So, Let’s Talk Bread and Butter Pudding
Look, if you wandered into my kitchen on a rainy Sunday, chances are you’d smell my dodgy attempt at Bread and Butter Pudding wafting through the house. This is that one dish I associate with my grandmother (she put sultanas in EVERYTHING), but also those lazy uni days when I had slightly stale bread and a craving for ‘proper’ comfort food, minus the effort. Once, I got cocky and tried doing it on the barbecue outside—nearly set the garden hedge on fire! Anyway, almost every home cook here has their own family twist (mine involves more cinnamon than is probably legal), and I’m excited to pass along how I muck about with it.
Why I Always Come Back to This Old Favourite
I make this pudding when I’ve got leftover bread that’s gone a bit sad or when I’ve got folks coming round and need to whip up something sweet with basically nothing in the fridge. My family practically inhale it (except that one cousin who picks out the raisins, but you can’t please everyone). It’s ridiculously forgiving, honestly—even when I’ve forgotten the vanilla that one time, it still got wolfed down. If you’re feeling a bit mopey or the weather’s a slog, this is pudding therapy. Oh, and I used to dread the custard bit; but now, I find I actually enjoy seeing it all soak in—you know, like a bread spa day.
Ingredients—And a Few Cheeky Swaps
- 6-8 slices of slightly stale white bread (but I’ve used brioche, croissants, or even hot cross buns after Easter—works a treat!)
- Butter for spreading (my gran only used Lurpak, but honestly, anything will do; don’t skimp though)
- 3 eggs (if you’re low, 2 still works, just slightly less custard-y)
- 400ml whole milk (I sometimes top up with cream if feeling fancy)
- 75g sugar (granulated, caster, even a sneaky sprinkle of brown sugar for depth)
- Handful of sultanas or raisins (or chopped dried apricots, or skip if you’re not into bits)
- 1 tsp vanilla extract (sometimes I use almond essence—just a dab)
- 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon (truth: I measure with my soul, not a spoon)
- Pinch of nutmeg (optional, but really nice—my mate adds chocolate chips instead, so go wild)
See, you can riff on the basics endlessly. Even vegan butter and oat milk get you very passable results.
Here’s How I Throw It Together
- Grab your bread and butter one side of each slice. You don’t have to be precise—if you miss a bit, that’s part of the fun.
- Cut each slice in half—either triangles or rectangles, zero judgment—and layer them, buttered side up, in a greased baking dish. Sprinkle a handful of sultanas between layers. (If you like a lot, add more. If you’re a raisin dodger, just don’t!)
- Crack the eggs into a bowl and whisk in the sugar, then the milk (and cream, if you’re going luxe). Add your vanilla and shake in the cinnamon and nutmeg, as slapdash as you like. I usually forget to pre-mix and end up with clumps, but never seems to matter.
- Pour this lovely custard over the bread. Press it down with the back of a spoon so everything soaks up. At this point, it might look a bit…well, mushy and odd. Don’t worry! That’s the ticket.
- Let it sit for at least 15 minutes, or as long as you can be bothered—sometimes I wander off to scroll online or make a cuppa (BBC Good Food has an ace basic custard guide, by the way).
- Bake at 170°C (325°F, gas mark 3) for 35-45 mins, or until puffed and golden. I usually check at 30 mins; poke the centre, and if it feels set-ish, it’s probably fine.
Notes and Things I Learnt (Sometimes the Hard Way)
- If your bread’s too fresh, it can go a bit soggy—toast it lightly first, actually. Makes a world of difference.
- I once used salted butter thinking it’d be fine. It was edible, but not what I’d call a roaring success.
- If the top looks too pale but the inside’s done, just whack the grill on for 1 min. But watch it—mine caught fire, so don’t stroll off.
Variations I’ve Tried (and a Cautionary Tale)
- Chocolate chips instead of dried fruit—kids love it, proper sugar rush!
