Blog

Arse

by MarkDiac |

Once in a while a long time ago when I was young, rough and in possession of coarse Devon ways I would occasionally be asked if I wanted a snog. Now that I’m old, rough and in possession of coarse Devon ways that question has been replaced with ‘What can I make with medlars other than medlar jelly?’. Those that ask have, at least these days, come to the right person.

A few years ago I was invited on to Radio 4’s Today programme to chat about Otter Farm. The presenter seemed unduly interested in the medlar orchard. Or rather he seemed unduly interested in the medlar orchard once I’d told him that the French refer to medlars as dog’s arse, and the Victorian’s knew them as open arse. He cut fairly straight to the chase when we went live…so tell me about the medlars Mark. ‘I want you to make the audience laugh by saying dog’s arse on the radio’ was the unspoken message. I obliged, gentleman that I am.

Their flavour is, thankfully, rather more pleasant than their French name implies: dates crossed with cooked apple. They make a fine jelly and jam, perhaps too fine as few people look beyond those two uses for them.

Having made medlar gingerbread a couple of weeks ago, I was thinking of other puds to try them in when Xanthe Clay put an idea into my head on Twitter – sticky toffee pudding. On account of having a couple hours free (ie thinking with my stomach) I beat her to trying it out.

For this and most other puds and cakes, medlars are best bletted – the state of gentle decomposition brought on by the frosts. It turns the flesh from pale apple green and firm to deep brown pulp. At this point they are perfect for baking with honey and spices, or extracting the flesh from the skins and seeds. For the latter, there are two methods: chop them up and simmer gently with just a little water until smooth, then sieve out the skins and seeds, or half the medlars and separate the large seeds from the flesh by hand. It’s a little fiddle but then so is driving away from home to buy something else to eat that really won’t taste as good as medlar sticky toffee pudding.

Other than left (ie wrong) footed goal I scored from outside the box the only time I played outfield for my primary school – a goal which drew us level on the way to a 3-2 win having been two behind – medlar sticky toffee pudding may be the pinnacle of my wintery achievements. I have to thank Xanthe for the metaphorical cross that set up the goal.

Medlar sticky toffee pudding

Serves 6, if you’re not too much of a lard ass

For the sauce:
125g unsalted butter
70g golden caster sugar
50g dark muscovado sugar
150ml double cream

For the sponge:
200g medlar pulp
60g unsalted butter, softened
85g golden caster sugar
70g dark muscovado sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
180g plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp salt
85g walnuts, crushed

Preheat the oven to 180°C.

Lightly butter a baking dish approximately 24cm x 20cm.

Put the sauce ingredients in a pan, and heat gently until the butter melts. Turn the heat up and boil for 5 minutes, stirring frequently, until the sauce coats the back of a spoon. Pour a little over half of the sauce into the dish, allow to cool and refridgerate to firm up the sauce.

Beat the butter and sugars together, then add in the eggs, one and a time and beat until combined. Stir in the flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda, cloves and salt until incorporated. Thoroughly stir in the medlar pulp and the walnuts.

Spoon the mixture into the dish, over the toffee sauce. Bake for 30 minutes.

Turn the grill on to a moderate heat. Make holes in the cake with a knife – just large enough to allow the sauce to spak in to the sponge – and pour over the remaining sauce. Grill for just long enough to bubble the top a little. Serve with a lake of double cream or a skipful of vanilla ice cream.

  • Sticky Botty pudding sounds more appropriate if a little profane & would be a best seller on any menu.

  • Oooh – we have a whole tree full of the little sphincterettes (that might be the name of my new band). Not much of a jam/jelly person – but that recipe sounds like a belter. Fetch me a bucket Ethel…

  • Thanks! this made me smile…was wondering whether to label my medlar jelly/cheese with the other names for a bit of fun!
    I have Medlars bletting all over the house since the frosts haven’t done their thing yet….wanted to try something a little more unusual this year….have attempted a medlar liquer-type thing too…a bit like the old Chequers recipe?
    Anyway, will definitely be trying this out too.

    • I’m about to make some using the usual sloe gin combo of fruit, vodka/gin and sugar…though I gather brandy makes a good base. any other ideas?

  • Not having access to our own medlars I’ll look out for some from the posh greengrocers in Clifton, and will gladly give this a whirl. I thought I should keep up the theme of commenting with a vaguely relevant, but completely pointless anecdote, but have yet to grow medlar’s or do anything noteworthy enough to be on radio4 so am left with the title of the piece. Don’t say you didn’t ask for it……
    When I was much younger I joined the sort of organization that is much applauded in the press for the fine job ‘our boys’ are doing for our country. One of the ‘initiations’ that the fine upstanding guys I got to meet was called “The Dance of the Flaming Arseholes” in which the protagonist (or dancer) would stand on a table clenching toilet roll in his buttocks and a full pint in his hand. A colleague would light said toilet roll at floor height and the dancer could only unclench the roll once he had downed the pint. Hoping that that came before the inevitable rise of the flames up the roll. I am rubbish at downing pints……

    • Ye Gods. I hope everything is still in order…

      I shall find a similarly flimpsy excuse to recount the tale of a friend, a shower attachment, chickpeas and a wok at some point.

  • Normally I would leave an anecdotal comment in attempt to trump Pianolearner’s. In this case I am happy that I am unable to do so.

  • Sadly my new medlar tree – planted last year – has only produced 15 medlars. I’ll try the recipe next year, hopefully!

Comments are closed.