Today marked a major milestone in my dessert-making career: I made a soufflé. Up until this morning, I feared the soufflé, with its light fluffy intimidating “puff” and warm gooey interior. For years, I admired it from afar – the way the egg whites need to be whipped into stiff peaks, how it has to be cooked for the exact right time to achieve maximum puffiness. And such a delicate puff it is – one minute of over-cooking or handling with anything less than kid gloves and you’ve got deflation — soufflé: fail.
This morning, everything changed. I made a lemon soufflé. It was complicated – it started off with the base, which was sort of a lemon curd (it reminded me of that lemon filling in donuts). It involved juicing both an orange and lemon (fresh is best) and zesting the lemon too, and boiling and whisking like a mad fool. Then came the whipped egg whites and sugar, which although not a complicated task, it takes like, forever, man. Watching egg whites whip is like waiting for a star to fall and carry your heart into my arms (or something like that).
Finally, you fold the lemon into the whites, pour into those cute little ramekins, put them in the oven and wait for your fate to be sealed.
20 minutes later…
now, unfortunately, i didn’t get to photograph my lovely souffles before my vulture-esqe classmates devoured them. but trust me, it closely resembled the picture. Well, lets say that’s a celebrity soufflé playing the role of my soufflé in a feature film. You get the idea.