Guys, I am in a funk. And it’s not like James Brown’s funk, or the Isley Brothers’ funk. It’s a very non-awesome, kind-of toxic, super-blarghy-ultra-screw-up-expialidocious…funk. I’m making uncharacteristically dumb mistakes at work, my sleep schedule is out the window, and all I can seem to do right is binge watching Grey’s Anatomy in bed covered in cats who, at times, seem dubious about my hygiene (understandably). And I completely blame the weather- no, really. We’ve been having major snow on and off in Portland since December, and Portland just plain doesn’t know how to deal with snow in amounts over 1-inch, so my workplace keeps shutting down. Between myriad snow closures and holiday off-times, I haven’t worked a full 40-hour week since just after Thanksgiving. I flourish when I am rooted in a predictable routine, and, clearly, I wilt when I am not.
That said, I am majorly blessed to have been paid for each day (granted, it was with my vacation time, which I did have earmarked for actual vacations), to have a home to keep me warm when there were literally people freezing to death in the streets, and humans and cats whom I love, and who love me unconditionally even when I am a gooey, pathetic lump of lethargy and sadness. Until I am fully re-rooted into my beautiful, predictably boring routine, I will be over here clinging to gratitude for dear life.
Hey! You know what I didn’t screw up at all recently, though? My very first attempt at homemade lox. I know you’re skeptical, but making lox at home is completely idiot-proof. It requires no culinary skill whatsoever, or special ingredients of any kind. Even I, in my state of miserable incompetency outlined above, nailed perfect homemade lox on the first try. Whiz-bang!
Lox is, without a doubt, the sparkling jewel of the brunch world. It’s luxurious and beautiful, with silky texture and salty, briny flavor that just won’t quit. Whether you serve it with bagels and schmear, nestled into eggs benedict, or swaddled lovingly in an omelette or crepe- it’s a winner, it’s impressive, and darn it! It lives up to the hype. These are all really great reasons why you pay out the bum for mediocre lox at the store or deli. But what Big Lox doesn’t want you to know is that you’re good enough and smart enough to make it yourself for a fraction of the cost. Here’s what’s involved: First, buy some salmon- something with fatty-er stripes will yield the best texture, but this isn’t crucial. Stir together some salt, brown sugar, and a dash of liquid smoke (optional), and slather it all over the fish. Wrap in plastic and put in your fridge to cure. Five-ish days later, unwrap the fish, give it a thorough rinse and dry, and then eat your heart out. Presto… homemade lox!
So easy, even a gooey, pathetic lump of lethargy and sadness can do it!
- Salmon, skin on
- 1/4 c. kosher salt
- 1/4 c. brown sugar
- 1/2 t. liquid smoke (optional)
- Gently press the surface of the salmon to check for pin bones- remove any you find. Pat salmon dry with paper towel, sprinkle with fresh black pepper.
- In a small bowl, stir together the salt, brown sugar, and liquid smoke (if using). Lay out a long sheet of plastic wrap and set the salmon in the center, skin-side down. Scoop salt mixture onto the salmon and evenly distribute. Wrap the salmon up in the plastic wrap, but don't fold the ends of the wrap over- leave them loose to let the juice escape during brining.
- Place the wrapped salmon in a baking sheet or dish and cover with a lid or more plastic wrap. Place in the fridge for 5 days, turning the salmon over once per day.
- After 5 days, unwrap the salmon and rinse under cool water until all traces of brine have washed away. Pat dry with paper towel. Use your sharpest knife to thinly slice the salmon across the grain, at a 45-degree angle.
It’s easy, it’s made of things you have in your fridge, and it’s on the table in 30 minutes. This dependable Cardamom Apple Dutch Baby recipe is sure to become a weekend breakfast favorite!
