Sticky Dates & Satan’s Grapes
Have you ever considered the date? Nature’s toffees (I’m not sure if my family coined this name, but I like it, as much as I like my friend Daisy’s name for blueberries, ‘Satan’s grapes’(I am equally ambivalent about blueberries).
I digress. Dates are magic. It always amazes me that mankind can invent any kind of sugary treat imaginable and then Nature strolls in with this little something she strung on a palm and dried in the sun and we’re rendered redundant once more. When I worked in restaurants they used to arrive in enormous boxes with palm trees painted on them, perhaps a doe-eyed camel too, and inside they were packed between thick sheets of clear plastic; sticky and shining, their coffee-brown skins almost wet looking. Those magic Medjool’s were truly a thing of joy, and we kept them in the walk-in fridge where they became extra fudgy (a fridge cold date is even more magical. Keep your Medjools in the fridge and you’ll see). I would sneak a few into my apron pocket every time I had to go in for a lemon or (another) stick of butter. Even the name, Medjool, is so wonderfully exotic and evocative, as is the other most popular variety, Deglet Noor; the double ‘oo’ an exhaled sigh of sticky pleasure, redolent of some starlit desert, with aforementioned camel snuffling in the background.
Squeeze a date between fingers and feel it reluctantly give, its translucent flesh so toffee-like, its inside lined with what seems like gossamer-thin paper, in which lies prone a tiny, pointed pip like a spindle. I have spent many secret moments in walk-in fridges with a date.
Now I don’t have regular access to enormous boxes of them, I buy a few for Christmas, some the expectedly expensive Medjool, and some the slightly more accessible Deglet Noor. Whenever there are any left, I make this pudding, which is a recipe I have kept in my food stained notebook from way back in the days when I worked in a pub (I worked in several, but that’s a story for another day). It has stood the test of time. The Earl Grey makes the pudding seem nicely at home in an Italian kitchen, with a fragrant background note of bergamot, giving it a little citrus lift that is deliciously welcome. Don’t worry though, this is still the sticky, rich mid-winter fare it was designed to be, perfect for this drab time of year. I serve it in Sardinia with cream gelato, in England I eat it with clotted cream.
At home it is traditional for my Uncle Jamie (I HATE Uncle Jamie!) to bring us one every time he visits, from the infamous Cartmel shop, which he makes sure to pass as he drives down from the borders. It makes him much less hate-able. If you don’t feel like making this (you should! No whisking! No creaming! Instant sticky gratification) then I can highly recommend theirs. This is a proper pudding; not for the faint hearted, something to make for a Sunday lunch in front of the fire, decadent and swimming in sauce. That said, I also love the same cake recipe un-sauced with coffee for breakfast, or with a cup of earl grey at tea time. If you like, halve the recipe and bake in a loaf tin for a lovely date tea cake, to eat spread with thick salted butter (marmalade is optional).
Makes 16 small square portions
500g pitted dates
250g butter
300ml earl grey tea (made using 2 bags or 2 tbsp leaves as you prefer)
350g light brown sugar
4 eggs
1 tsp of salt
100g ground almonds
150g plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
200g of granulated sugar
100g of butter
1 tsp salt
120ml of cream
A squeeze of lemon
Grease and line a 24cm, deep brownie tin (mine is square, but rectangle is fine). Make the tea in a pot. Place the dates and their tea (without the bag/leaves) in a saucepan, and add the sugar, salt and butter. Cook gently for 10 minutes. Puree in a blender or using a stick blender (easier).
Allow to cool a little, whisking occasionally, then once no longer boiling fold in the eggs, then the flour, baking powder and ground almonds.
Bake at 180 for around 50 minutes, until risen and just firm. Remove from the tin and cut into portions (squares).
Whilst the pudding is cooking make the sauce.
Place the sugar in a saucepan and add a splash of water. Put the pan over a medium heat and letn the sugar melt and then begin to caramelise (this will take about 5-10 minutes). You can swirl it occasionally and it should become clear and the colour of weak instant coffee. Once it reaches this colour and begins to smell of caramel turn the heat to low, add the butter and stir.
It will look odd and lumpy but keep stirring until the butter is melted and then add the cream. Stir well until smooth. Add the salt and a few squeezes of lemon juice.
Set aside and keep warm until you want to serve. Alternatively store in the fridge for the next occasion. It can easily be reheated whenever necessary (over a low heat, and just stir well to stop it splitting).
In the pub we made the cake in advance (it keeps well for ages and stays moist) then sauced and microwaved individual portions (it microwaves super well, a minute or 2 should be amble). At home you can bake the cake and pour the sauce over the hot cake, or chop and change as you like (see below).
The cake part also freezes very well, and the sauce will keep comfortably in the fridge for a few days.
P.S. The other greatest way of eating datesm apart from cold fromn the fridge is cold from the fridge smeared with almond butter, or even better, with blue cheese. Bliss.
* Blueberry enthusiasts, do not take offence! I am sure picking a fresh blueberry from an obliging Canadian bush would change my mind. But the ones I have eaten from the shops in the UK are always small, sour and hard or oversized, overly sweet and mushy. Nothing makes me happier than being proved wrong.
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