Yorkshire meets South America: Dulce de leche Yorkshire pudding


A yorkshire pudding with dulce de leche

Dulce de leche Yorkies

I’ve been pestering Tim to do something with dulce de leche for months. But he wanted to do something original. I think this does it. And it’s fabulous.

This is great if you’re the kind of person that has six people suddenly descend on you for a proper supper on a school night, when your cupboards are bare. And you’re too polite to tell your guests to bog off.

(Assuming your bare cupboard holds a can of condensed milk, some flour and eggs.)

Dulce de leche is big in South America, also Spain and Portugal. And weirdly, this dish reminds me a little of those fantastic Portuguese custard tarts.

And Yorkshire Pudding is big in Britain, as a savoury, but was originally a pudding.

I like this clashing of continents, clashing of cuisines, to create a new idea.

Making the dulce de leche boiling a can of condensed milk

First, put your can of condensed milk, hidden in the recesses of your larder (ah if we could all have larders again) into a pan and cover completely with water. You’ll need to top it up occasionally with boiling water from a kettle.

Then make your Yorkshire pudding batter, in the way your mum told you. Or ask Delia. Or Heston. (Adding vinegar is good – no one seems to know why – if you do, let us know.)

The batter can stand while the condensed milk transforms into dulce de leche – about 2 hours.

making dulce de leche by boling a can on the hob

A can of condensed milk, from your bare cupboard.

Pour the Yorkshire pudding batter into a Yorkshire pudding pan, which has already been heating some oil, very hot. (Your mum did tell you about that, didn’t she?)

Frozen berries

Frozen berries, lurking in your freezer.

Cook the Yorkshire pudding until well risen, remove from the oven, and spoon some dolce de leche into each pudding, and spoon some around the top of the pudding. This will caramelize further when it goes back in.

Cook for a further 6 minutes at 190c until the dulce de leche starts to caramelise, going quite a dark colour. This will produce lovely crunch and slightly burned flavour.

Tim served this with some mixed berries, some of them smashed and blended into a coulis, with a little water.

Finished dulce de leche yorkshire pudding

Berry dulce de leche pudding

Berry pudding, very nice.


Succulent, sticky and cheaty.

Barbecued ribs in the garden

Barbecued ribs in the garden

Barbecued ribs – local pork and a cheating, store cupboard sauce

 I’m quite fond of the standard skinny ribs, but Tim prefers more meaty (I guess I prefer more sauce!) so we went for a test with 4 of each type from a local butcher here in Totnes.


 4 belly of pork ribs

4 pork spare ribs

4 dessertspoons of tomato ketchup

1 dessertspoon of Worcestershire sauce

2 dessertspoon of brown sauce

1 dessertspoon of set English honey

1 teaspoon of vinegar

fresh coriander

olive oil


black pepper

Two types of pork spare ribs

Pork ribs, times two

Spoonfuls of ingredients, and the made up sauce

The ingredients- the usual suspects.

Tim salted the pork to start, as he does with all white meats, usually he’ll salt for at least two hours, or overnight. Just before putting on the barbecue he basted them with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil.

Meanwhile, he made a cheat’s barbecue sauce by mixing together the store cupboard sauces and honey. Runny honey would have been easier, but the only English honey in the local co-op here was set.

As he happened to have a saucepan of water on the go (for a Dulce de Leche recipe to follow) he decided to reduce the sauce down over the pan, like a bain marie.

Spare ribs cooking on the barbecue

Spare ribs cooking on the barbecue

He cooked the ribs over the barbecue, and and took them off half way through, to rest, and to prick with a fork. The juices that came out of the pork in the resting process went into the barbecue sauce mixture. He then poured the barbecue sauce over the ribs.

After about 20 minutes he finished the ribs off on the barbecue, and serviced sprinkled with coriander. For him, the jury’s still out.  For me, hmm, belly of pork great, but I do like the skinny ones a little bittie bit more – more barbecue sauce for square cm.

Both succulent, sticky, and slightly cheaty.

Totnes, twinned with Narnia

Totnes twinned with Narnia

This sign, ‘Totnes twinned with Narnia’,  first appeared in 2006. I don’t know whether every so often the council change it back to the French town it’s meant to be twinned with. But apparently this version of the sign reappeared March this year – I know we saw it then.

Totnes is a fascinating place – it seems to welcome all forms of belief, encompassing traditional and alternative churches to the most whacky pseudo sciences – and loads of holistic stuff in between. No one would bat an eyelid at courses on consulting your angels, discovering your planetary soul group or healing through unicorns. Well, some might.

And it seems the range of food is just as all encompassing. The Totnes Food Market is held regularly – it was such a busy, buzzy market I assumed it must be a bit of a special occasion, but it’s on every month.

Save water, drink wine.

The tapas man.

On our latest visit we bought beautiful skinny, multi-coloured carrots, the muddiest maris pipers, English saucisson sec, all manner of smoked meats, a pheasant, veal and vension. We took home a fabulous coffee flavoured vegan cake made with sweet potato, potted mackerel pate, and two types of specialist bacons – one without added nitrites – but more on that later.

There were several street food stalls – tapas with seafood, Thai dishes, a guy selling from a vat of some kind of French casserole, and endless slightly hippy forms of food. Plus the occasional waft of skunk – coming from customers – not a stall.

Thai stall

Thai stall

Garlic, and street food.

The egg man.

I am the eggman.

A fish stall.

A meat stall

A cake stall

There were sugar-free cordials, Himalayan and Cornish salts, local cheeses, habanero peppers, handmade chocolate truffles and puffy meringues. We bought elderberry wine (14%) and Kiwi and chocolate wine – sadly there’s no corkscrew in the house so we haven’t opened those yet.

We were going to try some rabbit, but we made the mistake of leaving it until we’d looked around, and when we went back the chap had sold out. Seems people have been listening to Clarissa!

It’s well worth a visit.

The last cake

The last cake. They did well.

Boned Guinea Fowl with a sneaky sauce.

Google Instant delivers search results before you’ve finished typing them. If you start to type ‘how to bone a guinea fowl’ into Google Instant, you get unexpected results by the time you get to “How to bone a gu..”. Some Not Safe For Work. I wonder who the ‘tall guy in the shower’ actually was? And who needed to know the answer?

I needed to look  up the boning process because Tim de boned his guinea fowl without me watching every move – I got a bit squeamish and wandered off whilst he was doing it.

After deboning, he stuffed the bird with some pequillo squash, roasted garlic, onions and thyme.


For the stuffing


Guinea Fowl


Pan frying the guinea fowl


Pan frying the guinea fowl

Whilst the bird was cooking, he knocked up (is there a theme developing here?) an instant chocolate sauce, using Toblereone. The results were surprisingly good, dark, not at all sweet, with satisfying occasional crunches of nuttiness. He plated up the sliced boned guinea fowl with some cous cous, and melting goats cheese.


Plated up with cous cous, goat’s cheese and toblerone sauce


Melting goat cheese and sneaky toblerone sauce to finish