In Yorkshire, on meeting my cousins for the first time when I was 32, the strange South African son of the brother who left for sunny climes, I was served a large, preening – so puffed up that it looked as though it needed to burp – Yorkshire pudding for my “tea”. It was filled with rich, dark brown gravy. And that was it, no roast beef and potatoes in sight.
My cousin Molly showed me how to make them, before I left a few days later. It was just the way my mom had taught me how to make them, years earlier. Once upon a time, my mother had made them in that very kitchen, in that very house, in Quaker Lane in the county’s West Riding, in the garden of which now, in an unmarked grave, lie the ashes of my mother and father.
When, as a lad in southern Africa, we took an annual tour by car of South Africa, we’d stop at hotels overnight. Occasionally there’d be Yorkshire pudding on the menu, served with roast beef. Which my dad would order, then fold his arms and watch the kitchen door waiting for his meal to be brought out. And look at his plate, arms still folded, and then say, while my mum and I tried not to giggle, “Bar shots! Look at this!” and beckon the hapless waiter, who’d be berated for his utter lack of any understanding whatsobloodyever of how a proper Yorkshire pudding should be made.
I don’t remember even once being served a proper, utterly lacking in humility Yorkshire pudding in any hotel, ever, and in time I became just as uppity with dining rooms or restaurants that purported to offer it with no evident understanding that a Yorkshire pudding is not a little flat rectangle of yellowish set savoury custard.
A Yorkshire pudding is a vessel for a filling. It stands high off the plate and holds what you pour into it. You don’t make a big one in a flat pan and serve it in slices. To make six large ones (in a large muffin pan) you’ll need:
Ingredients
4 large eggs which together, out of their shells, amount to 200ml when broken into a measuring jug
200ml full cream milk
200g plain flour
A generous pinch of salt
Cooking oil
1 muffin pan
1 very hot oven preheated to 240℃ or higher
Method
Preheat the oven to 240℃ for at least 15 minutes.
Once the oven is hot, pour a little oil into each muffin cavity and put it in the oven. Leave it to heat for at least 15 minutes. The Yorkshires will fail if the oven is not stinking hot when you put them in.
Measure the eggs, milk and flour into three separate measuring jugs.
Whisk the eggs, adding the salt, and pour into a baking bowl.
Add the milk and whisk continuously while sifting in the flour a little at a time. Whisk until all the flour has been added and the batter is very smooth.
Pour the mixture into a pouring jug.
Set aside to rest for at least 15 minutes. Longer is fine, up to an hour if you like.
When the oil is smoking hot, remove, close the oven door to prevent heat escaping, and quickly pour the batter into each cavity equally.
Put it back into the oven as quickly as you can, close the door and do not touch it for at least 15 minutes (you’ll notice that 200ml/g and 15 minutes are fairly key to this recipe). They may take up to 20 or 25 minutes, defending on your oven. Best to peek through the window with the oven light on.
Serve one or two with a magnificent rich reduction sauce for a deeply satisfying meal. Or be creative with all manner of potential fillings, depending on what you have to hand. If you come up with some interesting fillings for a Yorkshire pudding let us know at [email protected].
TGIFood Tip
Do not serve your Yorkshire pudding to a proper Yorkshireman. It will be wrong. DM/TGIFood
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