Popovers, Hockey Pucks & Roast Beast

For most of my childhood, the main constant was the Sunday night "roast beast" dinner. We either had it at home with all the family there, Mom and Dad, Robyn and Jay and I, or we went to my Mom's parents' house, the English side of the family.

"Roast beast dinner" had variables and constants. There were always vegetables of some kind; if my mom was cooking it would be peas or corn or carrots or parsnips or sometimes brussel sprouts, all cooked to perfection and unadorned, but if Grandma was cooking it would be overdone peas in butter (bleh!). The constants were the roast beef itself, mashed potatoes, rich salty gravy and popovers

At this point, most people ask me what on earth a Popover is. They are more commonly known as Yorkshire Puddings, but in my family Yorkshire Pudding is made with the same recipe and poured into one big pan. The individual little cups of bready goodness are called "Popovers" if made properly, when they form a little cup and flip sideways in their muffin pan, or called "Hockey Pucks" if they are made incorrectly and come out slightly hard and quite flat (and occasionally very hard and very flat).

Popovers in the process of popping

It is quite a feeling of accomplishment the first time you get Popovers, avoiding the shame and ridicule of Hockey Puck. My Grandpa taught my Mom (his eldest daughter) the secrets to making perfect popovers and she taught me (her eldest daughter) in turn (I'm not going to spill all but the secrets include bacon grease, heated eggs, correct and ever changing temperatures, and impeccable timing). First you start out as a Popover Assistant, greasing the pans, pulling them in and out of the oven with precise timing to the imperious calls of the Popover Master, and tilting the bowl for the Master to scoop the precious last bits of batter into the piping hot pan. The Assistant is offered gradually increasing responsibility until one day the Master acts as the Assistant, which is the final test. If the result is Popovers, you graduate to the rank of Popover Master. If you get Hockey Pucks, you are benched for a while then sent back to training camp.

Pretty darn good Popovers coming out of the oven.

(Note the front left and rear right puddings that didn't pop. These were the last cups to have batter poured in and therefore were not warm enough to get the propper popover shape. )

I can't remember the first time I ever saw Popovers made, the first time I assisted, or how old I was when I graduated to Popover Master (maybe 14?). I do remember looking down at my first set of perfect popovers right before popping them out of the pan and the pride I felt when serving them to my family. I have made popovers for friends and boyfriends, my husband and my husband's family (which may be the only thing I have ever managed to do that impressed my father-in-law who is quite the cook. He said I made them "just like the little old English ladies do." A rare compliment indeed.) Since Paul and I were married I have begun training him as a Popover Assistant (although I'm not sure that we started young enough for him to ever graduate, that's okay though because he makes fabulous mashed potatoes) and you can bet our kids will receive the best in Popover training, watching my Mom and I in our intricate popover making dance that invariably leads to perfect popovers.

A pair of popovers with butter, gravy and a sprinkle of salt.

It's no wonder this is my favorite meal.