Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding

Although I write a lot about food, and I admit to, rather immodestly, being ahem, rather a better than average cook, I don't cook very much at home.

There are many reasons for this: as a food reviewer, I eat out a lot, and in my age-old battle against becoming horizontally-challenged, I cannot afford two meals a day! "Afford" in this case being non-financial, of course. So a once-a-day indulgence is more than sufficient, and I'm not even talking about the health-aspects of it.

The main reason though is that since I decided to dispense with a live-in maid, it's been much simpler not to cook, and we tend to entertain out nowadays. Take it from me: the amount of time spent planning a meal, purchasing the ingredients, and then I have to cook all day - by the time our guests arrive, I'm ready for bed! And then there's the serving of the food and the clearing-up after. It's much simpler to just go out to a restaurant, order the food, enjoy your own party, pay for it then leave them to clear up the mess!

Having said that, I actually did some cooking the other day, something I have not done since my two sons left for further studies abroad. Now that they are back for the summer holidays, I decided to make some Roast Beef, Roast Potatoes, and to go with this traditional Sunday Roast, Yorkshire Pudding.

The Australian Tenderloin I got from Pok Brothers in Penang was, I have to say, superb - tender, succulent and juicy, and with a hint of red in the middle, just how it should be (despite 26 years abroad I still cannot stomach raw meat). The Yorkshire Puddings though were another matter: no matter how I try, I just cannot replicate the beautiful, light and airy ones I used to make in England. Is it my cooker or the ingredients? The different density flour, eggs and long-life milk here? I don't know. I'd like to blame it on one of those two reasons, but have a sneaking suspicion it may be just sheer incompetence - I'm losing my touch!

However, whatever I made was polished off by the family, and I have to take heart from No.2 Son's comment, "They were delicious, Mom. We're so used to your Yorkshire Disasters that we love them!"

Thanks, Son!