Tha knows, it's a fact. Only a reet proper Yorkshire cook, wi' Yorkshire blood running through his – or her veins, can make Yorkshire puddings in a proper Yorkshire oven.
Noel is that man. I am not that woman. He's as Yorkshire as they come. Me, with my Irish side, well, after so many failures, I'm sticking to soda bread.
The new oven was to be put to the test. It may have lots of fancy settings (but no knobs), but could it cut it? Could it prove itself to be a Yorkshire oven?
I left the batter-making to Noel, and after faffing for five minutes with the oven settings, found the 'on' switch.
The secret, said Noel, is to have the fat smoking hot.
I watched the master at work.
Then we both watched the pudding through the quadruple-glazed door. Well, there was nothing on the telly.
The pudding rose slowly at first, then nearly broke through the roof. The oven may have started life in Germany, but it's an honorary Yorkshire AEG.
Now, THAT'S what I call a Yorkshire Pudding..
Today's lovely thing
Singing Christmas carols in the park with my friends.