bread.

victory.

i poured in the blueberry and strawberry

mixture and covered with the top layer of bread.

i covered it with plastic wrap, grabbed a plate

that was slightly smaller than the bowl and tried

to top it with four pounds of canned goods,

which was the hardest part of this whole thing.

then, i spent the next 24 hours

watching it, adjusting the placement of

the cans, switching out the tiny plate for

a large plate and sometimes, just pushing

on it myself. i could see that only select

spots were turning purple, instead of the

entire thing. it wasn't looking good.

but, it was what i made and i refused

to turn my back. just before dessert,

i tossed heavy cream in a bowl

with sour cream and beat them together,

adding a few shakes of confectioners' sugar.

mmm, delicious. if nothing else,

everyone could eat this tangy whipped cream

by the spoonful.

next, i unmolded the pudding.

the good news was that it worked:

the dessert held its shape, instead

of collapsing into a heap, spilling

everywhere, as could have happened.

the bad news was that it looked like this:

i stared at it.

my mom walked over and told me,

as moms do, that she was sure it would

still taste great. oh well.

to my surprise, it actually cut into wedges.

and even more to my surprise,

everyone really seemed to enjoy this

ugly, ugly dessert:

bursting with berries,

sweet and fresh.

just like i remembered.

berry summer pudding

adapted from bon appetit magazine

next time i try this, i'm considering three things: the first would be to strain the berry mixture slightly, reserving the juices to pour over the top in case berries don't seep through, again. my other two thoughts would be to either, gently dip the bread into the simmered berries to get a jumpstart or to just mix the bread in with the berries, instead of layering it on the bottom (but, i'm not so sure that one would work). or, if i decide to just embrace the tie-dyed look, i could make it the same way all over again.

the original recipe called for buttering the bread before adding the fruit, but i've never seen a summer pudding recipe call for butter and it seemed unnecessary, so i left it out.

2 pounds strawberries, hulled and sliced

6 tablespoons granulated sugar, divided

pinch of salt

1 pound of blueberries (about 3 heaping cups)

12 slices firm white bread, crusts removed

in large bowl using potato masher, mash strawberries, 2 tablespoons sugar and salt into a puree.

in medium saucepot over medium heat, stir together blueberries and remaining sugar 7 minutes, or until sugar dissolves and the blueberries start to release their juices. increase heat to high and bring to a boil; boil 5 minutes, or until mixture thickens slightly, stirring often. remove from heat. stir in strawberry mixture. set aside.

line 6-cup bowl with three sheets of plastic wrap, leaving at least a six-inch overhang. line bowl with bread, cutting slices to cover bowl completely. pour in berry mixture. top with remaining bread slices. fold plastic wrap over bread. place plate over bowl. (just a note: the recipe instructed to use a slightly smaller plate than the open bowl, but after a few hours, it just didn't make much sense to me, so i switched to a larger plate. that still didn't work, but at least i felt better about my chances.) weigh down with 4 pounds of canned goods or dried beans. chill at least 12 hours.

to serve, i blended together heavy cream, two spoonfuls of sour cream and a couple shakes of confectioners' sugar until peaks formed. i didn't measure - sometimes there just isn't a reason to. once the cream was whipped, i unwrapped the plastic wrap and unmolded onto a plate. the pudding cut into wedges, but i was prepared to scoop, if necessary.

note: my sisters, who ate the leftovers a couple days later said it was even better after a few days of sitting. they also mentioned that the bread did turn purple. small victories, i guess.