The savoury cherries – Taste Scene

Gawd, but I love Yorkshire puddings. I love the weird alchemy involved with adding the batter to the hot fat; the way it sizzles and splutters.

I love the way they rise up and out of the muffin tins, some misshapen and sideways like toadstools and others straight as a dye.

I love the scent of the Yorkies baking, and the way the kitchen fills with their aromas of carby decadence.

I love them hot; crispy on top, and soft at the bottom.

I love them cold; dipped into thick gravy with a pinch of sea salt.

I love how easy they are to make – and yet they still taste like you’ve a Michelin star in your back pocket.

I love… I love.

Most of all, I love the way that Yorkshire puddings are often the best part of my Sunday dinner. Don’t get me wrong, all the various elements of a Sunday roast are good – but there’s something very special about a home-made Yorkshire pudding. They’re like the savoury cherry on top of a wonderful meal.

Traditionally know as ‘dripping puddings’, Yorkies only became ‘Yorkies’ in the late 1700s when The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy by Hannah Glasse was published.

The theory goes that the ‘Yorkshire’ prefix was added because of something to do with hotter temperatures in the county’s ovens due to it’s association with coal. The hotter temperatures apparently started the now ubiquitous rise.

Personally, I’ve never measured my Yorkshire puddings – I’m not completely mental! – but according to the Royal Society of Chemistry, ‘A Yorkshire pudding isn’t a Yorkshire pudding if it is less than four inches tall’.

Having said that, even if you make Yorkies and they only rise enough to peep out over the top of the muffin tray, they’re still going to be delicious. Dense, but delicious.

For the perfect Yorkshire pudding, there are two must-dos. First, you have to make your batter the day before you plan to use it, and second, the oil into which the batter is poured must be hot. Do those two things and follow this recipe to the letter, and you, too, will fall in love with home-made yorkies.

INGREDIENTS

Two eggs and one egg yolk

100g of plain flour

150ml of milk (full fat or semi-skimmed)

Goose fat or beef dripping or sunflower oil (I use goose fat)

Salt and pepper

THE PLAN

Make this batter the night before you plan to use it, and let it sit in the fridge, covered.

In a big bowl, dump in the flour and add the eggs. Pour in the milk, whisking as you go. When it’s all in, whisk away until you get rid of most of the lumps.

Pour into a jug, cover with clingy and bang in the fridge.

The next day, these Yorkies will be the least of your trouble when you’re making a roast with associated trimmings. First, remove the jug of batter from the fridge and season with a big pinch of salt and some freshly ground black pepper. Set aside. Pre-heat the oven to 210 degrees Celcius (230, if it’s not a fan oven) and as that’s happening, prepare the muffin tray. Spoon or pour almost a centimetre of the goose fat (or whatever oil you’re using) into each hole of the muffin tin (this recipe makes enough for eight yorkies so fill eight muffin holes).

Now, retire the muffin tin into the oven and allow the oil to get good and hot, about ten minutes.

At this stage, you have to work quickly. Remove the muffin tin containing the hot fat from the oven and set on a heat proof chopping
board or plate. Pour the batter from the jug into each of the muffin spaces right on top of the hot fat. It should sizzle and splutter.

Keep going until all of the spaces are filled and then return the tin to the oven.

Depending on the amount of batter in each space, these could take from ten to 20 minutes until they are risen and crispy as in the pictures – so keep an eye. This shouldn’t be difficult because they are almost hypnotic, rising up like leviathans out of the depths.

When risen and crispy, remove the tin from the oven and remove each Yorkie from the tin to drain of some kitchen roll. And that’s it.

Beautifully decadent and as sensual as a hot summer evening.

Simply wonderful.