I like sharing food. However, when it comes to Black Pudding, I am selfish – I want to eat all that I want and only share when I have had enough, and that’s not really sharing. I do not know if it is because I like Black Pudding so much or if it can be traced back to my childhood where there never seemed to be enough Black Pudding to go around for the entire household.
My late aunt, Betty, is the one who introduced me to Black Pudding (that woman introduced me to so many local foods). Every Saturday afternoon I’d go to Miss Kathleen’s carrying a bowl with a cover wrapped with a tea towel to collect the Black Pudding my aunt ordered. As you approached Miss Kathleen’s home, the heady, savoury aroma of thyme and basil (married-man pork) greeted you as warmly as the afternoon sunshine that streamed through the kitchen. The kitchen was small but roomy enough that it was not crowded. By the time I got there, things would be at various stages. Some Black Pudding would already be cooked – long, thick, black coils glistening with the oil with which they were rubbed. A large cauldron-like pot would be bubbling away with Black Pudding cooking and then there would be a huge enamel bowl, I’d say a basin, piled high with the seasoned filling to be stuffed into runners; the ruby-red rice-filling dazzling from the sunlight hitting it. I used to enjoy watching Miss Kathleen make Black Pudding.
With the bowl heavy with Black Pudding, I’d race to my aunt’s home, excited, it’s Black Pudding time! Auntie Betty would portion the Black Pudding and serve to everyone. I would eat mine and always want more; sometimes you’d even “eye” others just in case they might be full and don’t want any more, so you’d get an extra piece or two – that almost never happened!
Black Pudding is one of the things I miss most from Guyana. Over the years, on each visit I’d try Black Pudding from different vendors and places, but all were rather average – some lacking basic seasoning of salt, others none of the signature flavour of thyme and basil while others were dry. Some, the rice would be too hard. At times I’d get Black Pudding, but it was only “nice” when eaten with a lot of sour; on its own, it was blah and bland. I believe that good Black Pudding should be tasty on its own, the addition of sour is a mere palette pleaser. Years ago, there was a lady mommy knew who made Black Pudding for me on a couple occasions, her name was Marcia, but she migrated to the United States a long time ago. Marcia’s Black Pudding reminded me of Miss Kathleen’s.
A couple of months ago whilst on a short trip to Guyana, I mentioned to a friend my desire for some good tasting Black Pudding. She said she would fix me up, she knows someone who makes Black Pudding and it is delivered directly to her home. I turned up the Saturday afternoon to my friend’s home and ate my belly full of Black and White Pudding; more of the Black Pudding really, I don’t care much for White Pudding. I thrive on the richness of Black Pudding. The Black Pudding that day did not disappoint, it was the best I had eaten since Miss Kathleen’s and Marcia’s.
This past week, I got a treat – that same friend sent Black Pudding for me. It arrived in Barbados late Sunday afternoon but could not be delivered until early Tuesday evening. Torture. Tuesday, morning I had some homemade granola cereal with milk and kept myself hydrated with water all day. I did not want to eat anything else because I was looking forward to having Black Pudding for dinner.
After it was defrosted and reheated, I sat down, alone, with a plate of Black Pudding and ate to my heart’s content. I was happy there was no one around for me to have to share my Black Pudding. I savoured every mouthful. It was a taste of home.
I am selfish with Black Pudding.
Cynthia
cynthia@tasteslikehome.org
