My ambition to try ALL the puddings just got a little easier. Last night, you see, the Man and I paid a wee trip to East London’s Red Market, where various food stalls surround a bar and sand pit, allowing you to munch away in the comfort of deckchairs and hammocks.
The market is going on all summer, staying open every day until late except Sunday. Yesterday we went there after work, mooching around the nine or so stalls for a spot of freshly cooked grub.
I’ll be honest, Ogglers: last night, at least, it was more of a haven for savoury lovers. All I tracked down were three puddings – each a variation of the other – which is hardly a Pud-Hog’s ideal situation.
Thankfully, it turned out not to matter: what we had was great.
The three variations in question were all Hungarian Strudels (or Rétes as they are known in those parts), and came from a stall called The Hungarian Cuisine.
For an impressively reasonable £1.50 a slice, the Man and I tried two of the flavours on offer: Sweet Cheese, and Cherry and Poppyseed. The third, an Apple variety, was probably very delicious too, but didn’t sound quite as exciting for our needs…
So how exactly did they taste, I hear you ask?
Let’s start with the Cherry and Poppyseed (that purplish monster, lurking in the background of my close-up).
With its whole baked cherries and great swathes of cooked poppyseeds, it was quite a messy eat – but well worth the subsequent teeth-picking session. There were lovely citrus hints to be had – possibly even a touch of booze – with an overall texture of juicy fruit and moistness.
Indeed, to my surprise, the poppyseeds weren’t at all crunchy – neither was the pastry. Normally this might make me sad, but this time it really didn’t: the whole thing went down so smoothly that I could hardly bear to stop eating, let alone pause to complain.
As for the Sweet Cheese Strudel… Well, imagine the centre of a Cheesecake studded with sultanas and lemon peel, all wrapped up in a soft filo blanket. That’s pretty much what we were tasting here: a wedge of cottage cheese-style filling (called Túró in Hungarian), which practically dived down my gullet, hugging my tongue on the way.
Neither were like any Strudel I’d had before and I’d seek them out again, for sure. Sooner rather than later, ideally – just thinking about them now is making me Hungary!
Sorry, Ogglers: I don’t know what came over me. I think I need a lie-down.
If only I had me a hammock…