I love cooking.
I love cooking for my family.
I love cooking dishes that others dare not attempt.
I love to juggle food preparation logistics like a project manager, to produce a fantastic family feast.
Most of all, I love hearing “Amazing!” and “More, please!”, as my grandsons wolf down my culinary creations.
Topping the Favorite Culinary Creations list is “Grandma’s Perfect Popovers,” a time-honored, perfected family recipe that is a uniquely marvelous melding of art and science. It is truly magical to witness a popover tin filled with thin, runny batter, morph into a dozen high-rise, hollow puffs of crispiness, filled only with steamy tendrils of tender warmth. I am proud to say I’ve mastered the ‘art of the popover’ and these ingeniously simple beauties have become Sunday morning staples in my home. Most importantly, I love serving them to the “ooh’s” and “aah’s” of my family.
Though for many, the appeal of a popover is their hollow crispiness, it’s the peel-apart, tender tendril-ness, that #2 grandson cannot resist. The evidence speaks volumes, as these crime scene photos show.
When I realized that the “Popover Gremlin” had struck again, my heart melted instantly; like butter in a fresh-from-the-oven popover. Once again, my perfect creations had been thoroughly and systematically demolished by this repeat offender (note that the remnants were rearranged carefully, with a remarkable sense of order), and I (and my melting heart) offered a quiet prayer of gratitude for this truly precious moment.
Thank you, Dylan!