Hey there, guess what I finally bought for myself? A cast iron skillet! Girl, you write a food blog and you didn’t even have a cast iron skillet until now? Yes. Alright? It’s true. It’s one of those kitchen items that I always knew I wanted, and didn’t really have any reason not to buy, except for that I kept forgetting. Over and over. For years. Other items in this category include tongs, a meat thermometer, ice trays, a salad bowl, waffle iron, and one of those forky noodle scoops.
I managed to do without the skillet for so long because I do have a cast iron grill pan (which I have, admittedly, baked weirdly-shaped focaccia in, with surprising success) and an enameled cast iron dutch oven which does pretty much everything well. Everything, except, be photographed well with an apple dutch baby inside (too deep for that).
So I’ve been wanting to share this recipe with you for practically ever, and now I finally am checking it off my list! Let’s talk about it. Dutch baby, which also goes by German Pancake (less cute), is a crusty, eggy, puffy, custardy delight that is a snap to whip up any weekend morning. It’s just a simple egg-milk-flour batter, which is poured into a hot pan of melted butter, and then baked in the oven for about a half-hour. It poofs like a souffle while the edges crawl up the sides and form a beautiful crispy crust, and then it deflates when you take it out to cool. Just like any pancake, it’s dreamy with just about any fruit, though I think it lends itself to apples the best. Adding fruit to the equation inhibits rising to the middle somewhat, and instead forms a sort of custard around the fruit, kind of like clafouti. I love that part.
I flavor the apples with cardamom as they soften in the skillet, but go ahead and use cinnamon if you’d rather. Or nutmeg. Or both!
Any way you make it, be sure to top with all the usual pancake-suspects: maple syrup, powdered sugar, and plenty of butter! On its own, this will feed two people happily, but if you side this with some bacon and hashbrowns or other breakfast-delights, it’ll feed four.
- 2 medium granny smith apples, peeled, cored, and sliced 1/4" thick
- 4 T. butter, divided
- 1/4 t. ground cardamom
- 1/2 c. flour
- 1/4 t. salt
- 3 large eggs
- 2/3 c. milk
- 1/2 t. vanilla extract
- Preheat oven to 425F degrees.
- Melt 1 T. butter in a 10" cast iron skillet (or other oven-proof skillet) over medium heat. Add apples and cook for 3 minutes, stirring occasionally.
- Meanwhile, thoroughly whisk together the flour, salt, eggs, milk, and vanilla in a mixing bowl. Set aside.
- When the apples have begun to soften, add the cardamom and toss to distribute. Drag apples to the edges of the pan, leaving space in the middle. Add remaining 3 T. butter and melt. Toss apples to coat with butter, then arrange evenly on bottom of skillet.
- Pour batter over apples and place skillet in preheated oven. Bake 20-25 minutes, or until center is puffed and set.
I am not the first to sprinkle sugar on top of some yogurt, torch it, and call it breakfast creme brulee- in fact the concept is kind of having a moment right now. I first ran across bruleed yogurt on pinterest and it was easy enough to try out for myself a few times, but each time I found it a bit lacking in body and richness. Even the thickest Icelandic yogurt cannot compare to the custardous luxury of true creme brulee in its traditional dessert form, that is true, and I had no delusions that it would fool me to begin with. I am very good at knowing what is dessert and what is not dessert. So I started to think about what could be combined with the yogurt to give it a little extra oomph. I first tried whipping in some whole milk ricotta, which gave it the body that I was looking for but also added a slight grittiness to the texture that I found a bit off-putting after a couple of days.
I forgot about it and moved on with my life for a while. But then, last week, tired of eating the same unsatisfying instant oatmeal at my desk every morning, I thought about how much more I would relish ignoring the first few work emails of the day if I were tapping my spoon onto a crisp, deeply caramelized crust, and scooping burnt shards and creamy yogurt (and what else?) into my face.
