Spotted Dick, also known as Spotted Dog, and a favorite desert of fictional British naval hero Jack Aubrey, but less loved by his friend and surgeon Stephen Maturin, is described in the Aubrey/Maturin companion A Sea of Words as,
A suet pudding containing currants (the spots) and cooked to a firm consistency in a tightly wrapped pudding cloth.
When I think of suet, I think of the stuff birds eat, so other than the currants, this sounds disgusting. 
Granted, it lacks the seeds you find in bird suet, but I think if they were out of the hull, they’d probably be a good addition to the pudding. You can find a recipe for Spotted Dick in the gastronomic companion to the Aubrey/Maturin novels, Lobscouse and Spotted Dog, a book I do not yet own. Blogger Ellison does, and prepared an entire Aubrey/Maturin feast, which he says “possibly the most cholesterol-laden, calorific, and costly meal I have ever had.” He also describes Spotted Dick as
a suet pudding that is like nothing so much as a cake – albeit a cake made with beef suet in lieu of vegetable shortening or butter, and steamed for several hours instead of being baked. Laden with aromatic cinnamon and nutmeg, with dried currants to give it the proper spotted appearance, it was – surprisingly – quite nice.
So maybe it’s worth a try. There are few dishes I won’t try. In fact I can’t remember the last time I refused to try a new dish. And my dear considerate wife, knowing of my deep devotion to the Aubrey/Maturin novels, and having heard me utter the words “Spotted Dick” on occasion, had to buy a can when she saw it on the grocery shelf. And I was delighted, stuck it in the pantry for future consumption, and promptly forgot about it. It got remembered once in a while, but never at an opportune time. And so a year or two has gone by, while the ghost of Jack Aubrey is no doubt alternating between looking at me disdainfully for not having tried it and looking aghast at the idea of eating Spotted Dick that comes in a can rather than fresh from the kitchen.
Welcome to the modern world, Captain Aubrey. You wouldn’t like our sail-less modern navy, either.
I spotted it again this morning, and decided today was the day to make it. Following the directions, I began by boiling it “gently” for 35 minutes. I’m not sure what that means, as in my experience boiling water isn’t gentle (and believe me, I have some memorable experience with it), but I presumed it meant not a rolling boil, so I kept the flame low enough to make the water merely bubble instead of roar.
After the allotted time had elapsed I set the can on a plate and carefully punched a small hole with the can opener to let the steam escape, then removed the lid and set the pudding on the plate. It look like this.
It doesn’t look very appetizing, but then neither did the dish of octopus I had in the Korean restaurant in Cleveland, and that was fantastic. Of course there’s a reason nobody’s ever told a joke with the punchline that in hell the Koreans are the cooks.
Unappealing looks or not, I called all the kids into the kitchen to give it a try. Our standard method is to require the kids to take a taste. They don’t have to take more than one taste if they don’t like something, they don’t even need to swallow the bite they take, and there are no recriminations for not liking something. This low risk approach, knowing there’s no commitment, has made them generally willing to try new foods, even octopus and English puddings. (“That’s a pudding, dad?” “Well, honey, the British have strange conceptions of pudding. Or, rather, since they invented puddings, maybe we Americans have strange ideas about pudding.”) So I sliced it up and served it out.
Number 1 daughter love it. Of course she’s a swimmer in season, which means she’d eat the couch cushions, the dog, and her medals if we didn’t keep an eye on her, so I don’t know that her opinion counts for much.
Number 2 daughter found it neither particularly likable nor unlikable. Drawing on her Swiss heritage, she was profoundly neutral.
Number 3 daughter was revolted, immediately spitting it out. She loudly denounced it as a wicked colonialist plot and praised George Washington for saving us from the scourge of English puddings.
My wife liked it well enough, and accurately described it as a mix of gingerbread and raisin bread. Which is all well and good if you like that kind of thing. To my mind, God created ginger solely for the purpose of making Tom Ka Gai, and raisins are just senescent grapes; old, wrinkled, and bitterly mourning their lost youth. (The California Raisins, of course, were just a corporate trick by the California Raisin Marketing Board to get us to consume their spoiled products, much like Hollywood pitching another Tom Cruise movie).
Me? Meh. I’d eat it at Aubrey’s table to be courteous, but I’d certainly be drinking my wine bumpers and no heel taps to wash it down.
No wonder Maturin always worried about Aubrey’s health, if he was pounding down tubs of that stuff.
Russell Saunders was commenting on his love of marmite the other day, which had me thinking about the fact that I’d never tried spotted dick before (in addition to never having tried marmite). So thank you for the report. Will you do one on marmite?Report
Marmite sounds like a mineral, or possibly an explosive substance.
