Five Traditional Puddings to Finish a Pub Lunch

Why Pudding Still Belongs at the End of a Pub Lunch

A proper pub lunch has a rhythm to it. A pint poured while you read the chalkboard, something hot and generous on a plate, and then the question that separates the merely peckish from the genuinely committed: are we having afters? The answer, in a good pub, should nearly always be yes. British puddings are not dainty restaurant confections. They are warm, stodgy and unapologetically sweet, built for cold afternoons and long conversations, and they are the reason a pub lunch feels like a proper occasion rather than a pit stop.

What follows are five classics worth ordering, plus a few notes on how to spot the ones made with care rather than bought in frozen.

Sticky Toffee Pudding

The benchmark of the modern pub pudding menu, and deservedly so. A good version starts with a sponge made from chopped dates softened in boiling water with a spoonful of bicarbonate of soda, which gives the crumb its dark, almost molasses-like depth. The batter itself should be light; the toffee sauce — double cream, butter and a mix of soft brown and muscovado sugar — is where the weight belongs.

Look for a pudding that arrives swimming rather than drizzled, with a jug of extra sauce on the side if you are lucky. If the sponge tastes simply of sugar and the sauce is thin and pale, it has almost certainly come out of a tray. Ask whether it is made in-house. Any pub worth its salt will tell you proudly, and any that shuffles its feet has told you all you need to know.

Apple and Blackberry Crumble

The most forgiving pudding in the British repertoire and, done well, one of the best. The fruit should be Bramleys — sharp enough to cut through the topping — cooked down with a little sugar until they collapse but still hold a bit of bite. Blackberries, when in season from late August, add a tart edge that stops the whole thing becoming cloying.

The crumble itself is the test. A proper topping is rubbed by hand, half butter to half plain flour, with demerara sugar stirred through for crunch and a pinch of salt to keep it from tasting flat. It should be uneven, with a few clumps the size of a hazelnut, and it should be baked until the edges catch and caramelise slightly against the dish.

Then the only real decision: custard, cream or ice cream. Hot custard made with egg yolks is the traditional answer. Clotted cream is the indulgent one. Vanilla ice cream gives you the contrast of cold against hot, which is a legitimate pleasure. Ordering all three is not unknown.

Steamed Sponge Puddings

These are the oldest puddings on the list and the most neglected. Steaming produces a texture no oven can match: damp, springy and light in a way that sounds contradictory until you taste it. You will find them under several names.

• Spotted dick — suet sponge studded with currants, served with custard.
• Jam roly-poly — rolled suet pastry spread with raspberry or strawberry jam, sliced thick.
• Treacle sponge — golden syrup at the bottom of the basin, sponge on top, turned out and sauced.
• Sussex pond pudding — a whole lemon steamed inside a suet crust with butter and sugar. A rarity, and worth ordering on sight.

Suet, not butter, is what gives these puddings their particular tender heaviness. Vegetarian suet works perfectly well. If a pub is serving any of them, it is making an effort that few bother with, and that is usually a good sign about everything else on the menu.

Bread and Butter Pudding

The frugal pudding that became a favourite. Slices of slightly stale white bread, buttered, layered with raisins or sultanas and a little grated nutmeg, then soaked in a custard of eggs, milk and cream and baked until the top is crisp and the middle barely set. Stale bread is not a compromise here; it is the point. Fresh bread turns to mush.

The tell is the custard. If it has split or turned rubbery, the oven was too hot. A good one wobbles gently when you press the centre. Ask for it warm rather than hot, and take the cream.

How to Order Well

A few practical points that improve the whole affair.

• Order pudding when you order the main. Steamed puddings and crumbles are often made in limited numbers, and the popular ones run out by half past two.
• Ask what is made in-house. It is a fair question and no decent kitchen minds it.
• Give a steamed pudding twenty minutes. If it arrives in three, it was reheated in a microwave, and the texture will show it.
• Match the drink. A sweet stout, a glass of tawny port or a strong tea all work better than a hoppy pale ale alongside a sticky pudding.

Finish with coffee if you like, but give the pudding its moment first. That warm, unhurried pause at the end of a pub lunch — spoon in hand, rain on the window — is one of the small, durable pleasures of British life, and it costs very little to get right.