Meals on Blogs

When I was a kid, it was always my job to make the Yorkshire Puddings for Sunday lunch - as a family, we really liked Yorky Puds, and so we had them with any roast. Not just beef.

One of the reasons we liked them so much is that I was a wizard with the batter - I’m really not being big-headed here, I was brilliant at them. Never a failure, and over the years I got to the stage where I never even had to measure out the ingredients.

But, somewhere along the way, something went wrong.

Over recent years, my Yorkshire Puds have flopped. I just haven’t been able to deliver. I’ve tried all sorts of different ‘foolproof’ recipes, all to no avail.

Last Sunday I was determined to nail it once and for all. I went back to my old recipe:

6oz plain flour
2 large eggs (1 will do if you like a drier, crustier pudding)
salt
about half a pint of milk (I use semi-skimmed) to make a thinnish batter

I heated some sunflower oil for 15 minutes in a baking tin in the oven with the roast - let’s not mess about with individual puddings - whacked up the temperature to 220 degC (gas 7) when I took the meat out. I put the tin on a ring on the hob and poured in the batter quickly. It sizzled a bit, but worryingly little.

Guess what?

The pudding puffed up to perfection. Light, crunchy on the outside, and soft (not soggy) on the inside.

It was simply the best Yorkshire I’ve cooked in years.

What made the difference?

My theory is I let the batter sit in the fridge for nearly an hour before cooking. I’d been listening to those people who tell me to leave it for just 15 or so minutes. Although I don’t think it’s time that’s the important thing; it’s getting the batter really cold, so there’s as much difference in temperature between the batter and the oil as you can get.

Now all I have to do is repeat my success a few times, and I’ll be back on the rails.

Tonight, we’re having roast beef and all the trimmings. That means it’s time to dig out my dog-eared copy of Floyd on Britain and Ireland, a paperback I’ve had for 20 years, and is long out of print.

Keith Floyd is one of my culinary heroes. Yes, I know, but that’s my thing and you won’t change my mind.

His recipe for roast beef is a thing of wonder. I’ve followed advice from many other chefs and cookbooks, but I always come back to this one. It’s bombproof, as far as I’m concerned (see my slightly careless variations on the blueprint), or as Floyd himself puts it:

My personal way of roasting beef that never fails is to rub into the fat a combination of two tablespoons of flour, one tablespoon of mustard powder and plenty of freshly-milled black pepper…

I actually add salt as well and rub the mixture all over the joint to make a crust that holds in all the delicious juices.

Make sure the joint is at room temperature before you start, and pre-heat the oven to gas mark 6, 200C or 400F. Floyd recommends you use beef dripping to brown the joint in a frying pan; I never have beef dripping, so I use whatever oil I have to hand.

He recommends the beef is put on a rack in a roasting tin; I usually put it straight in the tin or raise it on some halved onions, which can help the gravy. Whichever way, make sure the fat is uppermost.

After 20 minutes, lower the temperature to gas mark 3, 160C or 325F. Cook for a further 15-20 minutes per pound, but you should really invest in a meat thermometer to get the joint just how you like it.

Floyd says you should baste the joint regularly; I can’t be bothered.

Remove the joint from the oven when cooked, cover with foil and keep warm. Increase the oven’s temperature to finish your roast potatoes and cook your Yorkshire pudding(s).

I’m very excited by this. You see, my wife loves computer games and spends hours of her spare time glued to the screen.

It’s OK. I can watch what I like on the TV, play jazz on the hi-fi or just read a book, undisturbed by any opposing tastes. But sometimes I like to prise her away for lunch, even if she’s really engrossed.

Today, though, I came up with a great idea. Take two slices of bread, butter them, lay a slice of roast beef on one and the cover the beef with the other slice of bread, butter side down. Then Sam can carry on playing, interrupted, and still have something to eat.

I’ve called it a Rosam, in her honour.

Trouble is, I’ve just been told some chap called John Montagu may have got there first, dammit.

Last night I wrote the second of my ‘Essentials’ blogs. Today, I find no less than Marco Pierre White puts me right:

When cooking I don’t always season with salt, especially when it comes to meat. Instead, I like to season using chicken stock cubes (Knorr is my preference). I add a pinch or two when cooking all meat sauces and gravies and also when making vegetable soups. Firstly, this is more forgiving than salt and, secondly, when finishing sauces you don’t have to reduce them so much to reach their desired flavour…

Marco Pierre White in Hell’s Kitchen, page 11.

Along with Dry White Vermouth and Ruby Port, my other essential standby for sauces and gravies is Marigold Vegetable Bouillon. Added as vegetable stock (made with hot water) or as a pinch or two stirred into lower volumes, it somehow brings flavours together.

Aside from its inherent saltiness, there’s little to criticise. Nothing unpleasant like most stock cubes, and because it’s vegetable in origin, it works happily with meat and fish dishes, too.

There are two types available, an Organic variation as well as the ordinary one. Strangely enough, the two recipes are very different. My choice? Difficult one this. I’m always going backwards and forwards - FWIW, I have the Organic one in my cupboard at the moment.