All right fair viewers, are you ready for my most favorite-est memorized recipe? Very well. gets up from his chair which rolls away and a blackboard rolls in at the same time showing the recipe] As you can see, simplicity. Two large eggs, one cup of whole milk, four and three-quarter ounces of all-purpose flour—that's by weight. Would be a cup by volume. A tablespoon of butter, melted, and a teaspoon and a half of kosher salt, all at room temperature.
2 LARGE EGGS
1 C. WHOLE MILK
4¾ AP FLOUR
1 Tbs. BUTTER (MELTED)
½ tsp. KOSHER SALT
So what do we have? Well as you can tell by the high liquid to dry ratio, this
is a batter, and a very wet one at that. That means it will be capable of
generating a large amount of steam. Now, because it expands so dramatically and
carries so much energy with it, steam is ideally suited to performing work.
[on the floor] In fact, steam can power massive factories, drive nuclear submarines, generate electricity, and propel this amazingly cool steam-powered robot.
AB: [speaking to the robot as it passes] Tokyo is that way, big guy.
Hmm. So what else do we know? Well, we know that the batter contains two structural elements or what we call "strengtheners": the proteins in the egg whites and the starch in the flour. Of course, different types of flour also contain different amounts of proteins, so which flour you buy matters.
GUESTS: Weightlifter #1, #2 and #3
[AB stands in front of a painted scene of the beach where 3 men have their heads and hand poking through, below their heads are painted 3 weightlifters holding up various sizes of weights and in various body types from weakling #1 to super strong #2, to medium build #3]
You know, in a way, flours are like weightlifters, okay? Now, let's take a low-protein flour, like pastry flour. It is structurally very, very weak. And baked goods that it produces, are extremely tender.
AB: Hey, you remember when the mommy deer dies in "Bambi"?
WEIGHTLIFTER #1: [the weakest of them all bursts into tears] Mommy!
AB: Yeah, yeah. Go, go get yourself a hankie.
All right, high-protein flours, on the other hand, like bread flour, produce structures that are strong and tough. Watch this.
AB: Hey, you remember the last five minutes of "Old Yeller?"
WEIGHTLIFTER #2: [the strongest of the 3, shakes his head and snorts]
AB: No? Okay, what about "Brian's Song"?
Wow, that is tough. And that would be great if we were dealing with a high-gluten dough like you would put into a French baguette, you know? That's not where our ingredient list is leading us today. No, today, we need the perfect mixture of both worlds. We need a flour that is strong but tender, like, say, all-purpose flour.
AB: Okay, you remember, oh, Jim Brown gets gunned down at the end of "The
WEIGHTLIFTER #3: [shakes his head "yes", but shows no other emotion]
AB: No? Okay. How about of end of "Tombstone," when Doc Holliday's dying of T.B. in that sanatorium, and he says, "Wyatt, if you were ever my friend, leave and don't come back." Remember? Remember? Remember?
WL3: [starts to tear up, but does not bawl like]
See? Strong but tender. That's all-purpose flour, and it's perfect for this application. Hang in there, big guy.
[at the refrigerator] While we're on the subject of strong and tender, let's consider eggs, the perfect food. They are tenderizers, of course, because of the fat content of the yolk, and they are strengtheners, because of the powerful and flexible proteins contained in the whites, or albumins.
[AB turns to put the eggs in the blender blender]
THING: [slowly lowers a sign]
[AB continues to all of the ingredients and then blends them up]
2 Large Eggs, Room
Just as we suspected, a batter. But now that we have it, what do you think we can make with it, hmm?
T: [shows another sign above AB's head]
AB: [AB turns, but does not see it] Sorry.
Um, a cake perhaps? No, there's nowhere near enough fat in there. And besides, cake batters usually contain more flour than moisture. Uh, pancakes? Nah, no leavening, or is there?
As you can see in this microscopic view, there are bubbles, plenty of them, albeit small.
Hmm. You know, if one was to apply high, fast heat to this, all that water might
just turn to steam and quickly expand inside the batter. And if the egg proteins
were to coagulate and the starches and the flour gelatinize and the milk sugars
caramelize at just the right time, well, what do you think?
[camera pans up to a large crepe pan] Hmm? Yeah? Hmm. Okay, then.
[AB cooks the batter as he might a crepe, with disastrous results]
Okay, what did we learn? Uh, this batter is too stiff and thick to be a crepe, but not thick enough to really be anything else. It seems that too much surface area may have dissipated any lift the mixture may have commanded. What's next? Hmm?
