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For Mum, Nan and Gran who taught me not only how to make a pudding but to love, eat pudding and understand the emotional power that a homemade pudding has.

As a kid I would sit spellbound at the kitchen table watching them sieve flour, cream butter and sugar, stoke wood fires, and check the temperature by opening the oven door and placing a wet hand inside.


The biggest reaction at our dinner table was when the pudding arrived – the laughter and sighs of delight, are some of my strongest childhood memories.

 The pudding moment I will never forget was when mum arrived at my primary school with a hot lunch in a silver bowl with a tight fitting lid. “Lamb stew”, mum bleated at me through the car window as she passed the bowl, my heart sank, stew...


I took it and my spoon to the shelter shed, placing them on the bench beside me. Lamb stew, nothing filled me with more dread… STEW!


I took a breath, popped the lid and to the joy of my heart there was a steaming hot Golden Syrup pudding…


That was the moment I knew I wanted to cook.  


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