Soufflé in the morning
The miracle lemon souffles, they rise even early in the morning
Last Friday I had lemon soufflé with Chambord crème Anglaise for breakfast. And I make no apologies. Not even to my sister-in-law to whom I’ve pledged undying Weight Watchers solidarity so that we might don bathing suits without embarrassment by Labor Day. Yes, it was so good there was no guilt involved.
I’d switched my normally scheduled kitchens class from the 1 to 4 PM slot to the 6:30 to 9:30 AM one so that I could make Massachusetts by nightfall, where my kids had spent the previous week with my parents while I made desserts in Pittsburgh and Andy dug around in the National Archives in Washington, D.C. en route to his next book. I was only halfway through my first cup of tea when Chef told us to take the basic sweet soufflé recipe and turn it into any combination we could dream up. I even surprised myself when I suggested to my partner Jack that we go for the lemon/raspberry combination. Jack didn’t argue, he was even sleepier than I.
I’d only done one other soufflé in my life. A cheese and artichoke one I tested for www.Food52.com, a food-related social networking site with which I have recently become obsessed. So I was a bit concerned to be dealing with a new formula, a new cooking technique, and a flavor profile concocted while I was still half asleep.
The formula was a basic one. Equal parts flour and butter worked into a paste (classically called a beurre manie) which will eventually be used as a thickener for the base of the soufflé batter. Bring to a boil a mixture of four parts milk to one part sugar and off heat vigorously whisk in pieces of the beurre manie ball until all is smooth. The pot goes back on the heat until it gets so thick, that it seems too far, maybe because the whisk could stand straight in the paste without assistance. Work in egg yolks and the zest of a couple of lemons and fold in the egg whites that have been whipped to soft peaks and sweetened.
Ramekins had been lined with butter and dusted with granulated sugar and we scooped in the batter which, unfortunately, looked relatively flat to me. I was not hopeful we were going to get lovely, lofty and light soufflés on this go around. It was still just too early in the barely caffeinated day to be optimistic.
We did not realize until it was too late that we should have been making the crème anglaise in tandem with the soufflés in order to get it heated enough to make the eggs safe and the consistency right and cooled again to make the sauce a cold contrast to the warm main event. Jack scalds the milk while I whisk the eggs. We combine the two in a slow, steady stream so as not to get scrambled eggs (even if that was the more appropriate dish for an 8 a.m. tasting!) The mixture gets a hot water bath to get to 185 degrees, a shot of Chambord, raspberry liquor, for flavor, and an ice bath to cool it quickly. In between these steps I sneak a peak in the deck oven and am pleasantly shocked that the soufflés are a full inch over the tops of their ramekins.
The Chambord flavored Creme Anglaise is tucked inside the souffle.
Our only dilemma left at this juncture is uniting the two elements. Chef explains that if we carefully put a small hole in the top of the soufflé, we can spoon some of the raspberry custard into its center, giving the eater the best of both in each bite. That eater would be me. And I must confess it forward that I’d do it all over again if ever given the opportunity.
I will eat that at any hour you choose!
Eggs and citrus sound like a perfectly nutritious way to kick off your day!