“A disaster today at the local marmite mine has this small community reeling”.Report
I laughed.Report
Many families in the marmite mines of West Virginia have lost a husbands or sons in explosions at their marmite mines. They did give us the great folk song, “Which side are you on” about whether you should spread marmite on one side or two sides of a piece of bread.Report
Mourning Marmite Mine Men is a history of the era written entirely in alliterated sentences.Report
I take it thats why so many comic book writers were born in that era.Report
Eisenhower liked Suet so much that he ordered the Brits to end the Suet Crisis in 1956.Report
Thanks for keeping us up on the currant affairs of the Hanley household.Report
For these puns, I require you to eat British food for a month.Report
I will eat at Gordon Ramsey restaurants and send you the bill.Report
Pudding originally referred to what we call sausage, i.e. blood pudding is blood sausage. Over time, it became applied more and more to sausages that had ingredients to make them taste sweet like currants or sugar. By the late Georgian period, pudding was the word the British used for deserts. Americans also called deserts puddings until the 1830s, when the word desert became part of the lexicon in upper class households in New York and eventually the entire country.Report
Now that’s a fascinating linguistic history lesson. Thanks.Report
Additionally, the strong spices (cloves, cinnamon, ginger, etc.) commonly used in puddings masked rancid meats and fats.
Pate, terrains, and meat pies are the heirs of this culinary tradition.
And SPAM.Report
That’s not true. Spices were added for taste but not to cover rancid meat. Even back than, people knew eating rotten food was a bad idea and generally didn’t eat it. It’s just that it was much more difficult to keep food fresh or preserved. Turning meat into sausage was a reliable way to do so.Report
@leeesq rancid does not mean rotten; it’s fats in a pre-rotten state, like butter that’s sat out in the heat all day. Not necessarily going to make you sick, but not smelling so good, either.Report
Lee,
Rancidity won’t kill ya. Rot/Mold/Botulism will kill you.
I regularly cook with rancid butter — it’s not the best, but eh. It was in the fridge.
(speaking of which, I need to make a trip to the store, for another 40lbs of food).Report
@leeesq
Where did the word desert come from?Report
French probably.Report
places without much rainfall.Report
From the indispensable Online Etymology Dictionary.
Report
Dessert is a word with its etymology in plain sight: desservir, de-serve, un-serve. Basically, clear the table. Comes at the end of the meal.
Sort of like after, from ofter, meaning more (-er) away, essentially more off, or more aft.Report
Chris and James,
Heavy desserts are commonly used to keep people warm at night. (Belly makes a good heat engine if it’s digesting something yum!)Report
I just read the blog entry on the naval supper. It looks like something that would be delicious but instantly fatal or at least require you to starve yourself for a week afterwards. Refrigeration ensures that you don’t need to eat everything at once these days and can save a lot for latter. It also seems to be something best served to a large group to maximize the fun. Its a feast not a meal.
On YouTube, you can watch a documentary about preparing a Tudor era Christmas feast using the techniques of the time. They loved good food just as much as we do now but the technology made everything more labor intensive back than. There is another BBC series you can watch or used to be able to watch on YouTube that samples British cuisine through different eras like the Edwardian, the Victorian, the Roman, the Restoration, and Elizabethan. Fascinating stuff.Report
@leeesq
Do you have a link for the Tudor Christmas? That is something my wife would love.Report
@aaron-david
Did you hear about the kid who was really good at history?
He became the class Tudor….Report
If you type in a Tudor Christmas on you tube it should come up. It was divided into four or six segments.Report
@aaron-david, here is the link to the full show. Its an hour long.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3DmrqjtD1YReport
Thank you LeeEsq, I will forward that to the wife.Report
Man, if ever there was a time we needed Schilling…Report
Use the Schilling symbol, Commissioner Kelly.Report
He would spice it up…Report
@tod-kelly
Are you saying my jokes aren’t up to snuff?
Sniff, I think I am going to go into the corner and have a good cry now….Report
tsk tsk tsk. Your “my jokes are so bad” joke is horrid. Get that one right FIRST and then work on your real act. You’ll use it more often, trust me.Report
My family has a long tradition of making Spotted Dick/Figgy Duff (or Cannonball Pudding as we call it) from scratch. I can assure you that the real McCoy is infinitely better than that canned abomination you tried.
Slick and doughy on the outside, dense and hearty on the inside, resplendent with currants and spices with a rum and brown sugar sauce, figgy duff is a feast fit for kings but should, admittedly, be enjoyed sparingly and with much exercise.Report
British names for things lend themselves to so many innuendos and off-color jokes….Report
It’s the only way they were allowed to express emotion.Report
I have to admit that I was extremely tempted to make an off colour remark (which on reflection had homophobic implications). I refrain from doing so because it came off as nasty rather than merely wiseass.Report
@leeesq That I could, Lee. That I could.Report
@tod-kelly
Are you replying to the wrong comment and the wrong brother?Report
Oh crap. Right brother, wrong thread. I meant that to be a response to Lee’s (highly amusing) Commissioner Kelly comment.Report
The simple lack of a proper custard sauce in itself should disqualify Dr. Hanley from commenting on pudding.Report
Gout wasn’t referred to as the disease of kings for nothing.Report
North,
How similar is your recipe to what we would simply call ‘bread pudding’ here in the South? Bread pudding is one of my favorite desserts, so long as it isn’t ruined by the inclusion of raisins.Report
Lobscouse and Spotted Dog is a brilliant book, and the fact that you don’t own it is a travesty in itself. Shame on you sir, you aren’t much better than Ossian.Report