The first cookbook with a recipe for our "mystery" dish dates to 1876.††
GUEST: "W", Equipment Specialist
AB: "W", I need a pan.
W: All right, "You're obnoxious entirely."
AB: Hah hah. Actually, I wasn't thinking so much of a critical review as I was a cooking implement.
W: Well, what kind of pan?
AB: You know, I'd rather not say.
W: [visibly annoyed] Well, what are you cooking?
AB: Ah, well, that I can tell you. I'm cooking two eggs, one cup of whole milk, four and three-quarter ounces by weight of all-purpose flour, a tablespoon of melted butter, and a teaspoon and a half of kosher salt, blended.
W: You want a crepe pan?
AB: Crepes? Two eggs and one tablespoon of butter? I think not. Look, I need something that can absorb heat quickly and provide a launching pad for vertical velocity. [as he sarcastically waves his hands] Yeah? Okay? Vertical?
W: Uhh! You're going to make ...
AB: Don't say it. Just lead the way.
W: I think this may be what you're looking for.
AB: Ah, these are funky-looking muffin tins.
W: Only the cups are deeper with steeper sides.
AB: Right. Heavy, too.
W: Mmm, for better heat absorption. Oh, and notice on this pan. The cups pop out for easy cleaning, or you can use it as molds for other things. In other words, a multitasker.
AB: Oh, I like that.
W: I also have it in a heat resistant, nonstick silicone model.
AB: Wow, that's certainly fun to play with. But you know, silicone is technically an insulator, so that's probably not going to do the thermal job that I need. And this, [pointing to the pan with the cups that pop out] this is very nice. But that non-stick surface is dark and it tends to lead to over-browning on the food. So I think I'm just going to go with this standard guy. Besides, you see the shape of this lip? That's going to make a very pretty ...
AB: Oh, yeah, you're right. I almost said the word...
AB: Yeah, I get it. You don't have to keep doing that ...
W: SHUT IT! [grins as AB exits]
The first pans made for our "mystery" dish were
composed of cast iron and called "cornbread pans".
GUESTS: Three recipe writers
Our hotbox is set to 400 degrees, and I have lubed the cups of the pan with a little bit of butter. Now since we're expecting quite a bit of expansion, I dare not fill these more than halfway. Oh and I should say, although we've taken certain liberties with timing for the sake of television, you would not want to whip up this batter until the oven and the pan were ready to go. And I'll tell you right now, that flies in the face of the opinions of many recipe writers who insist on letting the batter sit for ...
RECIPE WRITER #1: ... two hours at room temperature.
RECIPE WRITER #2: ... overnight in the refrigerator.
RECIPE WRITER #3: ... two days, under the bed, in the guest room.
AB: You know, this particular application is best suited to immediate baking.
RW1: You won't get enough gluten.
AB: I don't want much gluten.
RW2: Your flour won't be hydrated.
AB: Yes, I know that. But you know what? If I wait, I lose all of my bubbles.
RW3: These are going to be terrible pop ...
AB: [at the oven] Right into the middle of a 400-degree oven for 40 minutes. And no peeking, or you will impede your inflation. Don't you people have your own kitchen? Go on. Get out of here.
So, knowing what we know about milk, eggs, flour, and the ratio thereof therein, what can we hypothesize about what's going on in there right now?
[at the blackboard with a diagram of a popover cup, containing batter] Well, I think it is safe to say that the high heat of the oven is rapidly penetrating the metal cups, causing the batter at the sides and bottom to rapidly set, a process aided by the fact that we started with room-temperature, rather than cold ingredients.
Now this traps the batter bubbles, which begin to expand in the only direction they can go, upward. Now here's the cool part. The ratio of liquid to starch and protein is balanced so that as the top of the rising batter sets and splits and sets and splits, just enough downward pressure is produced to force the bubbles inside to fuse together into one über-bubble.
This bubble continues to push up and out, stretching what is essentially a hollow blister, until equilibrium is reached between the expansion of the steam and the elasticity of the batter, which then sets in the final expanded position. We call the resulting devices popovers! [reveals the name of the episode "Popover Sometime", written on the refrigerator blackboard] If there's a more versatile baked good on the planet, I don't know what it is. Get it? Popover some ... pop ...oh, never mind.
40 minutes later ...
[at the oven] Ahh. Ahh, beautiful aren't they? But if
their lofty countenance is to continue, we must act quickly. Come, darlings.
