A Love Letter to My Bread and Butter Pudding

I came across this recipe at Tubby’s some 30 years ago, and I’ve made it thousands of times—literally. Today I still make it in the café I run. And every year we sell more and more. Last year alone, I sold over 2,500 portions. I have customers who travel over an hour just for it. I’ve even made it for weddings instead of a wedding cake—it’s been talked about in the groom’s speech! This pudding holds a special place in my heart, but more importantly, in the hearts of my customers too.

One particular wedding stands out. A man walked into the cafe one day, stopped in his tracks, and said, " I know that pudding" He'd had it years ago at Hobbs House Bakery, and when I left, he searched for it everywhere, never quite finding anything that measured up. When he finally found me again, he asked me to make it for his wedding. Later, he sent me the kindest message, telling me that in his speech, he called my bread and butter pudding 'Food of the gods'

Some recipes are worth hanging onto, and this is one of them. Over the years, I’ve refined it, tweaking the bread-to-custard ratio until it was just right. It’s not like the version your mum or your nan used to make. A lot of childhood food memories get turned into nightmares because dishes are cooked badly—overcooked, undercooked, or just plain stodgy. For me, I have a few of those food traumas! I hate strawberries—there, I’ve said it. It’s unusual, I know. When I was nine, living in Spain, we went to a BBQ at a neighbour’s villa. As soon as we arrived, I spotted a huge strawberry gateau. I pestered my mum until she gave in and asked if I could have a slice. I was elated—until I took a bite. The strawberries, which had looked so incredible, had been soaked in liqueur. I spat it out immediately, and to this day, I struggle to eat strawberries. If it was life or death, I’d force one down, but otherwise? No chance.

But back to bread and butter pudding. I haven’t made it everywhere I’ve worked, but I did make it at Hobbs House Bakery in the wood-fired oven, using their Sherston white loaf. It was perfect for it—baking beautifully in that oven. Today, I make it with leftover croissants, which work just as well. Over the years, I’ve tried everything—panettone, croissants, hot cross buns. I’ve experimented with different flavours too, but I can’t help myself—I like to keep things simple. I understand why chefs are always trying to reinvent the wheel. It’s exciting to experiment, to push boundaries. But when something is done well, it doesn’t need overcomplicating. That’s why I keep coming back to the original—because it is what it is.

Working With Paul at Hobbs

When we first opened the Nailsworth Hobbs House, the head chef was Paul Wojanski. Paul and I became great friends, and we still are to this day. You know those rare moments in a job when you work with someone and just click? That was us. I think Paul is a decade or so older than me, but when you truly connect with someone, age doesn’t matter. In my job, some of my best friends are still in their 20s and early 30s—because when you share the same passion and mindset, everything else fades into the background.

He was a gentle giant, 6’3”, kind, funny, and incredibly talented. We shared a love of all things food, and I have so many fond memories of working together. You know those moments when you giggle so much you have to leave the room to compose yourself? That was us. But beyond the laughter, I respected him immensely. He had great ideas, a real creative flair. His vision for the café was to make the best use of the bread we had—not just for the bakery counter but to weave it into the menu in creative ways, from desserts to patisserie. Inspired by that approach, I made treacle tarts with sourdough crumbs and, of course, my bread and butter pudding using their Sherston loaf.

I learned so much from Paul, but more than that, he believed in me. I was lucky to have both Paul and Tom (Herbert) at Hobbs, because they loved what I created. And that belief in my ability as a pastry chef spurred me on.

A Pudding That Stays With You

Over the years, I’ve had customers follow me from place to place—not in a creepy way!—but because they just love my bread and butter pudding. It has a pull, a nostalgia, a comfort that keeps people coming back. Some have made it a weekly ritual, and I’ve even had the odd marriage proposal over it!

There’s one customer I’ll never forget. A locally famous painter, who, when he found out he had terminal cancer, came into the café every single day for a piece of my bread and butter pudding. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s the truth. It was a part of his routine, a small comfort in his final months. Knowing that something I made could bring even a little bit of joy in that time—that will always stay with me.

The Future of My Bread and Butter Pudding

I’m not giving this recipe away for free—it’s too special. But I will be sharing it soon. I’m planning digital courses, Zoom bakery lessons, and one-on-one tutorials, and this pudding will have a place in them. Some recipes deserve to be passed on properly, taught with care and attention, just as I have made them for over 30 years.

Stay tuned. Big things are coming.