The first proper British Sticky Toffee Pudding I ever ate came out of a hostel kitchen in Cumbria, on the last Saturday of Damson Day in the Lyth Valley. There was a brass band a field over, the rain had just stopped, and the hostel owner, a woman called Margaret who ran the place above the village shop in Crosthwaite, was scraping warm date sponge into bowls for whoever had not gone home.
She did this every Sunday too. Sometimes Saturday if there was a festival on. She had a sheet pan of it on the stove and a saucepan of toffee sauce going at the same time, and she did not say anything about the recipe. She just handed me a bowl.
A Damson Day Bowl in Crosthwaite
The festival itself is small. Damson gin, damson chutney, a few sheepdog demos, a tent of women selling jam. I had been there since morning with two Dutch backpackers I had met on the bus from Kendal, and by the time we got back to the hostel my boots were wet through.
Margaret had her radio on. Some BBC programme about gardening. She told me sticky toffee pudding was not actually as old as everyone assumed.
That it was a twentieth century thing, popularised at Sharrow Bay Country House Hotel on the lake at Ullswater in the 1970s by a man called Francis Coulson. Earlier than that, the trail went cold and got argued about. A Lancashire hotelier named Patricia Martin in the 1940s. A Yorkshire inn in 1907. Nobody fully agrees.
I asked her if she minded that it was not ancient. She shrugged. Said her grandmother had never made one. That was good enough.
Bringing It Back to a Hot LA Kitchen
I tried to recreate it the week I got back. My apartment kitchen does not get the same kind of cold afternoon light that Margaret’s did. It was August in Los Angeles, the AC was working too hard, and the butter went to grease before I had even finished measuring.
That was attempt one. Attempt two went better.
The Medjool dates I get from the Persian grocer on Westwood Boulevard, which sounds fussy but they are softer than the sealed plastic ones at the regular store, and they collapse into the batter properly. For muscovado I had to order online. Dark muscovado, not light. The molasses content is what makes the sauce taste like the one Margaret made and not like a generic caramel.
The black treacle I keep a tin of in the cupboard now. It lasts forever and shows up in maybe three recipes I cook, which is enough.
What I Used
- 1.5 cups pitted Medjool dates, finely chopped
- 1.25 cups boiling water or strong black tea
- 1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
- 1.75 cups self raising flour, sifted
- 0.5 cup unsalted butter, softened, plus extra for the dish
- 0.75 cup dark muscovado sugar
- 2 large eggs at room temperature
- 1 tbsp black treacle
- 1 tsp vanilla extract
- 0.25 tsp fine sea salt
- 1 cup unsalted butter for the sauce
- 1.25 cups dark muscovado sugar for the sauce
- 1.25 cups heavy cream (double cream) for the sauce
- 1 tsp black treacle for the sauce
- 0.5 tsp vanilla extract for the sauce
Where the Pudding Punishes You
This recipe rewards waiting and punishes hurry. The dates, once you pour the boiling water and the bicarb in, need a full ten minutes to sit. They look like they are done at five. They are not. If you fold them in too early the batter does not soften them properly and you get little chewy date bits instead of a fudgy crumb.
The toffee sauce is the other place. Four to five minutes at a gentle bubble. Not a rolling boil. I rushed it the first time and the sugar caught and went bitter at the bottom of the pan. Threw the whole batch out. Started again with the radio off so I could actually hear when it stopped foaming.
The sponge itself is forgiving. You cream the butter and muscovado for nearly four minutes, which feels like an eternity standing over a stand mixer with nothing to do, but it matters. Skip it and you get a denser cake. Eggs one at a time. Treacle, vanilla, salt. Flour folded gently. Then the warm date mixture, all of it, soaking liquid included.
I almost forgot the salt the second time. Caught it just before the flour went in.
The Pricking and Pouring Part
This is the bit people skip and then wonder why their pudding is not sticky. As soon as the sponge comes out of the oven, you take a wooden skewer and you stab it all over. Push down to the base of the dish. Be unkind to it.
Then about a third of the hot toffee sauce, poured slowly so it has time to seep down into the holes. Let it sit five minutes. The rest of the sauce goes over each portion at the table, hot, generous, more than you think.
One thing I changed from Margaret’s version. She served it with pouring cream, the proper cold British kind, straight from the jug. I cannot reliably get that in LA so I do a scoop of good vanilla ice cream instead. It melts into the hot sauce and does the same job.
What You Lose, What Stays
The home version is missing the things that made it perfect that day. The damp wool smell of everyone’s coats drying. The Dutch backpackers arguing about which bus to catch back. Margaret half listening to her radio. None of that comes through in my LA kitchen on a Tuesday night.
What does come through is the pudding itself. The crumb is dense and almost wet in a good way. The sauce soaks into the holes and pools at the bottom of the bowl and you scrape it with the spoon. Cold leftovers, eaten standing up at the fridge the next morning. Better than I remembered.
I make it about once every couple of months now, usually when someone is coming over for dinner who I want to actually impress. It works every time. Margaret would probably say I am overthinking it. She is probably right.
British Sticky Toffee Pudding
Ingredients
Equipment
Method
- Preheat the oven to 350 F. Generously butter a 9 inch square baking dish and set it on a rimmed baking sheet to catch any drips.
- Place the chopped dates in a medium saucepan with the boiling water. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, then remove from the heat and stir in the bicarbonate of soda. The mixture will foam and turn pale. Let it sit for 10 minutes until the dates are pulpy and soft.
- In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle, cream the softened butter and dark muscovado sugar on medium-high speed for 3 to 4 minutes until lightened in colour and fluffy. Scrape down the bowl.
- Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each. Mix in the tablespoon of black treacle, vanilla extract and salt. The batter may look slightly split — this is fine.
- Sift the self-raising flour over the batter and fold it in gently with a spatula until just combined. Pour in the warm date mixture, including all the soaking liquid, and fold again until you have a loose, smooth batter.
- Scrape the batter into the prepared baking dish and smooth the top. Bake on the middle rack for 30 to 35 minutes, until the sponge is risen, deeply browned and springs back when pressed lightly in the centre.
- While the pudding bakes, make the toffee sauce. Combine the 1 cup butter, 1.25 cups muscovado sugar and the heavy cream in a clean saucepan. Set over medium heat and stir until the butter melts and the sugar dissolves.
- Bring the sauce to a gentle bubble and let it simmer for 4 to 5 minutes, stirring often, until glossy and slightly thickened. Stir in the teaspoon of black treacle and the vanilla. Remove from the heat.
- When the sponge comes out of the oven, prick it all over with a wooden skewer, pushing down to the base of the dish. Slowly pour about one third of the hot toffee sauce evenly over the surface and let it soak in for 5 minutes.
- Cut into squares and serve warm, with the remaining toffee sauce poured generously over each portion at the table.