Every Christmas, people sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" without questioning the weirdest verse: "Now bring us some figgy pudding, and bring it right here. We won't go until we get some, so bring some right here." That's not a request—it's a demand with a threat.
But what even is figgy pudding? It's not pudding in the American sense—it's a dense, steamed cake packed with dried fruits, suet (beef or mutton fat), breadcrumbs, eggs, and enough alcohol to preserve it for months. It doesn't jiggle. It's more like fruitcake's drunk, heavier cousin.
The "figgy" part is misleading too. Traditional figgy pudding rarely contains actual figs. In medieval England, "figs" was slang for raisins and other dried fruits. So figgy pudding is really just "fruity pudding," but that doesn't sound as fancy.
The tradition of demanding it comes from "wassailing"—a medieval Christmas custom where poor people would go door-to-door singing carols and expecting wealthy families to give them food and drink. It wasn't optional. If you didn't provide hospitality, the wassailers might curse your crops or cause trouble.
Figgy pudding specifically became the demanded item because it was expensive to make and showed you had wealth. Dried fruits, spices, and suet weren't cheap. Demanding figgy pudding was essentially saying "prove you're rich enough to celebrate properly."
Making figgy pudding was also a whole family affair that took hours. Every family member had to stir the mixture while making a wish, always stirring clockwise to bring good luck. Stirring counterclockwise was believed to bring misfortune for the entire year.
The pudding would then be steamed for hours, soaked in brandy, and aged for weeks or even months. Some Victorian families made their Christmas pudding a year in advance and let it age until the next Christmas. The alcohol content kept it from spoiling.
On Christmas Day, the pudding would be doused in more brandy and set on fire before serving. The dramatic flaming presentation was supposed to represent the passion of Christ. Nothing says "birth of Jesus" quite like setting dessert on fire.
Today, most people have never tasted figgy pudding despite singing about it every year. We've kept the caroling tradition of demanding it but completely abandoned actually making or eating it. Funnily enough, we're all just threatening to camp out at people's doors for a dessert that nobody wants anymore.