And then I thought about mascarpone cheese. Of course, mascarpone! The dairyous hero of tiramisu! Thick and silky, with a concentrated dairy cream flavor. So I tried it, and I was glad to discover that not much mascarpone needs to be added to the yogurt in order to add juuuust enough suggestion of dessert to an otherwise responsible yogurty concoction. It is very good.
If you have been reading along for a while you likely have noticed by now that I am a bit of a make-ahead fangirl when it comes to breakfasts and lunches, in particular. In the evenings, I love nothing more than to slow down and unwind after work via a home-cooked meal, but in the mornings I am all about convenience. If this sounds like you then you’ll be glad to know that this breakfast creme brulee recipe has the make-ahead built right in, and these little heroes are perfectly packable and ready to come with you to work if need-be. Your workmates will be j-e-a-l-o-u-s, if you’re into that sort of thing.
I gathered some 8-ounce Weck jars, which I love for their tight seals and mega-cuteness (you can buy them at World Market), but you can use Ball jars or any other sealable glass or ceramic ramekin-like vessel that will stand up to heat from a culinary torch. I began by spooning some apple butter on the bottom of each jar, because it’s Fall now (ugh), then topped with the yogurt-mascarpone concoction. At this point the jars are sealed and stored in the fridge until ready to use. To prepare one breakfast creme brulee, just unseal, top with a generous sprinkle of sugar, and torch until a deeply caramelized crust forms. Let it cool for a couple of minutes, then gobble it up or seal it to take to work!
- 3 c. vanilla Greek or Icelandic yogurt
- 4 T. mascarpone cheese
- 8 T. fruit compote, jam, honey, or apple butter
- 4 T. granulated sugar, divided
- Either by hand or with an electric mixer, whisk together yogurt and mascarpone thoroughly. Set aside.
- Drop 2 T. of fruit compote/jam/honey/apple butter in the bottom of each of four (roughly 8-ounce) jars or ramekins. Top with yogurt-mascarpone creme, distributing evenly. Spread the tops flat, cover or seal, and refrigerate until ready to use.
- To brulee: When ready to eat, sprinkle 1 T. sugar over top of yogurt-mascarpone creme, shake gently from side to side to even out, then brulee with a culinary torch until entire surface is deeply caramelized. Allow to cool undisturbed for 5 minutes.
- If you don't have a culinary torch, you can try using your oven's broiler. If you do go for the broiler instead, use oven safe ramekins for this recipe, instead of glass jars, and be sure to watch carefully!
I’ve baked scones exactly twice in my life/in the last week, and the first was a failed attempt at developing this recipe. For the first go-’round, I’d had the delight of scoring some fresh sour pie cherries at the farmer’s market (I always seem to miss them!). Knowing that I’d likely only get one crack at sour cherries for the year, I wish I’d decided to make something less experimental… you see where I am going with this.
My first version of these tart cherry scones with earl grey and ricotta was an unmitigated disaster. Everything went great at first. The dough came together perfectly, a disk of pastry-perfection all ready to go, and then… wait… how am I going to get these sticky, juicy cherries into the dough NOW? I attempted to fold them in with my hands. It was a horrible idea. Things got slimy and my kitchen basically exploded.
I don’t now how the idea of cherries and earl grey popped into my head, but I knew that it was a winner at heart and that another attempt was warranted. Dried tart cherries to the rescue! Attempt number two was drama-free and I don’t think I cursed even once while making them. And, duh, they are delicious!
I’m no scone expert (clearly), but I opted for full-fat ricotta as the binder in these cherry scones to add a little heft and richness to the crumb. Truth-be-told, I have historically not been a big fan of the extremely dry texture of most scones I’ve eaten. The ricotta performed as I hoped- these scones are crumbly as they ought to be, but do not feel quite so dry in the mouth. You could probably still whistle a tune after eating. If that’s your thing.
I suck at whistling.
