Christmas pudding still has not won me over

I have tried hard to like Christmas pudding. Fancy ones, cheap ones, supermarket ones and homemade ones have all had a chance, and I still can’t get there. For this taste test I bought a tiny Tesco Finest pudding that served one. It was adorable, which was more than I could say for the prospect of eating it.

What I struggle with is the dried, spiced fruit. To me, the texture and flavour are much less appealing than cake, chocolate, cookies, pie or ice cream. I know Christmas pudding means something to people who grew up having it, but I don’t have that family connection to it. I was left with the pudding itself, and the pudding wasn’t winning.

The little pudding was cute, at least

At Tesco I’d seen different sizes, including one intended for eight people and a regular Tesco version somewhere in between. I chose the little twelve-month pudding for one. Even though I knew I hated Christmas pudding, I could appreciate how cute the small one was.

The back described a pudding made with vine fruits and glace cherries, along with several kinds of alcohol. After tasting it, the best description I could offer was a spiced raisin with a slightly alcoholic taste. If you know the feeling of biting into a wet raisin, that was the texture I kept noticing. It wasn’t a dessert I could forget was full of fruit.

Microwaved, turned out and slightly broken

This particular pudding had instructions for microwaving or steaming it. I wasn’t going to steam it for half an hour, so I followed the microwave option on the pack. It called for leaving it in the plastic basin, piercing the film and heating it. A short trip through the microwave suited me much better than a long wait for a pudding I already didn’t want.

Once it was heated, I peeled off the top and turned it out onto a plate. It came out in pieces. I thought that was probably because I hadn’t let it settle long enough, but I was keen to get this over with. Broken or whole, there were plenty of raisins and other little bits to look at.

I decided to try some before drowning it in anything. That first taste didn’t produce a change of heart. I found it offensive, which sounds dramatic, but I’d actually broken into a cold sweat at the prospect of doing this. The wet-raisin texture and the spiced, slightly alcoholic flavour were exactly what I didn’t enjoy.

The custard argument doesn’t convince me

When I tell British people how much I despise Christmas pudding, a lot of them say I’m eating it wrong because I’m supposed to drown it in custard. I understand the suggestion, but if you have to drown something in custard to make it taste good, perhaps the thing underneath isn’t very good in the first place.

That’s my argument, rather than a verdict on somebody else’s Christmas. In conversations about pudding, people have also told me they like it because it is a tradition. Perhaps their mom made one every year, or the family always shared a big supermarket pudding. I can see how those memories might matter more than judging a single spoonful.

I don’t have the Christmas memories that go with it

My little hypothesis was that the emotional connection explains some of the appeal. A Christmas pudding can mean something to a person and their family even if the flavour isn’t their favourite part. I don’t have that tradition or family connection. All I can do is look at it, try it and realise that I don’t like it.

I can appreciate people keeping a food tradition going without wanting it on my own plate. I’d even forgotten to set this one on fire, which I realised too late would have been good for the video. There are lots of British foods and drinks I enjoy trying, but Christmas pudding is still outside that group.

Watch my Christmas pudding taste test.