Yorkshire Puddings!

[CJSheffield]

Does your mother or grandmother profess to making the best ones in Yorkshire?

"Ee, I av t' scrape mine of'top er ovn!" - my gran's words.

[Guest teebee]

my mother makes the worlds worst yorkshire puddings, they look something like frisbees mine on the other hand "av t be scraped of'top er ovn"

[Plain Talker]

I have photographic evidence (sadly, I don't know how to post it onto the net ) of my Yorkie puddings, which rose astoundingly well - they were massive.

 

One Sunday, they had risen so massively, I flung the oven door open to show my father as he arrived for his lunch, and said, proudly

 

"pop, I'd like to introduce you to my pal the Yorkshire Pudding!"

 

Typically for a Yorkshireman, he said

 

"Ooh aye, them's alreyt!"

 

I was extremely proud of my achievement.

 

Poppa says, he can do pancakes fine, but is no good at Yorkies, whereas I'm great at making Yorkies, but I was not so good at doing pancakes.

 

Although now I've sussed the batter consistency better - a gnat's thinner than the Yorkie batter- and I have cottonned on to the pan needing to be sizzling hot, they have improved tremendously. They're not doughy and claggy at all, any more.

[CJSheffield]

My first feeble attempts at yorkies turned out like either flour soup or tooth-chipping biscuits.

Nut now I can fling the oven door open with confidence!

 

The pancakes? Still look like anemic scrambled egg, though.

[docmel]

Hi waitress, excuse me a minute, now listen,

I'm not finding fault, but here, Miss,

The 'taters' look gradely - the beef is a' reet

But what kind of pudden is this?

 

It's what? - Yorkshire pudden!, now coom coom coom,

It's what! Yorkshire pudden d'ye say!

It's pudden I'll grant you - it's some sort o' pudden,

But not Yorkshire pudden, nay nay!

 

The real Yorkshire pudden's a poem in batter,

To make one's an art not a trade,

Now listen to me - for I'm going to tell thee

How t' first Yorkshire pudden wor made.

 

A young angel on furlough from Heaven

Came flying above Ilkley Moor

And this angel, poor thing - got cramp in her wing

And coom down at auld woman's door.

 

The ould woman smiled and said 'Ee, it's an angel,

Well I am surprised to see thee,

I've not seen an angel before but thou'rt welcome,

I'll make thee a nice cup o' tea.'

 

The angel said 'Ee, thank you kindly I will,'

Well she had two or three cups of tea,

Three or four Sally Lunns, and a couple of buns -

Angels eat very lightly you see.

 

The t'owd woman looking at clock said 'By Gum!

He's due home from mill is my Dan,

You get on Wi' ye tea, but ye must excuse me,

I must make pudden now for t'owd man.'

 

Then the angel jumped up and said 'Gimme your bowl -

Flour and t'watter and eggs, salt and all,

And I'll show thee how we make puddens in Heaven,

For Peter and Thomas and Paul.'

 

 

Then t'owd woman gave her the things, and the angel

Just pushed back her wings and said 'Hush!'

Then she tenderly tickled the mixture Wi' t'spoon

Like an artist would paint with his brush.

 

Ave, she mixed up that pudden with Heavenly magic,

She played with her spoon on that dough

Just like Paderewski would play the piano

Or Kreisler now deceased would twiddle his how.

 

And when it wor done and she put it in t'oven

She said t'owd woman 'Goodbye',

Then she flew away leaving the first Yorkshire pudden

That ever was made - and that's why.

 

It melts in the mouth, like the snow in the sunshine

As light as a maiden's first kiss;

As soft as the fluff on the breast of a dove

Not elephant's leather like this!

 

It's real Yorkshire pudden that makes Yorkshire lassies

So buxom and broad in the hips,

It's real Yorkshire pudden that makes Yorkshire cricketers

Win County championships.

 

It's real Yorkshire pudden that gives me my dreams

Of a real Paradise up above,

Where at the last trump I'll queue up for a lump

Of the real Yorkshire pudden I love!

 

And there on a cloud - far away from the crowd

In a real Paradise, not a 'dud' 'un,

I'll do nowt for ever and ever and ever

But gollup up real Yorkshire pudden!

 

by R. P.Weston and Bert Lee (1940)

[chem1st]

I like that poem

[CJSheffield]

Wow! Thanks for that Docmel.

That's new to me. Brilliant!

[Tooeg]

My mother spent 3 or 4 days a week for 60 years feeding various members our family with yorkshire puddings. Each serving was accompanied with the comment. "I don't know what went wrong with these bloody yorkshires it must be the oven"

[Tooeg]

I like that poem

 

So do I

[davep]

We once had a cooker like that, but we got round to changing it !!!!