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Sunday, August 13, 2006

The Eternally Flaming Spotted Dick

Ok, this posting has nothing to do with any blokes. Spotted Dick is a British pudding, that is a dessert, made of sponge cake spotted with raisins and sultanas. Sultanas are also raisins but they are raisins with great PR. Anyway, while in Monterey I stopped by a British specialties shop at which I bought all sorts of Brit sweets, such as toffees, pastilles and a vacuum packed Spotted Dick.

During my last night with Barb in Monterey on August 9th, I was crabby because the wireless Internet connection was fagging out for the third day in a row and I was a tad crabby. Ok, I was a vicious, blood-sucking harpy bitch; happy? Anyway, I decided a bit of spotted dick would be a lovely way to end my day.

So I heated up the pudding and added about a ¼ of some raw blueberries. Then I warmed up about an ounce of Grand Marnier, turned out the lights, and with great flourish, lit my Spotted Dick (you there, STOP giggling!).

Nothing happened.

So, I poured on some more Grand Marnier and again tried to light the Dick and the blueberries.

Again; nothing happened. Damn!

So again I added another dousing of Grand Marnier to the Dick. Nothing happened. I rationalized that perhaps the microwaving of the liqueur had burned off the alcohol.

By this time Barbara, who had been reading, wanted the lights back on. I refused and again tried to light the Dick, this time dropping the lit match down my nightgown gaining the effect, not of flaming Spotted Dick, but flaming tit, which as far a I know may be a British delicacy, but you aren’t about to find it in any cooking books.

‘Add some more Grand Marnier!’ said Barb, wanting to get back to reading her Oprah magazine. I liberally poured some more on the Dick and the raw blueberries, which by now was in serious need of a life preserver.

I held the match to the Dick – WOOOF - the Dick went up in blue flames!

‘Oh’, suggested Barbara, ‘maybe you didn’t get the thing lighted well enough.’

No shite! The flames burned on and on. I raced for my camera to record the event and got the shot lined up, sure the flames would burn out before I was ready, then remembered there was no battery in the camera so I raced off to fetch it, which sent Barbara and me into fits of laughing hysteria.

Some five minutes, and several photos later, the Dick was still in flames! I guess Barb was right, I hadn’t quite gotten the liquor lit and bowl was heating up. I considered sending the bowl, Dick, berries and all, off to make an eternal flame for James. I know he could have appreciated all the Freudian connotations of an eternally flaming Spotted Dick.

Lo! Eventually the flames went out and I had my dessert. No surprises the raw blueberries were now nicely boiled and quite yummy.

The 'potato' in the dish surrounded by raw blueberries is the Spotted Dick, photographed here with the lights on.

Here is the Spotted Dick photographed modestly; lights out, out of focus, but with flames blazing on and on and on an the blueberries cooked to a tee!