Mike Devlin On The History of Pudding: How One Word Divided a Language

Everybody loves pudding, right? But do you know what one actually is? Ask one hundred random people around the world and you are going to get a wide array of answers, all of which they will insist are correct.

No more, says I! We are about to jump in and discover how a simple word used to describe something edible has divided the English-speaking world like no other. I am positive there’s been at least one war over this, and no doubt the English started it.

The North American "Lump"

We will start in North America, which is probably the easiest place to begin. Or is it? No, one thing at a time; we can come back to that. To this continent, "pudding" basically consists of a gelatinous, flavoured lump consumed with a spoon. It is what it is, and it does not get more exciting than this; it is cheap, child-friendly, and possibly the least inspiring dessert you will ever stumble upon.

Exceptions do exist: Bread and Butter Pudding and Rice Pudding are recognised dishes, and a fair few are familiar with Christmas Pudding (though we will get back to that later). But almost to a fault, "pudding" in the US is a packet mix or shop-bought and ready-made; no self-respecting restaurant would be seen dead serving it on their menu. I honestly cannot hide my contempt for the thing.

The Australasian Complication

Australasia, however, is where it gets a little more complicated. The aforementioned "lump" is referred to as a custard, despite often having absolutely nothing to do with eggs or dairy. But if there is a cake that has been boiled or steamed, resulting in a dense and moist texture, then chances are it, too, will fall under the catch-all term of "pudding."

Then we have the "salty puddings," and here is where we find Yorkshire and Black (blood) Puddings. Three completely different things, all called pudding.

The English "Confusion"

Of course, the reason for all this confusion can be laid firmly at the feet of the English, who will offer you a quick glance and quietly tell you, "Confusion? You ain't seen nothing yet." To discover the source, we need to go all the way back to the first recorded instance of a pudding in Merry Olde England.

It is around 1280 or so—give or take—and we find ourselves being served a poding or puddyng. And most appetising it was, too, as we tucked into an animal's entrails stuffed with minced meat, oats, and spices.

A sausage, basically. But really more of a Black Pudding. Obviously, it had to be cooked well lest we all got food poisoning, which is where the phrase "the proof of the pudding is in the eating" comes from; get some poor sap to try it first to find out if it was fully cooked before the important people tucked in.

The Evolution of the Sweet

Over the years, fruits began to be added—first as an accompaniment and then as an ingredient. There wasn't really such a thing as "dessert," so everything tended to be thrown in together. Rice Pottage was a precursor to Rice Pudding, but as rice was imported from the other side of the planet, only the very wealthy could afford it. It first appeared in the cooking collection known as The Forme of Cury in 1390. It was less of a dessert and more of a risotto, but in the following century, sweet additions like honey moved it closer to what we know today.

In 1615, in The English Huswife, Rice Pudding was officially born. It became incredibly popular in the county of Devon, and Devonshire Rice Pudding is still a "thing" to this day.

The Linguistic Shortcut

The trouble was that the English language wasn't particularly adept at this time (pre-Shakespeare) at coming up with new words. If something was similar to a dish or a derivative of it, the same word just got reused. So, when cloth bags became the tool of choice for cooks to cram ingredients into, the word "pudding" was simply recycled.

But Yorkshire Pudding is a batter—and a thin one, too. So why did that end up being called a pudding? Animal fat was highly treasured, so dripping trays were placed under the meat as it roasted to catch the juices. They were originally called "Dripping Puddings." The logic falls a bit flat when the explanation is simply that the batter was "stuffed" into the pan of hot fat. I’m not buying it either; just admit you couldn't be bothered to come up with a new word!

They became "Yorkshire" because the area was famous for coal hearths that created the intense heat (not to mention plenty of carcinogens) ideal for making them rise.

The Cornstarch Revolution

So what happened in the Americas? The English brought their puddings with them, yet modern North America has different definitions. As I said, we’re coming back to them.

In reality, English puddings didn't go anywhere; they were consumed en masse. What changed was the climate and the abundance of different ingredients. In 1842, the landscape changed forever. North America has corn—lots of it. Thomas Kingsford perfected the manufacture of cornstarch, and instantly everything changed. England was still using suet and flour to bind ingredients, but Kingsford allowed for the same result with just a little cornstarch. The Americans took a leaf out of the English playbook and kept the word "pudding" for this new texture, but changed the names of the older, stodgier dishes to things like "fruit cake."

Oddly, Yorkshire Puddings are a thing in the US, but they are called "Popovers," which I am sure did not upset the good people of Yorkshire one bit. Why Popovers? Because the batter "popped over" the sides of the pan. Make an effort, America, for goodness' sake!

The Final Survivor

Over the years, with the rise of modern ovens and industrialised food, the original English puddyng mostly disappeared from the daily global diet. In the UK, however, they were so ingrained in the culture that they remained, leaving the rest of the world perplexed.

But there is one puddyng that remains defiant. It has barely changed in 700 years, it has protected status, and it is known throughout the world: Haggis.

Now, sorry Scotland, but culinarily speaking, it is actually English. It was eaten all over the Isles, but Scotland perfected it. When the rest of the land moved away from using intestines, the Scots stuck to their guns and carried on, sticking two fingers up at the English.

Haggis: the last true puddyng.