Lori in PA

Looks good, Susan. How big was your venison roast? We get the odd deer, but usually grind everything for sausage except the tenderloins and loins, which we cut into scallops. I'm learning to like venison better and better, so next year I'd like to keep more of it in "chunks" for different recipes. I'd appreciate your advice about the cuts you find most useful.

Therese, I've been reading your posts here over the past couple of days but haven't taken time to tell you how much I'm enjoying them. I spent 1 week in Paris in 2002 and your journal is helping me relive some good memories. Thanks!

You are exactly right, Jack. There's no defense needed for your version. My attempt at it had two problems: 1. The bowl -- wrong shape and too large 2. I don't think yours needed as much oven time as the classic version, but I was nervous about opening the oven partway through the baking. Yours would have been more tender if it'd come out earlier, but a couple of my kids prefer well-done eggs and voted for yours as the favorite even with my errors. I'm sure I'll make what our family will ever after call "Jack-style souffle" often because it is truly fast and easy. I'm a big fan of economical, clean-out-the-fridge, healthy, and fast food that pleases everyone, so souffles are here to stay in our household. Edited to add: I must publicly thank my very computer savvy 17 yodd for getting the photos here. Snowangle/Susan gave much help to dd, not to hopeless me, so thank you to you too, Susan.

What follows is an essay about my first experience with souffle preparation. It's pretty long. Somebody tell me if I shouldn't post something so arduous to get through. Dh insisted I post a picture of me -- I guess because he thinks I'm so stunningly gorgeous. Let's not disabuse him of his illusions, ok? I like French food. I like to cook it. I like to eat it. I’ve worked on a few French culinary projects which were new to me in the past months – pork terrine and cassoulet come to mind. So I decided to learn how to make a soufflé. After those days-long preparations, soufflé should be easy, yes? I’m not sure why I’ve waited so long to make one. I think it may be because soufflé sounds like a dish suited for a quick, last-minute meal, something one would literally “whip up.” And whipping up is precisely what one does when preparing a souffle. In the classic rendition, egg yolks are added one at a time to a thick béchamel base. Flavorings like grated cheese or pureed cooked vegetables are stirred in. Egg whites are whipped to soft mounds and quickly folded into the cream sauce mixture. Into a well-buttered soufflé dish and thence to the lower part of a hot oven it goes, where the bottom heat and the lifting power of the eggs sends the soufflé soaring above the confines of its dish, to emerge golden brown, its cracks offering glimpses of moist egginess within. In order for a dish to be truly quick and last-minute, one must comfortably “own” it as part of one’s repertoire. And before one can own most dishes, one must prepare them a time or two, going slowly and methodically, following directions. One needs a chance to translate the knowledge gained from reading and listening into one’s hands and intuition. When dinnertime loomed close, I felt unable to cope with walking through my first soufflé, and when ample time was available to me, I didn’t want to spend it making something so basic. So, soufflé remained floating around in the back of my mind, one of those myriad foods I wanted to master sometime. What got soufflé to the front of my thoughts was a new cook-off thread on eGullet, a website devoted to all things related to food. The thread was given the odd but descriptive title, “Eggs, Beaten, with Stuff in Them”. The idea that my time for soufflé had come was cemented when Jack, a bloke from Cambridge or Oxford, I always forget which, who seems to know his stuff when it comes to cooking, offered a post with photos about making individual soufflés for lunch. I was surprised to notice he mentioned nothing about making a béchamel base for them. When questioned, he said it wasn’t necessary, except perhaps for a cheese version. When I read that I realized that the idea of fooling with a béchamel had been the thing that was really blocking me from making soufflé. Enlightenment! Without the béchamel, all I’d really be doing would be making a sort of airy crustless quiche. This I could do – quickly and easily! Of course, being me, I had to complicate things. It occurred to me that what would REALLY be good would be a sort of soufflé taste test: Jack’s quick, flavor-intensive version pitted against the classic sort. And also, being me, I chose an unlikely day for the grand experiment. A