Behold the beautiful paradox of the popover. The outside, [picks up a hot one] ahh, is crunchy, golden brown and delicious because, of course, the proteins and starches were cooked by the dry heat of the oven. Inside, however, it is a different story. [cuts one open] The inner walls of this big bubble are soft and moist, and that's because steam did the cooking. But this can also become a problem. If this moisture remains inside, it'll eventually condense and turn gooey. So it is important that as soon as you can handle these things, that you vent them. Just find a little crag in the top, and kind of punch a little hole in it with a paring knife or a skewer. That'll allow that excess vapor to go out and that'll keep these shelf-stable for, well, at least a couple of days if they are sealed in a plastic bag.
Now those of you unfamiliar with popovers may be wondering, what's so great about a big hollow dinner roll?
[at the table] Well, for one thing, popovers are delicious. And since they are fast, they are a fantastic replacement for dinner rolls, which are usually heavy, not to mention time-consuming. But, because popovers are hollow on the inside, they can house a host of things. Perhaps you'd like to butter one up and fill it with a luscious broth, or perhaps chicken salad, or chocolate pudding, lemon curd—that's a great idea. Fruit? Why not? In other words, a popover is a bread, it is a serving vessel, it is both. Now, this amazingly convenient device, not too surprisingly, is an American invention. But it was born of old English ancestors.
To reheat the next day, place directly on the middle
rack of a 400 degree oven for 3 minutes.
[reading the fictitious book, "The Big Book of Culinary Lore"] Hah! You know, food words are funny things. Did you know that in modern-day England, the word "pudding" doesn't always mean "pudding" per se? In fact, it can refer to any dessert item. That certainly sheds some light on this mysterious Pink Floyd-ism.
SPIT JACK GIRL: [while turning the spit] If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding. How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?
But there was a time when pudding meant just about anything that was boiled or
baked. Now in his 1577 blockbuster, "A Description of England," William Harrison
wrote, "Each part of the country has its own puddings. Devonshire, white cloud.
Gloucestershire, bag pudding. Hampshire, hasty pudding. Worcestershire, black
pudding, and Yorkshire, Yorkshire pudding". Yorkshire, of course, a region on
the northeastern coast, just below North Umbria.
Now back in the Middle Ages up in these parts, meat, fresh meat at least, was actually pretty hard to find.
SJG: Especially since father went to the gallows for poaching a hare in
AB: Oh, that's, uh, that's very sad.
When large critter hunks or joints were
available, they were generally cooked on a spit. Not over the fire, but just in
front of it. Flavorful drippings, just rendered fat, were captured in a pan here
on the hearth. Now somewhere along the way, a thrifty cook figured out that a
little meat would seem to go a lot further if it was served with something else
that was, well, kind of meaty. So the pan with the fat was placed onto the fire,
and when the fat sizzled, a batter was poured directly onto it and baked.
Now let's go take a look at an authentic 18th century recipe for Yorkshire Pudding.
AB: [to the SJG] Keep turning, kid. It ain't done yet.
Four eggs, two cups of milk, nine ounces of flour—that's two cups for the volumetrically minded—a teaspoon and a half of kosher salt, and a quarter of a cup of meat drippings, two tablespoons of which will be left in the pan. In other words, it is almost exactly double everything in our popover procedure. The only real difference is the use of drippings instead of butter. Of course, we could use butter instead of drippings, but then we wouldn't be making Yorkshire pudding now, would we? First, the meat.
4 LARGE EGGS
2 C. WHOLE MILK
9 OZ. AP FLOUR
1½ tsp. KOSHER SALT
¼ C. MEAT DRIPPINGS
[at the oven] Ahh. Here we have a nice three-bone standing rib roast. Very nice.
Now technically, any roast fatty enough to give you a few tablespoons of
drippings will do. But beef or lamb or mutton, if you can get it, are indeed
preferable. Now, as you extract the meaty goodness, go ahead and boost your box
The meat will, of course, need to rest. So shift it over to a cutting board and cover it with a nice big piece of heavy-duty aluminum foil. That will certainly keep it warm while the Yorkshire pudding bakes.
Now you're going to probably have a quarter of a cup of drippings left. Two tablespoons of that, and that's one ounce, will need to go directly into the blender. Whatever, you know, remains in the pan can go back into the oven. But you're going to want to move the rack up to the middle position before reinserting the pan. And odds are, as this gets hot it's going to create a little smoke. That's okay. It's completely normal.
|2 Tbs. Beef Drippings|
As to the batter, two cups of whole milk at room temperature are followed by four large eggs, also at room temperature. Nine ounces of all-purpose flour—that's two cups by volume—and, of course, one and a half teaspoons of kosher salt go in. Lid that up and let it blend for about 30 seconds, until it's nice and fluffy and frothy. You may have to scrape down the carafe, depending on the design of your particular model. There.
