Crumble and Custard

As I've explained over the past few weeks, food has always been a big part of my identity and today, I thought I would look at one of my most powerful childhood memories associated with food - the crumble.

Even the word makes me salivate.

It's one of those onomatopoeic puddings like blancmange where you literally have to swallow each syllable.

Crum-ble...

The two sounds don't make sense in isolation but together they create something delicious which makes you lick the roof of your mouth at the end of it (just try saying the word crumble aloud and you'll see what I mean!).

So here it is, in all its beauty - the crumble...

For me, this traditional, heartwarming dish can only be made by one man - my grandad. The man I hold solely responsible for my sweet tooth. My grandad always used to make it for me and my sister when he was looking after us and whether it was apple, rhubarb or plum, it was always perfect! Sprinkled with plenty of sugar, in a ratio of at least 2:1 crumble to fruit and served with a vat of custard, this dish could never fail to impress. My family still laugh about a conversation I had with my grandad when I was 5 or 6 years old:

Grandad: "What would you like for dinner tonight Sam?"Me: "Umm...Apple crumble please."Grandad: "Just apple crumble?"Me: "Well, that's the only thing you can make grandad!"

My grandad chuckled to himself about that and gave me an extra serving of crumble that night. That's how I learnt that honesty is always the best policy!

Even when I go out to restaurants, if there's a crumble on the menu, it's been ordered before I've even looked at the mains. But still, it's never as good as my grandad's home-made stuff.

The peeled and chopped apples bobbing along in the water as you make the topping.

The rich smell of the butter as you rub it together with the flour and sugar, licking your fingers when you've finished.

"Accidentally" adding another spoonful of sugar into the chopped apples and then watching my grandad do the same.

Sitting in front of the oven and watching as the sugar starts to caramelise and the big brown bubbles of syrup erupt from its crumbling peaks.

The size of the gargantuan custard jug as its wheeled in on the dinner trolley, bearing that luminous yellow colour that only comes from Birds custard powder.

The moment of truth as my bowl of apple crumble is placed on my lap and followed by that enormous torrent of liquid gold.

The Everest of crumble is carefully balanced on the top of my oversized spoon and quickly devoured, without the slightest spillage of custard.

I get that warm feeling in my tummy as I feel the hot fruit and silky custard slowly making its way down to my belly.

I great big grin breaks out across my face as I look at the huge bowl of pudding still waiting to be eaten in front of me.

I look at my grandad and he has exactly the same grin on his face as he passes me another serving of custard.