The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3108

Scotch Pudding

Pouding a l'Ecossaise

Soften twelve ounces of beef marrow at the oven door, without letting it melt. Pass it through a strainer and lay it in a bowl to beat to a cream, adding to it one by one ten egg-yolks, two whole eggs, also a pinch of salt, then put in fourteen ounces of bread-crumbs soaked in milk, two ounces of candied cherries cut in two, four ounces of candied orange and lemon peel cut in small three-sixteenth inch squares and half a gill of rum; lastly mix in ten egg-whites, beaten to a very stiff froth. Transfer this preparation into a buttered and sugared dome-shaped mold with a tube in its center; set it into a saucepan with water reaching to half its height, and place the saucepan on the fire for the water to come to a boil, then finish cooking in the oven for forty minutes. As soon as the pudding is done unmold it on a dish and cover over with apricot marmalade (No. 3675) diluted with a little Madeira wine; serve with a sauce-boatful of sauce or punch made as follows: Put in a saucepan a gill and a half of brandy, a gill and a half of rum, a gill of vanilla syrup, the peel of a lemon and of an orange and a small bit of cinnamon. Just when ready to serve heat without boiling and then set it on the fire for a few seconds to burn out the alcohol; cover the saucepan at once to extinguish the fire, and serve.

For the Modern Kitchen

A rich Victorian marrow pudding, steamed in a bain-marie and finished in the oven. Nothing in it is unsafe, but almost every material detail — the fat, the mold, the units — needs translating.

A Little History

The name means simply Scottish-style: pouding à l'écossaise. Charles Ranhofer, who ran the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York and published The Epicurean in 1894, gives dozens of these numbered puddings in sequence — Saxony, Scotch, Schiller — as interchangeable dessert entremets for a long service. Beef marrow, rather than the suet of the English original, may well be the mark of the professional kitchen: it was a by-product of breaking down bones for stock, it is milder and more delicate than suet, and it was already the classic enrichment for marrow dumplings and for the marrow forcemeats served on toast. Candied cherries and citrus peel, imported and expensive, plausibly signalled the same thing a flaming brandy-and-rum punch did at table — that this was a restaurant dish, not a nursery one.