2 Cups Whole Milk, Room
4 Large Eggs, Room
9 Ounces All-Purpose Flour
1½ tsp. Kosher Salt
[back at the oven] Ahh. Now carefully pour in the batter and bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until the device is puffy and golden brown. And again, no door opening, lest deflation be your aim.
[later] Ahh. Now ‘tis best to work quickly. As soon as the Yorkshire pudding is
out, go ahead and cut your roast beast. I do like a standing rib roast. And I
like to leave the bones intact so that you've got something to hold onto. Now
see, this ought to be just enough for two people. Yeah, that's good.
Traditionally, Yorkshire pudding is cut into squares, but I prefer to just tear off chunks of it, and serve it alongside slabs o' beast.
SJG: So, what's for puddin'?
AB: Oh, this is the puddin'.
SJG: You know what I mean.
AB: Yeah, I know what you mean, but that's another show.
SJG: You always say that.
AB: Eat your dinner.
Yorkshire pudding was originally called dripping pudding
in the 1737 book, The Whole Duty of a Woman.
GUESTS: Dutch Man, Dutch Woman, and Dutch Baby
[early morning] Popovers make a great luncheon item. And of course, Yorkshire pudding, classic supper dish. But what of breakfast, hmm? Well, have you ever munched down on a Dutch Baby?
[camera pans to the Dutch family, as they gasp, horrified, the baby's feet are in way-oversized wooden shoes]
DUTCH MAN: [shouting] Hoe durft u probeert te eten mijn baby!
How dare you try to eat my baby!!!
Did you see the feet on that? Never mind. Doesn't matter.
Supposedly the term "Dutch Baby" was coined by Original Pancake House owner Lester Hyatt, who was trying to think up a new name for a dish based on German pancakes.
Now the parts list for our version, as you can see, is just a little bit different than our popover. We have two large eggs still. But we've cut back on the milk to only half a cup, okay? And we've cut the flour down to two and three-eighths ounces by weight. Don't worry. That's half a cup by volume. That's easier. We've got half a teaspoon of kosher salt, three tablespoons of butter, melted. And count them, three tablespoons of sugar.
2 LARGE EGGS
½ C. WHOLE MILK
2⅜ OZ. AP FLOUR
½ tsp. KOSHER SALT
3 Tbs. BUTTER (MELTED)
3 Tbs. SUGAR
[at the oven] Ahh. Now place two tablespoons of the melted butter in a 10-inch cast iron skillet. Stash in a 375-degree oven. Let it heat for ten minutes before building the rest of the Dutch ... Well, you know.
2 Tbs. Unsalted Butter,
|[assembles the ingredients in a blender]||
2 Large Eggs, Room
½ Cup Whole Milk
2⅜ Ounces All-Purpose Flour
3 Tbs. Unsalted Butter,
½ tsp. Kosher Salt
3 Tbs. Vanilla Sugar
Plain old sugar is certainly fine. But if you happen to set aside some sugar in
which you stash one, two, or maybe three vanilla beans for a few weeks, you
would have vanilla sugar, which would be a very nice touch indeed. [blends the
[at the oven] Into the pan. Thirty to 35 minutes will do the trick.
[later] Ahh, now that is a beautiful baby. Cut into wedges. Adorn with additional sugar if you like, and a bit of lemon juice is nice. Just squeeze it on. Ridiculously delicious.
So as you can see, this one simple application can easily and quickly morph from breakfast to lunch to dinner. It is a true multitasker, and a tasty one at that.
Okay, just to make sure you've memorized it, read it back to me. Come on, all of you. Good. Good. Good. Okay. Good for everyone, except you, Mr. Thompson, in Boca Raton. Don't think I didn't hear that.
See you next time on Good Eats.
title, "This is the Boke of Cokery: Here beginneth a noble boke of
festes royalle and Cokery a boke for a pryncis households or any other
estates: and the makynge therof as ye shall fynde more playnly within
this boke", (London, 1500):
http://tinyurl.com/pslfnk, page 60
However, it appears that the first English cookbook (not published) was "Forme of Cury" (or Manner of Cookery) from the chief of feasts for Richard II who compiled a set of royal recipes in 1390.
††Practical Cooking by M.N. Henderson, 1876
Transcribed by Michael Roberts
Proofread by Michael Menninger
Last Edited on 08/27/2010