A Yorkshire spring pudding that tastes like London calling home
Vivek Singh's somewhere in the back of your head when you're staring at forced rhubarb in March and a tin of sweetened condensed milk. This is what happens when you're homesick for London but stubborn about Yorkshire — reduced milk frozen into an ice lolly, rhubarb poached until it bleeds pink, cardamom threading through everything like a love letter. You can make proper kulfi here now. You just need time and a freezer.
Pour whole milk into a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Simmer low and slow for 90 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes so it doesn't catch. You're looking for it to reduce by half, turning a shade richer and thicker. Add the sweetened condensed milk in the last 10 minutes, fold through gently. It will smell toasty and sweet — that's when you know.
Crush your cardamom pods lightly with the side of a knife — don't pulverize. Stir into the hot reduced milk. Let it sit 20 minutes off the heat; the milk will cool slightly and drink in the spice. Strain out the pods through fine mesh. The liquid should be silken, pale brown, fragrant.
Pour the cardamom milk into kulfi moulds, lolly sticks, or small ramekins. Freeze for at least 6 hours, ideally overnight. If you're using ramekins, freeze solid then run briefly under warm water to unmould. This is the long breath — don't rush it.
Heat 300ml water with 100g caster sugar and 4 lightly crushed cardamom pods. Bring to a gentle boil, then simmer 8 minutes. The syrup will be pale and fragrant. Strain, discard the pods. Let cool to hand-warm.
Cut forced rhubarb into 5cm batons. Poach gently in the warm cardamom syrup for 8–10 minutes — it should soften but keep its shape and that violent pink. Don't stir; let it sit. The rhubarb will leach into the syrup, turning it rose-coloured. Cool completely.
Heat a dry pan over medium. Spread 120g pistachios on it, toast 3 minutes until fragrant — listen for them to crackle. Tip into a bowl. In the same pan, melt 100g caster sugar slowly (don't stir, just swirl) until amber and smoking faintly. Pour over the nuts, stir quickly with a wooden spoon, then tip onto baking paper. Cool completely, then bash into shards with a rolling pin.
Turn out your kulfi onto a chilled plate. Arrange poached rhubarb batons around it. Spoon a little cardamom syrup over. Scatter pistachio praline shards across the top, then add a small pinch of dried rose petals. Serve cold.
“Cold plate is non-negotiable. The kulfi sits centre, firm and creamy. Rhubarb batons lean against it like pink logs. Praline goes on last — it softens if it sits — scattered so you get a shard in most bites. A single light dusting of rose petals across the top; this is garnish, not confetti. Spoon some of that rose-pink syrup around the base. It looks modern, tastes old-fashioned, and sits happily between London and Yorkshire.”
Cold, creamy kulfi with a mouth-filling milky sweetness that coats the tongue. First spoonful takes you to cardamom, warm and spiced. Then the rhubarb — sharp, tart, almost clean against the silk. Praline shatters and brings nuttiness and a whisper of burnt sugar. Rose petals add a whisper of scent, not flavour. Finish is a cool cardamom echo with rhubarb tartness hanging back.
Replace whole milk with unsweetened oat milk (600ml) and the sweetened condensed milk with 400ml coconut cream. Reduce the oat milk by half over 90 minutes as before — it won't brown quite as much but will thicken beautifully. Fold in the coconut cream, then proceed with cardamom infusion, freezing, and all subsequent steps. The praline, rhubarb syrup, and rose petals remain unchanged. You lose nothing here — coconut and cardamom are long-time friends, and the kulfi stays silken.
Low alcohol, fizzy-light, floral — mirrors the rose and doesn't fight the cardamom
Tart berries against the creamy kulfi, red-on-red, zero fuss — pour it cold
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