The Tea Boy is particularly partial to summer pudding.  Here, a summer pudding ice cream cake proves much of why I have the disposition and variant issues of never cooking the same thing twice (necessity being the mama of pretension or similar).

The now cleaned B movie bottle, tidied balsamic and a cerise wobbly mould were being returned to their cupboard of residence when a momentary lapse occurred.  It’s such a jolly silicone mould and is highly trained too. Nothing sticks to it, it bounces and boings rather than shatters and has many compatriots in the Silly cupboard (silicone to others)

The fine point of the screw top, cheffy bottle found me chasing the pattern in fruity balsamic. Like a child with a new toy it was hugely cathartic. Useless but cathartic, it amused the writer immeasurably with its mindlesness and globby dobby pattern which refused to do as its told. We all know people like that too eh? And as if on cue, the Tea Boy walked into the kitchen. “Whats that, it looks fascinating?”  The unaccommodating ground refused to swoop me up.

“Err Paisley” say I before thinking (not a rarity).

“Paisley, Ahh, Persian origins” No point in trying to blind him with science he’s despicably clever and knowledgeable.  One mentally flounders and then is swiftly inspired to bluff. Look up, smile, nod and carry on.

“It’s very decorative, around since 200AD quite amorphous isn’t it? Said he. Thinks: Amorphous – where the dickens did that come from? On he troughs about Jaquard whilst I punish and rack my now blistered brain.

Just as I felt on a slightly safer footing, he unwittingly played his ace.

“What’s it for?”   Many will read this and nod knowingly.  “It’s a surprise.”  Many more will appreciate how easy it is to use that old chestnut, shoot yourself in the foot and commit to an unanticipated afternoon of cooking or indeed far worse.

“Oh great I look forward to that then.” The idiot then says. “What makes you think it’s for you?”  “Ha Ha, it’s a summer pudding.” Said he as he tootled off.  An audible sigh of relief. Thinks: “Great idea, summer pudding yay!”

Blessed be the day I chose to rush around the garden like a lunatic in a downpour to harvest and freeze all the berries and brambles the day before the guys came to nuke the gardens, at the end of last year.

First layer: Berries and marscarpone whizzed with some agave, push through a sieve to remove seeds, taste, sweeten, taste again and again. Stop tasting!

Gently pour over balsamic globules and freeze.  Conjure some nonsensical twaddle about a work in progress of said surprise and live to fight another day.

Second layer: Take slices of brioche and douse them with some raspberry liqueur. (all together now ‘from last Christmases hamper from hell’).  Alcohol doesn’t freeze. Fingers are crossed.

Layer three: Every berry, cherry and currant that I could find remaining from last years impromptu harvest is then poured into the, larger than I had considered, wobbly cake pan.

Some good quality store-bought custard ( the aim is to get it into the food processor rather than all over the outside, see pic) with a pack of ‘fruits of the forest or summer fruits’ which found themselves tripping the light fantastic, whizzed, de pipped and sloshed over the top of said fruits, and whipped back into the freezer. Coincidentally, it happened to be the day before some chums were coming round for an alfresco supper.

In brevity, store bought frozen or canned berries, same of custard, a sliced brioche and drop of booze are all that’s needed to make an easy, less arduous version. A loaf tin with boozy brioche will do the trick with layers of berries and softened ice cream.