Christmas is supposed to be a time for family, so I was shocked yesterday to discover that my wife’s Auntie Bessie has turned against her, and now puts lactose in her frozen Yorkshire Puddings. I’m not sure what’s prompted this falling-out (unless she spotted us buying McCain oven chips that time) but it means we’ll have to resort to cooking Yorkshires from scratch on Wednesday.
In all honesty, I like to ‘cook my own’ at Christmas anyway, not just YPs but roast potatoes too. I use the “brief parboil/shake to roush up the edges/put ‘em in” method, and the duck fat generally crisps them up well – although no matter how diligently I place them on their edges, there’s always some that feel the need to cling protectively to the baking tray when it comes time to get them out. I of course cover up this fact by eating the ones with torn undercarriages myself.
As for the Yorkshires, I get the fat really hot and all looks well going in… but as the Puddings rise up and emerge from their recesses it always reminds me of those horror films where some hideous, unstoppable blob just keeps on coming. It may also be true (possibly a hangover from my bachelor days when the best way to make sure something was cooked was to leave it in the oven until it starts to burn) that they often stay in a little longer, and come out a little darker, than is strictly necessary.
Despite all that, though, there’s something about making the extra effort which seems entirely appropriate for the season. And I’ve not had any complaints so far. Well, not many. Well, nobody has offered to cook instead – so I’m going to take that as a win!
Andrew Curnow's Ramblings 