Every year my husband and I drive up to Vermont with our two kids to spend Christmas with my in-laws. We only celebrate Jewish holidays in our own home, but we love participating in what have become treasured family rituals. Among the traditions we can always count on: each member (and there are now 10 of us, including the grandchildren) gets socks, chocolates, and a random tiny plastic figurine in their stockings. We drink coffee and open presents before eating a breakfast ofperfectly-scrambled eggsand locally-sourced bacon or sausage—plus mini croissants sourced from the closest Hannaford's. And for dinner we always, always haverib roastwith Yorkshire pudding.
我不认为我曾经尝过约克郡布丁before I had it at my husband's parents' house, but I'm now one of the tradition's most fervent supporters. Crisp around the edges, light and fluffy on the inside, my mother-in-law's version of the dish is cooked in a rectangular baking pan—like the ones you'd make brownies in. (And as withbrownies, the inside pieces are always the best. [Ed. note: Seriously?]) Flavored with drippings from the roast, the savory pudding has just the right amount of eggy richness. Plus, Yorkshire pudding just sounds so...charmingly Dickensian.
According to British food historian Annie Gray, Ph.D., this association isn't off-base. Yorkshire pudding "appeared on Christmas menus throughout the 19th century," Gray says. "And today it's basically obligatory with beef." The pudding was traditionally cooked underneath a roast, where it would catch the drippings as the meat cooked. Serving the rich, pillowy dish was also a way to to fill guests up and stretch the costly main course—an early example of#wasteless-style frugality. (Today Yorkshire pudding is less prevalent on British holiday tables, Gray explains, as beef has fallen out of favor for the Christmas meal and been replaced by—as she puts it—"tedious turkey.")
My mother-in-law can't remember how the tradition started, but she has been making this particular recipe, which comes from esteemed food writer Craig Claiborne's 1961 edition ofThe New York Times Cookbook, every Christmas since she and my father-in-law were married more than four decades ago. Today the Yorkshire pudding recipe is well-thumbed, its cherished status clear from the stains splashed across the page. And every year, as we bustle around, mixing cocktails and nibbling hors d'oeuvres and dodging the children underfoot, it is only when the pudding is lifted out of the oven, puffed and golden brown, that the family knows it's time to sit down and eat.
