the perfect puff.

I’m talking soufflés here, folks. I’m in my final semester of school, and in my class last week we made soufflés, both baked and frozen. This was not my first time making a soufflé (you can read about that adventure here), so I knew that it involved attention to detail and accuracy in order to obtain the perfect “puff” that is completely cooked on the inside without exploding out the top, and does not collapse in on itself when removed from the oven. I had successfully done it once before. But likes snowflakes, every soufflé is unique, so I certainly didn’t want to be overconfident.  

We started off with the frozen soufflé – no worries about collapsing here – it wasn’t possible. However texture, taste, and presentation were all key factors in this soufflé’s success. We chose an orange flavor, using liqueur and orange zest, and it wound up tasting like a creamsicle (which according to everyone who tasted it, was a huge success).  We placed a shaped Florentine  cookie on top, and served. One down, one to go.

"Dreamsicle" is more accurate.

Next up, the baked bad boy. This was the more challenging of the two, as it required very accurate preparation, mixing, and baking time/temp in order to achieve that perfect unpopped, yet thoroughly cooked soufflé bubble. We went with a traditional vanilla flavor, and anxiously hovered around the oven, peering through the glass trying to get a look at the puff-factor. The time had come, we opened the oven, and….

we have achieved "puff".

So, if I had to pick which one I liked better, I’d chose the frozen, and not because it was easier to prepare and there was no “puff anxiety.” I just love me some frozen desserts. I really do scream for ice cream. Just ask my friends. Break your eardrums, man.

Soufflé me.

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.

deflated; like my fragile ego.

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). 

whip it good.

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…

rise and shine.

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.