Monday dinner in the 50s
When I was at primary school in Stratford upon Avon, I went home in the middle of the day for dinner. Our house was just a mile from school and I rode my bike back and forth, usually on the pavement. I would be home by quarter past 12 and had an hour before I had to leave again. The meal was served just before one when my father came in from work. I remember being just outside the back door - skipping, looking after my younger brother or going in and talking to my mother as she prepared the meal. This is how I remember those times - perhaps a day in the early 1950s.

It was Monday. I knew the main course would be cold meat left over from the Sunday roast, chutney, mashed potatoes, and probably carrots. The mashed potatoes were nice with a bit of chutney. I didn’t care much for cold meat. There would not be very much of it on my plate, but I was expected to eat what I had been given.

Then there was always pudding.

“What's for pudding Mum?”
“Lemon pudding I hope - there's that big lemon and I've got a couple of eggs. Now if only I can find your Auntie Gladys's recipe, I can do that quite quickly.” As she spoke she rummaged among the bags of flour and sugar, packets of cornflour* and custard, tins of cocoa and ovaltine, and sticky jars of jam and Bovril. Finally she came across a small piece of folded paper. It was always there but each time my mother wanted to make this pudding there was the same search and the same sense of relief as she retrieved the brown stained and slightly sugary paper, unfolded it gently so that it did not tear and placed it on the kitchen table. Auntie Gladys's round hand and blue ink had survived the sugar and lemon juice.

“Yes - I need just a couple of ounces of butter, 3 tablespoon of sugar. I'll beat them and then add grated lemon rind, the 2 egg yolks, and only about a tablespoon of flour, and then lemon juice of the whole lemon and one and a half gills of milk.”

“What's a gill Mum?”

“Four gills one pint
Eight pints one gallon”, my mother would chant - from her school days.

Making do in the kitchen
I don't remember us having a measuring jug at home, but my mother would take a large cup and use that to measure the milk. A more unusual feature of this pudding preparation occurred when there was no grater to be found. It was years before we had a proper grater bought from a shop. Instead every few months my mother would take the lid from the tin of cocoa or ovaltine that was nearest to being finished. Then with a small screwdriver and hammer, she would bash a few holes from inside to outside of the lid. She probably did this on the back step or on the wooden draining board. It made enough rough edges on the outer side of the lid to grate a lemon. After several uses rust would develop, the tin lid grater would be thrown away and a new one created.

When this sloppy batter was well mixed, the egg whites were beaten until stiff and folded in. It was then poured into a buttered Pyrex dish and slid into the oven.

When it came out it had separated into a light sponge on top and a wonderful soft tangy lemon curd like sauce at the bottom.

Have a go yourself
I still love this pudding and found it in Hume and Down's classic - “Desserts and Puddings”.

2 oz (60 gms) butter, 3 oz (90 gms) caster sugar, large lemon, 2 eggs,
tablespoon plain flour, 1½ gills (7½ oz) of milk

For instructions, follow what my mother did.

Preferably, bake in a Bain Marie – that is place the dish of mixture into a larger dish of warm water – before putting it into the oven. Temp Mark 4 for about 45 minutes, until the pudding is light brown and firm to the touch. If you want to cook it more quickly use a shallower dish. For a touch of luxury, add a spoonful of cream or crème fraiche when serving this pudding.