A humble pudding creates a ruckus
Now that we’ve been on the subject of British food at Christmas, who’d have guessed that a little bit of crusty, puffy goodness would become the nucleus of a holiday controversy?
I can’t remember when I became interested in Yorkshire pudding; probably from an old boyfriend’s British mother decades ago, although I don’t remember her making it specifically. Nevertheless, in my teen years I bought a copy of the venerable culinary bible, A Joy of Cooking, and began making that recipe so often that eventually the page detached from the binding.
If you’ve never had Yorkshire pudding, it’s basically an unsweetened pancake-like batter roasted in hot fat (preferably beef drippings) until it puffs up with a delicious golden crust. It’s the perfect accompaniment to a beef roast, smothered in luscious gravy.
The Brits love Yorkshire pudding (and apparently so does everyone else on the planet – if you search the dish by name, you’ll find over 16 million results). But it seems they’re deeply divided on whether it belongs on a Christmas table. I suppose that can be blamed on Charles Dickens, who was more-or-less single-handedly responsible for turkeys being the main course of choice for a holiday meal in England.
Nowadays, though, a lot of people enjoy some variety in their Christmas nosh, and a great prime rib roast with ‘Yorkies’ is perfectly acceptable.
As far as anyone can tell, Yorkshire puddings arose in the 18th century — or at least that’s when they were first mentioned historically-speaking, in a best-selling cookbook called The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Simple. The recipe was referred to as a ‘dripping pudding’, as the batter was usually placed in a pan underneath the roast, which would then drip savoury flavours onto it. The pudding was served with gravy as an appetizer, meant to fill up tummies before the expensive meat was carefully parcelled out, or in poorer families as a main meal in itself.
I’ve read that the people of Yorkshire insist that the pudding be made in a single pan, but, heathen as it may be, I prefer making it in muffin tins – easy to serve, and everyone gets a full crispy exterior to enjoy. One of the great things about the dish is that the batter can, and should be made at least 30 minutes (and up to 12 hours) in advance. Then you just heat up the fat in whatever baking dish you’re using, spoon the batter in and roast until risen (I believe that the British term is ‘podgy’) and golden.
How beloved is Yorkshire pudding? I can’t speak for millions of people, but I can share a small personal anecdote.
When my hubby and I spent 15 days in Egypt for our 10th wedding anniversary, we thoroughly enjoyed all the local food – to a point. At the time, at least, we found that all the restaurants had a certain oily miasma tinged with garlic, and by the middle of our second week there we were longing for a change. Since we’d picked up our round-trip EgyptAir flight from London, we’d be spending overnight there on the way home, and we actually began discussing how great it would be to go to our favourite pub, the Museum Tavern across from the British Museum, and have roast beef with Yorkshire pudding. What were the odds that the pub would be serving it on cue? Well, a person could dream.
We arrived in London late in the afternoon, dumped our baggage at our hotel in Bloomsbury, within walking distance of the pub, and made a beeline there. And damned if they weren’t serving the very meal we’d been pining for, with buttered broccoli as a side. It was beyond delicious, and I think we may have even had apple cake with pouring custard and a cup of tea for dessert.
Yorkshire pudding has even made it onto the Masterclass canon. How’s that for cred?
Try one of the two recipes linked in this post, or any recipe you like; I’ve never had a bad version. Two requirements: the batter needs to rest for a while, because, according to Sainsbury Magazine, “this allows the starch to swell and absorb the liquid fully, which gives a lighter pudding when cooked”; and the oil must be hot so that the pudding puffs up beautifully.
Various fats can be used – I’ve made the dish with a mix of olive oil (the cooking oil I tend to keep on hand) and some butter if I want to get the pudding completed before I have to fiddle with the beef gravy (or I’m making a beef roast that doesn’t produce a lot of drippings). The preferred alternative fat is sunflower oil because of the high oven heat for baking, and I’ve seen canola oil suggested but I don’t like the stuff particularly.
I like making a beef roast for Christmas because it’s simple: season and stick in the oven. My hubby and I have had many adventures with holiday turkeys (some day I’ll relate the tale of “Mary Lou” the somersaulting bird), but I have made a lovely rolled and stuffed turkey breast that’s not too fussy. Holiday meals shouldn’t be so much strain on the cook that they don’t get to enjoy the actual meal, so I say: simplify the main dish, let a few great sides have their moment, and relax enough to share a good time with your guests. For my hubby and me, that’s what getting together for the holidays is about.
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