close friend had died, early and unexpectedly, at the beginning of the week. Grief had occupied most of my thoughts and practical assistance with funeral plans had taken up much of my time. The morning of the funeral dawned crisp and beautiful. I sat at my computer reading more on the Eggs thread and thought, “Why not make soufflé for supper tonight? We’ll want something light after the funeral reception anyway.” That is how I found myself, late that afternoon, cradling four or five cookbooks in my lap as I compared soufflé recipes. They were pretty much alike: 1 ½ cups béchamel, 6 eggs, a cup or so of flavoring ingredients, an eight-cup soufflé dish. Straightforward stuff. My plan was to make a carrot and cheese soufflé in two versions. First problem: I only have one soufflé dish. Second problem: it only holds six cups. No worries, I thought – I’ll just refrigerate part of the mixture to make into an omelet or something in the morning. After a bit of head-scratching and cupboard-gazing, I decided to use the soufflé dish’s sibling, a vegetable bowl with somewhat rounded sides and bottom, for the second version. I vaguely remembered reading somewhere long ago about the importance of a soufflé mold having straight sides, but easily waved that thought aside in favor of necessity’s inventiveness. Of course, making two styles of soufflé at once added a good deal of complexity to the process, particularly since I needed to get them into the oven at the same moment and didn’t know how long they would “hold” after being scooped into their dishes. Some parts of both recipes could be done at the same time, such as grating the cheese and pureeing the carrots. For one, I had to make the béchamel, add the yolks, add the flavoring, and then fold in the egg whites. For the other, I merely had to mix the flavorings with the egg yolks and then fold in the whites. On top of all this juggling of steps, I was directing my husband to take photos at various points for the benefit/amusement of my fellow eGulleteers. He was much bemused my antics, as was his mother, who happened to be here and decided to join us for dinner once she got sucked into my intrigue. Jack's method -- the bechamel-less souffle: It was only after my almost-twin soufflés were tucked safely into the oven (“Under no circumstances may the door be opened until the baking process is almost finished!” intoned Julia Child) that I remembered that I had forgotten to reserve some of the béchamel-based mixture – the full amount thought it was in an eight-cup dish and was expanding accordingly as I stood helpless on the other side of the oven door. I comforted myself with thoughts of my oven’s self-cleaning feature as I washed the counter-full of dirty prep dishes. 8 cups worth of souffle in a 6-cup dish: I threw together a salad (Madame Julia: “…you accompany it only with a salad, or something like artichokes or asparagus vinaigrette…”) and ignored her further directive, “Dessert cannot, of course, have anything to do with eggs, but could be a beautiful fruit tart…,” feeling she wouldn’t be too horrified if I served the shoofly pie (one egg) I had leftover from the funeral reception. I commanded everyone to come to the table five minutes before my timer was set to ring. (“The guests must wait for the souffle, for the soufflé will not wait for the guests.”) I chanced a quick look into the oven at that late moment and laughed out loud. Jack’s béchamel-less version in its entirely unsuitable vegetable bowl had risen almost not at all. The classic soufflé in its too-small authentic soufflé dish looked like a wild thing, teetering far out of bounds but amazingly not quite broken off and tumbled onto the oven floor. It put me in mind of a Jack-in-the-Box, popped up and swaying gently and precariously. I whisked it to the table amidst actual gasps, everyone amazed at its defiance of physics. We ate. Maddeningly, the verdict was split as to the favorite version, but both were enjoyed by all. Our long, sad day was capped by laughter and sharing around the table. I thought of my friend while I ate. I certainly didn’t decide to tackle soufflé for the first time in tribute to him – he was the quintessential West Virginia good old boy and scoffed at anything “foreign.” In a way, though, I think what I did was fitting. Lucky lived his life appreciating God’s gifts as he knew them. He savored life. He liked to test himself physically. To me, food is a gift and I savor it. I like to test myself in the kitchen. Perhaps he would have appreciated my fancy eggs after all. Plated -- Jack-style on the left; classic on the right:

I have experienced few exhaustions like the exhaustion I feel after cooking a big dinner for a big crowd. Kudos to you!

