My memory is long. I pride myself on the ability to keep all matter of things neatly organized in the recesses of my head, a library of sometimes useless information that is easily culled on demand. But for some reason, try as I might, I can not remember the taste of the popovers we made during my traumatic tenure in home-ec class. I remember portioning them off into pans and that the whole class waited on them with all the dishes done and put away, but I can not remember their flavor. Most likely because I was still mad that I was forced to take the class.
That junior high experience was the only time I have ever made popovers. I have no good excuse that I’ve never made them since, after all they do err on the easier side of kitchen alchemy. When they emerged deep golden from my oven this morning, after I broke one apart hot and inhaled the steamy custard on its breath, I felt downright ashamed that I ever felt such disdain for my poor teacher. These are a miracle, an easy to make, easy to clean up after wonder that could effortless insert themselves into your daily life, pull up a chair, and sing your domesticity like nothing else.
Not only are they able to be eaten sweet, which is where my heart would usually meander, they would be equally delicious alongside a soup or salad, stuffed with seafood, or baptized in a cup of hot chicken broth. I gobbled up two this morning with my first cup of coffee, one with homemade strawberry jam, the other judiciously drizzled with clover honey.
Their flavor is not unlike a cream puff, but with a much easier method and a more delicate flavor than their cooked and piped pate a choux cousin. Their insides are surprisingly cavernous, eggy clouds of whisper light batter. You hardly notice the weight of one in your hand, and marvel they disappear so quickly down your throat. I have no special popover pan, but had great results with a plain muffin tin, so there can be no excuse for you not to give these a go.
Popover recipes are a pretty basic thing. Like crepes, pancakes and the like, the ingredients vary only in slight amounts from recipe to recipe. I perused several recipes and settled on a classic, butter included (we NEED the butter, right?) recipe from Ina Garten, though I altered her recipe slightly for method and volume. To bring the eggs and milk to room temperature in short order try this tip: soak the eggs in hot tap water, and place the cup of milk in a bowl filled with hot water. They will both be room temperature in about 15 minutes.
Popovers (adapted from Ina Garten)
· Makes 12
· 1 cup milk, room temperature (I used 2%)
· 2 eggs, room temperature
· 1 T. melted butter, plus additional soft butter for greasing tins
· 1 c. all purpose flour
· ½ t. kosher salt
Preheat oven to 425. Brush a 12 hole muffin tin with soft butter.
Beat eggs well by hand, or if you prefer, use a blender and pulse them 5 or 10 seconds to mix well. Add milk and melted butter, and mix well.
Add flour and salt and mix well, but try not to over mix. (I like using a blender for this reason.) Let the mixture sit until the oven has come to temperature, at least 5 minutes, so it can rest.
When you are ready to bake, pop the muffin tin (empty) into the hot oven for exactly 2 minutes. Then, take it out and immediately fill each muffin tin to the halfway mark with popover batter. Place back into the oven, and bake for exactly 30 minutes – and don’t open the oven door even once during that time. (That’s why there’s a window!)
I think the reason I haven’t ever made a souffle is because I don’t have the classic toque shaped dish, nothing even close to let another in the egg custard family rise to it’s full potential. But popovers do extremely well in a non-specific pan. I would also note that, like a souffle, popovers are most likely the best within the few moments after they come out of the oven. But, like a cream puff, no one is likely to turn them down if they have been sitting for awhile either.
Do I owe an apology to my home-ec teacher? I’d say I do. I know that these popovers are going to fit in very well in my kitchen, for those days when there is no bread for supper, or when I have company for breakfast. In every way, they have single-handedly redeemed the memory of that lackluster class and make me think that maybe a little measure of maturity is what I needed after all.
