Nothing makes me feel more safe and comfortable than the smell of Sunday dinner cooking. If you remember one of my first posts, I talked about the formula Mom used to determine what she made for dinner each day of the week.
One of the Sundayist of Sunday dinners at our house was roast and Yorkshire pudding. (What is it about a traditional "Sunday Dinner" that requires a huge cut of meat?) I don't know if my mom's mom made this or where my mom got the idea of making them. I don't even remember when I first tasted them. If you were to present this dish to me as an adult I would say, "What in the world...? Do I butter this? Put jam on it?"
I was trying to explain to a friend the other day what Yorkshire pudding is. The best I could come up with was a popover. But he didn't know what a popover was either. He asked if it was like a cream puff -- I said that was pretty close. I suppose it could be a denser cream puff drenched in meat juice. Or "sauce" was the word Carter used when he tried convince his girls to eat it (he didn't try very hard because if they didn't eat it, all the more for him). It's actually baked with roast drippings in it too, so I wouldn't try pumping cream into these if you were looking for a cream puff recipe.
I don't make them very often because it's kind of pointless to make Yorkshire pudding if you're not making roast and I don't really like to make roast. And they always stick to the stupid cupcake tin no matter how much I grease it. But I love them. I can eat a lot of them. I had about 8 leftover from dinner last weekend so I ate them all week.