Yorkshire Pudding

Mid-October and the foliage is past peak, which in Vermont means the tourists are thinning but the landscape is still extraordinary — subtler now, the brilliant reds gone and replaced by late-season russets and remaining yellows and the dark green of the spruce coming through. I prefer this stage, actually. The obvious beauty has retreated and what's left requires some looking.

I tapped one of the big maples yesterday just to check — not to run it, just to see what the season would do if it could. Nothing yet. The sap won't run until there are freeze-thaw cycles, nights below freezing and days above forty, which is March's business. But I like to check. It's a way of having a conversation with a tree.

Made beef stew this week, the big fall project — the recipe I've been making for thirty years with whatever adjustments the season and pantry suggest. This year: garden carrots and potatoes from the cellar, beef from the Hendersons' farm, red wine from a bottle I'd been saving, thyme from the dried bunch over the stove. It's the kind of dish that makes the house smell of itself for two days and is better the second day than the first. I sent a container of it to Ted Marchand, who called me afterward to say it was the best thing he'd eaten in months. I believe him, because it was the best thing I'd eaten in months too.

Finn started kindergarten this week — some version of it, in a hybrid situation that Sarah described with admirable patience. He loves it. He came home with a painting of a pumpkin that was deeply orange and slightly alarming and sent me a photo of it through Sarah's phone. I have it as my phone wallpaper.

The stew is the main event, but what I’ve learned after thirty years of making it is that it wants something alongside—something that can soak up the braising liquid and hold its own against all those root vegetables and wine. Yorkshire pudding is that thing. Simple batter, hot fat, a very hot oven, and patience while it rises: it’s the kind of straightforward kitchen project that suits a mid-October afternoon when there’s nowhere to be and the house already smells right.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

3 large eggs, room temperature
1 cup whole milk, room temperature
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
3 tablespoons beef drippings or vegetable oil

Instructions

Make the batter. Whisk eggs and milk together in a large bowl until smooth and well combined. Add flour, salt, and pepper, and whisk vigorously until the batter is completely lump-free. Let the batter rest at room temperature for at least 30 minutes—this is not optional.
Heat the pan. Preheat oven to 450°F. Add beef drippings or oil to a 9x12-inch baking pan or a 12-cup muffin tin—about 1 teaspoon per muffin cup. Place the pan in the oven and heat until the fat is smoking hot, 5—7 minutes.
Pour and bake. Working quickly, remove the hot pan from the oven and pour the rested batter evenly into the cups or pan. The batter should sizzle immediately on contact with the fat. Return the pan to the oven right away.
Do not open the oven. Bake for 20—25 minutes without opening the oven door. The puddings will puff dramatically and turn deep golden brown. They are done when the sides are set and crisp and the tops are richly colored.
Serve immediately. Yorkshire pudding deflates within minutes of leaving the oven, so bring the pan straight to the table. Serve alongside beef stew, roast beef, or any braise with plenty of pan drippings for spooning over.

Nutrition (per serving)

Yorkshire Pudding — The Proper Companion to a Fall Beef Stew