Completely un-hilariously, the day after version two came out of the oven I ran into a fresh berry scone recipe on the internet. APPARENTLY, all you have to do is roll out the dough, spread the berries on, roll the whole thing up jelly-roll style, and then slice and bake. OF COURSE! Blergh, sigh, eye-roll. Maybe I’ll try again next cherry season, but these will do marvelously until then!
- 2 1/2 c. flour
- 1/3 c. sugar
- 1/2 t. salt
- 1 T. baking powder
- 2 T. chopped or ground loose earl grey tea leaves (or just cut open 5 tea bags like I did)
- 1 stick unsalted butter, cold and cubed
- 2 eggs, divided
- 1/2 c. whole milk ricotta
- 3 T. heavy cream (or milk)
- 2 c. tart dried cherries
- coarse raw or turbinado sugar
- Preheat oven to 375 degrees (F).
- In a large mixing bowl combine flour, sugar, salt, baking powder, and tea leaves. Add the cold butter and work into coarse crumbs using your hands. Fold in the cherries.
- In another mixing bowl whisk together 1 egg, ricotta, and cream (or milk). Scrape into the dry mixture.
- Use a wooden spoon to combine wet and dry ingredients until a shaggy dough forms. Turn out onto a clean work surface and knead until dough is uniform. Shape into a 10-12" disk.
- Make an egg wash by whisking together the remaining 1 egg and 1 t. water. Brush over the top of the disk. Sprinkle coarse sugar liberally over the top.
- Slice dough into 12 wedges and carefully transfer to a cookie sheet.
- Bake for 18-20 minutes, or until golden on top.
This is a fool-proof, reliable, exactly-as-you’d-expect rhubarb sauce. There’s nothing particularly fancy or surprising about it. It contains three ingredients (or two, if you don’t consider water to be an ingredient), it simmers down in just 15 minutes, and it’s just lovely on so very many foods. This sauce has been a real work-horse in my tummy ever since the rhubarb started gracing the tables of the farmers market.
In the last two weeks, I have eaten it over irresponsibly large portions of mascarpone gelato. Slathered atop rhubarb cardamom pound cake (yes, double-rhubarb!). Spooned into popovers. My favorite: lovingly blanketing my greek yogurt in the mornin’.
…and it goes great with pistachios. But what doesn’t?
You bet your sweet buns I’ll be whipping up yet another batch this weekend. Yes, ma’am.
- 4 c. chopped rhubarb, in 1/2" chunks
- 1/2 c. granulated sugar
- 1 T. water
- Combine rhubarb, sugar, and water in a saucepan over medium heat. Allow to simmer, stirring occasionally, until rhubarb has softened and sauce is formed, about 15 minutes. Cool, then store in refrigerator.
- If a thicker sauce is desired, mix together a tablespoon of corn starch with a splash of water and stir in at the end.
Cilbir (pronounced “chil-ber”) is a Turkish dish of poached eggs over garlicky yogurt with spiced clarified butter. You eat it with a generous side of crusty bread, which functions as a delicious utensil. It may sound like an odd combination to we lowly peasants, but this rich and wholesome dish has actually been scarfed up by hungry Ottoman sultans for hundreds of years- historians trace it back as far as the 15th century! I googled this and I totally believe it because I’ve eaten it and felt pretty darned royal afterward.
You can enjoy this for breakfast or dinner. Whenever you eat it, when you scoop this onto your crusty bread, you’re going to find that the suppleness of the poached egg meets the creaminess of the Greek yogurt to create the silkiest, most luxurious texture imaginable. The richness of the runny yolk is offset perfectly by the tang of the yogurt and the subtle, nuanced spice of the butter. It is, without a doubt, one of the most comforting foods I have ever eaten. Not to mention beautiful!
I usually go for two large chicken eggs per plate. On the day I shot this, my husband had gifted me with two gigantic, fresh duck eggs from the farmers market (isn’t he something?), which you see here. I don’t know if it was the freshness of the eggs or if the duck-ness makes a difference, but they poached just marvelously!
