Postcards from Bosnia is an audio journey into the heart of Bosnia and Herzegovina, seen through the eyes of an Englishman who has made this place his home.
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This isn’t really about Sunday lunch
⬆️ The chat Tamara and I had about “Yorkshires” some of which is included in the main podcast ⬆️
When most people hear the words Yorkshire pudding, they think of Sunday roast, gravy, and a very specific idea of England. It’s treated as tradition, almost ceremony. Something fixed. Something defended.
But that’s not where Yorkshire pudding starts.
It doesn’t begin with nostalgia or national pride. It begins with a problem that needed solving.
A dish born of economy, not indulgence
In eighteenth-century northern England, meat was expensive and fuel was precious. A joint of beef wasn’t an everyday meal. It was planned, stretched, and respected.
Yorkshire pudding began as a simple batter, flour, eggs, milk, poured into a pan and placed beneath roasting meat to catch the dripping fat. The batter rose in the heat, filling stomachs cheaply and effectively.
And here’s the detail many people forget: it was originally served before the meat. Gravy poured over it first. The beef came later.
Yorkshire pudding wasn’t a side dish. It was strategy.
Why that makes sense in the Balkans
Living in Bosnia, this logic feels immediately familiar.
Across the Western Balkans, there’s a deep understanding of food that fills rather than flatters. Batter-based dishes appear everywhere, not as treats, but as anchors. Uštipci at breakfast. Plain palačinke when cupboards are bare. Proja on a wooden table, sliced and shared.
These foods aren’t identical to Yorkshire pudding, and they don’t need to be. The connection isn’t about copying recipes. It’s about responding to the same conditions.
Cold winters. Hard work. Limited ingredients.
Different kitchens, same instincts
What strikes me most is how naturally Yorkshire pudding fits into a Bosnian kitchen. The ingredients are familiar. The technique, hot fat, confident timing, no hovering, makes immediate sense.
Even the arguments feel familiar. How much fat is too much? Should it be crisp or soft? Big or small? Everyone has an opinion, and everyone trusts experience over instructions.
That fierce protectiveness around simple food exists on both sides of the continent.
Is there a direct historical connection?
No. There’s no evidence that Yorkshire pudding travelled east or that Balkan batter dishes travelled west.
But history isn’t always about movement. Sometimes it’s about parallel solutions.
When people face similar problems, they often arrive at similar answers, even if they never meet.
Flour, fat, and reassurance
So this isn’t really a story about Yorkshire pudding at all.
It’s about how ordinary food carries quiet wisdom. How it feeds people without asking for attention. How it reassures rather than impresses.
Flour.
Fat.
Heat.
Different names.
Same human need.
And the same promise, whether you’re in Yorkshire or the Western Balkans:
You’ll be fed today.
Thank You
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