- Slice up ripe bananas and tuck them in. Not everyone’s jam, but I’m a fan.
- Once tried stale sourdough—turned out weirdly chewy. Won’t repeat.
- Using marmalade or jam instead of butter on half the slices—absolutely delicious, but messy.
What You’ll Need—Or Improvise If You Must
- A baking dish (sometimes I just grab a Pyrex bowl—no drama)
- Mixing bowl
- Whisk or fork (use a clean hand if desperate, just saying)
- Knife, spoon, kettle for tea breaks
If you don’t have an oven, you could try the microwave, but the texture goes a bit ‘school cafeteria’—maybe comforting in its own way?
How to Store It (If You Even Get That Far)
This keeps in the fridge for 2-3 days in theory, but honestly, in my house it never even reaches breakfast time the next day. If you do have leftovers (lucky you), reheat in the microwave for 20-30 seconds, or eat it cold at midnight over the sink. No judgment—I do it all the time.
How We Serve This Pudding in My Clan
Straight out of the oven with a glug of homemade custard if I’m being good—or squirty cream from a can when laziness wins. Once in a blue moon, we’ll add a splash of Irish cream on top if there’s a bottle about. At my nan’s, it was always served with a mug of builder’s tea and arguments about whose turn it was to do the washing up.
A Few ‘Pro’ Tips I Learnt by Messing Up
- Don’t rush the soaking. I once tried to speed through, poured the custard, and rammed it in the oven. Ended up with dry corners and a weird, rubbery bottom. Lesson learnt.
- Stale bread really is best, and thicker slices make for chunkier pudding (in a good way).
- Try dusting with demerara sugar before baking for a crispy top—it’s not essential but I like the crunch (sometimes I forget, and nobody notices… so maybe don’t stress it).
Real-World FAQs Because People Actually Ask
- Can I freeze bread and butter pudding? Sort of. Texture goes a bit weird, but it’s doable in a pinch. I’d rather eat it fresh, personally!
- What bread works best? Whatever you’ve got, honestly! Brioche is lush, supermarket white is grand (just don’t use seeded loaves—tried that once, regreted it).
- Can I make it dairy free? Absolutely. Plant milks and vegan butter work. I think oat milk tastes closest, but experiment.
- Is it okay without eggs? Yeah, you can sub with a flax egg or even just skip—result’s more custard-less but still delicious.
Oh, before I forget—if you want inspiration on frugal home baking, Jack Monroe’s site is an absolute goldmine.
Now, time for a brew and a bowl, and a proper chinwag if you’re nearby.
Ingredients
- 8 slices white bread, crusts removed
- 50g unsalted butter, softened
- 60g raisins or sultanas
- 3 large eggs
- 400ml whole milk
- 100ml double cream
- 75g caster sugar
- 1 tsp ground cinnamon
- 1 tsp vanilla extract
Instructions
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1Preheat the oven to 180°C (160°C fan) or 350°F. Lightly grease a baking dish.
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2Spread the softened butter on both sides of the bread slices and cut them into triangles.
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3Layer the bread triangles and raisins in the prepared baking dish, sprinkling raisins between the layers.
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4In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, cream, caster sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla extract until well combined.
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5Pour the custard mixture evenly over the layered bread and allow it to soak for 10 minutes.
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6Bake in the preheated oven for 35-40 minutes until golden on top and just set. Serve warm.
Approximate Information for One Serving
Nutrition Disclaimers
Number of total servings shown is approximate. Actual number of servings will depend on your preferred portion sizes.
Nutritional values shown are general guidelines and reflect information for 1 serving using the ingredients listed, not including any optional ingredients. Actual macros may vary slightly depending on specific brands and types of ingredients used.
To determine the weight of one serving, prepare the recipe as instructed. Weigh the finished recipe, then divide the weight of the finished recipe (not including the weight of the container the food is in) by the desired number of servings. Result will be the weight of one serving.
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