Cilbir is pretty much everything I want this blog to be about: humble, accessible ingredients combining in creative ways. I want to promote simple recipes that wow and satisfy, and I think this nails it! I hope you’re intrigued!
- 2 garlic cloves
- 1 c. full fat Greek yogurt, at room temperature
- 1/2 t. tahini
- 4 T. unsalted butter
- 1/2 t. paprika
- 1/8 t. turmeric
- pinch cayenne pepper
- 4 large eggs
- Crusty bread, sliced thick
- 1 T. olive oil
- Finely mince 1 clove garlic and sprinkle with salt. Use the flat of your knife to mash the garlic and salt into a paste (alternatively, use a microplane to grate the garlic into a paste, then add salt). Scrape into a bowl and add the yogurt and tahini. Stir well to combine, then put aside.
- Melt butter over medium-low heat in a small saucepan. Add the paprika, turmeric, cayenne, and a pinch of salt and stir. Once butter begins to sizzle, remove from heat and pour into a small bowl or pyrex measuring cup. Set aside.
- Heat a large pot of water to boiling. Reduce heat to medium to bring water to a gentle simmer. Poach the eggs until firm whites/runny yolks. Using a slotted spoon, carefully remove eggs from the pot and place in a bowl of warm water until ready to serve.
- Turn on your broiler. Lightly brush one side of each slice of bread with olive oil and then place on a baking sheet. Broil the bread until toasted and golden brown.
- Cut second garlic clove in half, and then rub the cut side of one of the halves onto the surface of the toasts.
- To serve, plop the yogurt onto two plates or shallow bowls. Spread out slightly then top with the eggs. Drizzle or spoon the butter over everything, but avoid picking up the spices that have settled on the bottom.
I have the great cosmic fortune of being a Morning Person. I can be really smug about it, too. Maybe it’s the going on five years of 8-to-5-ing that has trained me to be an early riser, I don’t know. But I really do find morningtime beautiful, for all the same reasons that smug Morning People eagerly regurgitate- the soft, gentle light. The quiet stillness. The feeling of being the only one awake (translation: feeling inherently better than those weak sleepers. Chortle! Scoff!). But leaving desperate transcendental sentiment out of it, I am as productive as I ever am in the morning.
I like to make a hot matcha latte in the morning. It is a tasty, fun green way of achieving gentle caffeination, further, it is also a luxurious treat. It is one way that I can be kind to myself each day. I take self care very seriously.
Matcha differs from regular green tea, in which the leaves are steeped and then discarded. Matcha is ground tea leaves in the form of a very fine powder. It is dissolved in hot water, so you’re drinking the whole leaf. Loads of people celebrate matcha for a vast array of health benefits, some more substantiated than others. You can google this, but it’s irrelevant to me- I just like it.
Why yes, I would love another. Thank you.
- 1 t. matcha powder
- 1/2 t. sugar or honey
- hot water
- 3/4 c. milk
- Turn on your tea kettle.
- Spoon matcha and sugar into your favorite mug.
- When water has reached tea temperature (hot, but not boiling), pour about 1 T. over the matcha and sugar. Use a fork or mini hand frother to blend to a loose paste. Set aside.
- *Heat milk in a pan over medium high heat. When milk starts bubbling, remove from heat and pour into a frothing jug or large mason jar.
- Froth the milk either with a hand frother or by shaking in the jar (lid on) until slightly fluffy. You'll have hot milk on the bottom, and frothed milk on top. Pour milk over the matcha while using a spoon to hold back the froth until about 2/3 of the mug is full. Spoon the froth over the top.
- *If you're lucky enough to have an espresso maker at home, by all means, steam the milk as you would for a cafe latte or cappuccino.
- I highly recommend IKEA's $2 mini hand frother.
Aaaaand I’m back with Hash #2 for this week- a delectable, and oh-so-seasonal, fingerling potato and brussels sprout hash with apples and bacon. I loved this one.
