Christmas Part Two.

The feasting is over and my belly is bulging – but it was worth it.  After three days of anticipation, my cousin finally brought over his panettone pudding: a sinful dish which, under its crisp toasted topping, was the most delicious mess of cream, dried fruit, sugar and soggy panettone. When the spoon is dripping as much as my mouth, I know the pudding’s going to be good – this was no exception.

Then there was my grandmother’s trifle – my death row dessert, if anyone asks. I’ve been known to eat the whole thing on my own, but once again I overdid it in the mains department (too much curry and naan bread) so I let myself down with just one helping. But, oh! Those juicy berries! That wobbling mass of jelly! Such thick vanilla custard!  And wondrous globules of sponge! So sloppy and exciting, I closed my eyes to savour it all the more.

But now it’s all gone for another year… Or until the weekend, when we’re planning a big New Year’s Blow Out. My suggested theme was 2,012 puddings, but that’s probably pushing it, even for me.

Probably.

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