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Poem of the week: Yorkshire Pudding Rules by Ian McMillan

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This amusing and buoyant poem from the writer and broadcaster serves as a parodic religious guide on the sacred art of making the best Yorkshire pud

Yorkshire Pudding Rules

The tin must not gleam. Must never be new.
If there is dried sweat somewhere in its metal
It must be your mother’s. The flour must be strong
And white as the face of Uncle Jack
When he came back from the desert. The eggs
Must come from an allotment. The allotment
Must belong to your father-in-law.
The eggs have to be broken
With one swift movement over the bowl.
If there is dried sweat somewhere in its Pyrex
It must be your mother’s. The milk
Must have been delivered by Colin Leech
At 0430. The fork has to be an old one. The wrist
Must, simply must, ache after the mixing.
The flour must introduce itself to the yolk of the egg.
The egg has to be allowed to talk to the flour.
The milk must dance with them both: foxtrot, then quickstep.
The pepper must be scattered, black on off-white.
The oven has to be hotter than ever.
The lard has to come in a tight white pack.
The lard must almost catch fire in the oven.
The oven door must open and you must shout
JESUS CHRIST as the heat smacks you in the chops.

Related: Poem of the week: Easter by Katharine Tynan

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