Home › The Waldorf Kitchen › Cabinet Pudding
Cabinet Pudding
Butter thickly the inside of a mould and arrange a neat design at the bottom with fancy-shaped pieces of citron peel and raisins; over these place a layer of sponge cake cut into strips of any length and about one-half inch thick; over the layer of the cake put some citron, some candied fruit cut into small square pieces and some raisins; then add another layer of cake, some more fruit, and so on until the mould is full. Put the yolks of three eggs into a basin with three tablespoonfuls of sugar and beat them well. Pour one pint of milk into a saucepan and place it on the fire till just on the point of boiling, then stir it in gradually to the beaten egg. Pour the custard over the mixture in the mould. Place the mould in a pan with cold water to about one-third its height, stand it over the fire until boiling and then put the pan and mould in a moderate oven and bake. In about an hour's time the pudding will be cooked. Turn it out of the mould onto a hot dish, and serve with a sauceboatful of sweet sauce.
A steamed-and-baked custard pudding built in layers, of the sort that carried a Waldorf dinner into its final course. Most of what needs translating is the vessel, the oven and the point at which a custard is done.
- Moderate ovenRead this as 350F. The water bath keeps the custard well below that, so the number is less critical than the fact that the water must never come to a rolling boil around the mould.
- The mouldThe recipe does not specify a size; a plain charlotte mould or a straight-sided pudding basin of roughly 1½ quarts suits the quantities. The design at the bottom becomes the top when turned out. Butter it thickly as directed and, if you want insurance on the unmoulding, line the base with a disc of buttered parchment beneath the citron pattern.
- Start on the stove, finish in the ovenThe instruction to bring the water bath to boiling over the fire before it goes into the oven is not fussiness; the book gives no reason, but a bath already at temperature should shorten the time the custard sits raw and help it set evenly.
- Let it soakThe recipe gives no resting time, but leaving the mould to stand twenty minutes after the custard is poured lets the sponge absorb the milk, which makes for a more evenly moistened pudding.
- Custard ratio and donenessThree yolks to a pint of milk is a soft set, held together by the cake. An hour is a reasonable guide for a 1½-quart mould, but judge it by a centre that reaches about 175F and a knife that comes out clean. Past that the custard weeps.
- CitronCandied citron peel, sold in blocks or diced around the winter holidays and stocked year-round by baking suppliers. Candied orange peel is a fair substitute; the mixed "fruitcake fruit" tubs are sweeter and softer than what Oscar had in mind.
- Sponge cakeDay-old and slightly dry is better than fresh, since it drinks the custard without collapsing. Trimmed ladyfingers or a plain génoise both work.
- Sweet sauceNo recipe is given here. A thin vanilla custard sauce, or melted apricot jam let down with a little kirsch, both suit it.
- YieldRoughly six to eight servings from a mould of about 1½ quarts. The book directs that it be turned out onto a hot dish.
Cabinet pudding was a fixture of nineteenth-century English cookery, appearing under that name and also as chancellor's pudding and diplomat pudding, the last of which survives in France as pudding diplomate. All three names gesture at grandeur without anyone having convincingly pinned down an origin; the cabinet in question is generally taken to be the ministerial sort rather than a piece of furniture, though that is tradition rather than documented fact. The dish is fundamentally a thrifty one dressed up: stale sponge cake, dried and candied fruit from the store cupboard, and a plain egg custard, arranged so that the humble parts emerge as a domed, glossy centrepiece. Its presence in Oscar Tschirky's book reflects how thoroughly the Waldorf's dining room ran on the Anglo-French repertoire of the day, where a hotel maître d'hôtel was expected to produce the same puddings a competent English cook made at home, only turned out more neatly and sent up with a sauceboat.