Lardy cake: a royal favourite

Lardy cake has a branding problem. We don’t mind puddings or cakes which explicitly announce their richness or decadence — death by chocolate, chocolate nemesis and devil’s food cake all remain popular. We actively embrace the hedonistic butteriness of croissants, along with brioche and puff pastry. Or consider the Betty’s Fat Rascal, which has achieved cult status despite (or because of) its unabashed fatty cheekiness.

But attach the word ‘lard’ and it’s a different story — a horror story. Those who wouldn’t think twice about accepting a hot cross bun or a piece of shortbread recoil at the prospect of lardy cake. ‘Lardy’ sounds inelegant, lumpen and, well, fatty. Even Elizabeth David said of the cake that ‘like every pack of cigarettes, every lardy cake should carry a health warning’.

It is safe to say that lard has resolutely fallen out of favour in baking and cooking. As it happens, lard actually has less saturated fat than butter, although that feels like a rather joyless way of approaching baking cakes and pastry. It also has lower water content than butter, which means that the things you bake with it are flakier, more tender, finer and more delicate: the very opposite of lumpen.

Lardy cake dates back to the mid-19th century, and almost certainly comes from the West Country, although it’s probably best not to attempt to pin down exactly where there unless you’re feeling particularly brave. The idea is simple: you use lard in place of butter to enrich a white dough. But lardy cake comes in many forms. Some are more like Chelsea buns, or monkey bread — individual portions designed to be torn apart. Others are closer to a cake, while others still are designed to be sliced and buttered like bread. In all of these forms, it is usually yeasted, sweetened, spiced, enriched with lard, filled with currants, raisins or sultanas.