Here's the thing of it, popovers are very easy to make. So, really, apart from burning them, the only real downside is that they take so blasted long in the oven. This is why I found myself trying to quietly whip up a batch Saturday morning -- the birthday of yours truly. I put all the ingredients in the food processor and stepped out onto the deck, making sure to close the door tightly behind me. I then plugged the processor in and loudly whirred to my heart's content. (I also do this when the small girl is still sleeping and I need to grind coffee beans. Works like a charm, too. Now, if only I could come up with a trick of silencing the damned microwave, we'd be in business.)
Anyway, I plonked the popovers in the oven, and then dashed to the computer with my blue-light and large cup of coffee in tow. And I sat and waited. And waited a bit more. When it was getting closer for the timer to go off, I started causing a bit of a racket -- just to wake everyone up. After all, it was going on 9:30 and we had a very busy day ahead of us. Michael needed to yell at the telly for the Army/Navy game (Go Army, Beat Navy!, which clearly did not happen...), and we needed to load ourselves in the car and drive to the hospital. My oldest sister had twin boys the day before -- weighing in at 4lbs 11oz each. They are teeny-tiny little things, born a whole month early, and they remind me exactly of baby birds. Well, apart from their legs, those look more in the manner of little frogs, if you must know.
Anyway, that is how we've spent the past four days -- driving to the hospital, chatting, changing bums, and feeding the little buggers. And all I have to say is, Whoa! My sister certainly has her work cut out for her, and that you can be sure. Oh, and Emilia is absolutely insisting that they are both named Paco. I keep telling her the name is already taken, as she has insisted that Uncle Matt and Aunt Jane use it when their little one is born. But she doesn't seem to be too concerned with its popularity. 'Are we going to visit Paco again today?'
To celebrate my birthday, that evening Michael cooked up a fabulous dinner: rib eye steak on the grill (which had this amazing rub all over), grilled radicchio wrapped in pancetta and pear, sweet potato gratin, and salad. And a lovely lovely bottle of red wine. Yummy. He was quite put-out with me for making breakfast. 'I could have done it, you know!'
The first time I made popovers was several years ago when we lived in Bellevue. It was our anniversary and I got up at the crack of dawn to make them before Michael left for work. I had just pulled them out of the oven when he walked out of the bedroom all groggily and said, 'Mmmm, popovers!' I was shocked, because up until that point I don't think I had ever seen one before.
And so, moving on, one of the hazards I've noticed is that the popovers get too brown for my liking if I don't put foil over the tops midway through the baking process. Popovers are a lovely breakfast, but not when they are burned -- then they're just depressing. And there's no better way to wreck my day than to have a burnt baked good first thing in the morning. So I finally risked opening up the oven (half-way through), throwing a piece of foil on top, and then quickly closing the door again. Thank goodness I like to live dangerously, too, because it worked like a charm.
And as a quick side-note, there is no better way to eat these than straight out of the oven, with tons of butter and homemade strawberry jam all over them. Mmmm. It's totally worth standing on the deck in my pajamas, freezing to death, and with a heavy food-processor balancing precariously on my knees.
The recipe is from Marion Cunningham via Baking with Julia. And I just saw in the Wall Street Journal a few weeks ago that Ms. Cunningham has a splendid cookbook dealing with all things breakfast. It came out in the 1980s, so I hope it is still in print. Anyway, I may have to track it down sometime because her contributions to Baking with Julia are the recipes that I continually go back to, time and time again (Buttermilk Scones, for instance, and Irish Soda Bread, for another instance).
Popovers
makes 9 or 10 (depending on tin/cup size)
1 cup flour
1 cup whole or 2% milk, at room temperature
½ teaspoon salt
3 large eggs, at room temperature
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted (plus extra for brushing your tins/cups)
Position your oven rack to the lowest rung in the oven, and preheat the oven to 425ºF. Butter 9 ¾c glass cups or 10 ½c muffin tins. (I usually do a combination of both.) If using muffin tins, alternate with the holes so you go so you give them plenty of room to grow (pop over) in the oven.
Put all the ingredients in your handy-dandy food processor and blitz until smooth. Then, using a ¼c measuring cup, fill each buttered tin. The tins/cups will look quite sparse as you go, but not to worry. They quadruple in size.
Plonk them in your oven for 25 minutes. Do not open the door at all during this part. After 25 minutes, turn the oven down to 350ºF and bake for another15 to 20 minutes. Our oven must run hot (despite what the oven thermometer tells me) because it is essential that I cut the time down a few minutes and cover them with foil after the initial 25 minutes has past. (Recipe from: Marion Cunningham via Baking with Julia by Dorie Greenspan. William Morrow Publishers, 2006.)
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