Still working on getting the hang of this new camera and am not very pleased with these photos. You see, I tried to do a thing, and that thing didn’t really work, and then I kind of ate the food. It’s a good lesson in not getting ahead of myself, and being patient. I can deal with the learning curve, so long as practicing involves eating tasty foods. And luckily, for me, it does!
I’ve never had a whole lot of patience when faced with learning new skills. Like most folks, it’s really easy for me to adopt new interests and projects, but once I face a road-block that’s where I drop off. It’s really disheartening, and kind of makes me feel like a coward and an asshole. There’s nothing super-human about me that would enable me to prance straight to the finish line, when it comes to things that everyone else is content working at. And even if there was, how much real satisfaction could possibly be gleaned from that? Next to none. I’m simply not that special, though my time as a cellist led me to believe otherwise at a young age, much to my detriment. That’s a story for another time. Bottom-line: there’s nothing wrong or shameful about needing to try to make something happen. Tenacity is admirable.
Surely this reads as a pretty gloomy post, but really, it’s the opposite. As I mature, it becomes clearer that I need to challenge that modus operandi, if I’m ever going to feel like I’ve accomplished anything on my own. And at this point in my life, I really don’t feel like I have. And that’s why I’m really doing this blog- to choose to work at something that is hard and unfamiliar and doesn’t just come naturally, and learning that it’s okay to feel uncomfortable and failure-ish along the way, as long as I keep going. It’s giving me hope, and purpose, and those items have never come automatically for me.
That’s what this blog about, for me. But for you, it can just be about the food 🙂
Let’s get back to that hash!
- 4 strips thick cut bacon, cut into 1/2" chunks
- 1/2 large shallot, roughly chopped
- 1 small granny smith apple, roughly chopped
- 1 dozen brussels sprouts, halved
- 6 small or fingerling potatoes, diced
- 1/2 t. paprika
- 1/2 t. cayenne pepper
- 1/4 c. water
- salt and pepper, to taste
- 4 eggs
- Cook bacon in a large skillet (that has a lid) over medium heat until crispy. Remove to a plate, but
- leave as much rendered fat in the pan as possible.
- Saute shallot and apple with some salt and pepper until starting to soften, about 5 minutes. Remove to the bacon plate.
- Increase heat to medium high. Add a little olive oil, if needed, to coat pan. Toss in brussels sprouts and potatoes, and season with paprika, cayenne, and salt. Stir to coat everything evenly.
- Add water to pan, cover and cook 5 minutes. Uncover, stir, recover, and cook another 5 minutes.
- Uncover. Add bacon and apples back into pan, stir, and arrange in an even layer. Crack eggs on top of the hash. Cover, and cook until egg whites are set and yolks are cooked to preferred hardness, about 5- 7 minutes for runny yolk.
- Garnish eggs with a sprinkle of paprika before serving.
Hi friends. Wow, what a doozy the last couple of weeks have been. I recently interviewed for a new position at work that’s just perfect for me- it went well. The waiting, afterwards, was rough. I tried to remain zen about it. That failed. I was offered the position today, am thrilled!
Also exciting, I purchased a legit and non-cellphone camera for this food blog project of mine. It arrived Wednesday. Huzzah! It has a lot of buttons on it. I will learn. So, this will be my final post with cellphone food pictures. Lucky you, lucky me! Let’s eat!
This week is all about breakfast for dinner at chez Hendrickson- I’ll be sharing with you hash, two ways. For this post, a sweet potato hash with bacon, kale, and eggs. It’s simple and hearty and it only messes up one pan. And that counts for a bunch, when you only have two feet of counter space in your kitchen.
Hash is just a neat concept. It’s an easy formula- some kind of potato, plus a veggie or two, plus some form of pork, and eggs. I’m a big fan of recipes like that- when everything is interchangeable, you are free to explore endless combinations, and you win every time. I like winning. I feel like I’m winning this week. Thanks for reading- I hope you’ll decide to put this hash in your beautiful face.
- 4 strips thick cut bacon, cut into 1/2" pieces
- 4 large kale leaves, stems removed and torn into bite-sized pieces
- 1 t. olive oil, if needed
- 1 large sweet potato, 1/2" dice (I like the peels left on)
- pinch cayenne pepper
- salt and pepper, to taste
- 1/4 c. water
- 4 large eggs
- Heat a large skillet over medium heat. Cook bacon until crispy. Remove bacon to a plate, but leave behind as much rendered fat as possible.
- Saute kale in rendered bacon fat. Season with salt and pepper, and stir constantly until wilted. Add to bacon plate.
- Add a small amount of olive oil to the pan, if needed. Add sweet potato to pan and toss to coat with oil. Sprinkle in some cayenne pepper and salt to taste, stir, and arrange potatoes in an even single layer.
- Pour in water and cover. Cook 5 minutes. Uncover, stir and flip potatoes, and recover. Cook another 5 minutes.
- Uncover. Add bacon and kale back into pan, stir, and arrange in an even layer. Crack eggs on top of the hash. Cover, and cook until egg whites are set and yolks are cooked to preferred hardness, about 5-7 minutes for runny yolk.
- Garnish eggs with a sprinkle of paprika, if desired. Divide hash over two plates.
Ah, popovers. I cannot think of a more versatile, and cheap, and easy food than popovers. They were our go-to Saturday breakfast growing up, and they’re my go-to Saturday breakfast now. I love them so much that we named cat #2 Popover. We call her Poppy, for short. Cat #1 is Butter. They go so well together. I will always find reasons to post pictures of my cats. Poppy, left, Butter, right.
Back to food-popovers. Popovers are magical bread clouds with a delicate crispy shell, a tender and custard-y middle, and (if made correctly) a hollow cavity that is the perfect host to a number of fillings and sauces. You can eat popovers savory or sweet with just about anything- as a dinner roll, beside a steamy bowl of stew, underneath a tasty gravy, stuffed with fruit and cream… but my favorite way to eat popovers is slathered in butter and homemade jam. Like so.
The best thing about them is that they’re made of five ingredients that I’m confident you have: eggs, flour, butter, salt, and milk. It takes just five minutes to whip up the batter, and thirty minutes to bake. There’s really no reason why you should not whip these up, right now. Go on. Your crusty and fluffy destiny awaits.
You can use a simple muffin tin to make smaller popovers, as I do, or you can get yourself a dedicated popover pan for monster popovers. Generally, smaller popovers will be crunchier, while the larger ones will have a greater proportion of fluffy middle-ness. This recipe from apartment therapy’s thekitchn blog, which has been my popover recipe of choice since 2008, will yield twelve small popovers or six large.
- 1 T. butter, plus extra for greasing the pan (or cooking spray)
- 2 large eggs
- 1 c. flour
- 1/2 t. salt
- 1 1/4 c. milk
- Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Grease a muffin pan or popover pan.
- Melt butter and allow to cool slightly while you prepare the batter.
- In a large mixing bowl (a plus if it's made for pouring) combine eggs, flour, salt, and milk. Whisk until just combined- some small lumps are good.
- Whisk in the melted butter. Pour evenly into prepared pan- each cup will be about 2/3 to 3/4 full with batter.
- When oven is fully heated, put popovers in. Allow to bake for 15 minutes.
- After 15 minutes, reduce oven temp to 350 degrees. Bake another 15-20 minutes, or until puffy and golden brown.
- It is crucial to use an accurate amount of butter. Even a smidge more butter than called for will
- result in dense popovers that don't rise. On the bright side, these are still a suitable vehicle for jam and honey 🙂
- Do not open the oven door at any point that the popovers are baking- this will disrupt the rising as
- IKEA's lingonberry jam is the bees knees on popovers.