Thanks for the report on the roast, Marlene. I gotta say that one didn't sound so good to me, but your recommendation carries some weight.

I semi-successfully souffled... ...but you'll have to wait for tomorrow to hear more and see pix, because while I CAN cook, I CAN'T upload photos on egullet. (Don't point me to the thread that tells me how to do it either. I've read it ten times and I still have to get my daughter to walk me through it. I'm missing the photo uploading gene, heretofore unidentified by scientists, apparently.)

Megan, I'm enjoying the blog much. Your life is very different than mine, which makes your photos and essays especially interesting. Suggestion for the required pet photo for the petless NYCer: get a pic of one of those dogwalkers with a bunch of pooches ranging around -- I think seeing that was one of my kids' favorite parts of their visit to NYC a few years ago!

At this moment, Klary is either: --washing dishes (possible) --in jail because she murdered a guest who looked at her lovingly handmade raviolis and asked if she had any Chefboyardee instead. (unlikely) --basking in the memory of a well-received meal and feeling the luxury of SPACE where all those ingredients and made-ahead parts of dishes had been living inside and outside of her kitchen (my pick)

To accompany The Great Souffle Experiment last night, I made a quick vinaigrette for the salad with some of the browned chicken thigh schmaltz. I thought it was: OK. I didn't mention the change and none of my family commented on it, so I don't think it was just me. I used fat:white wine vinegar 3:1, salt, pepper, smidge of Dijon and tossed it with romaine, frisee, a bit of minced red onion, and topped with a spoonful of crumbled bacon.

I really want to do this for supper tonight -- we'll see. A very close friend's funeral is today and there will be a "reception" (What DO you call that?) after it, so I'm sure a light supper is in order. What is uncertain is what my level of energy will be. Edited to add: Susan, your souffles look very appetizing!

Good luck with the dinner -- it sounds like you are very prepared, which is half the battle, I think. And, you always strike me as a friendly and welcoming person, which is certainly the other half.

Ok, Jack. I'm pledging in front of you all to make some kind of souffle within the next few days, barring natural or manmade disaster. I have some leftover roasted carrots and turnips from dinner last night, but while I can picture liking a carrot souffle easily, I'm not so sure about the turnip flavor. And, since I'm still training some of my children to enjoy turnips, perhaps I'd best not present them with their first souffle infused with pureed turnip. Perhaps broccoli? We all like broccoli. What to serve it with? Julia said rather decidedly that her souffles need only be accompanied by a crisp and cold salad and a non-egg dessert such as a fruit tart. Does anyone serve savory souffles as a side dish to accompany a meat dish, or is that too much?

Well, in the middle of a cooking frenzy yesterday here at my house, I managed to flip a full dozen eggs out of the too-full fridge and upside down onto the floor. It was one of those suspended animation moments for me -- stupefied expression, dismayed gasp, and all. The carton landed squarely, so the result was not the slimy mess I expected when I picked up the carton; rather, every egg but one was extensively crackled across the top. I'd like to say I dropped everything and made a lovely, bechamel-free souffle, but twouldn't be true. I knew I was making four shoofly pies for a funeral this morning, so I cracked four eggs into one bowl and put the other eight into another. The eight got whipped up with salt and pepper this morning for a couple of eggs worth of scrambled for dh before he left for work. The rest of us will polish them off shortly for our own breakfast, I guess. I WANT to make a souffle, but I seem to be blocked. I went so far as to get out my one and only Julia Child cookbook, but saw the directions for an eight-cup souffle dish and thought, "Does my (one and only) souffle dish hold eight cups? It seems smaller than that...", plus, that whole foil collar thing seemed to be just too much work in the middle of all my other cooking enterprises. Somebody tell me I don't need to bother with that...

Thanks for the ideas re salad dressing, etc. Well, I ended up pouring my browned thigh fat into a separate jar. If I don't control this new fun, my fridge is gonna be overrun with mayo jars of fats! Thanks for the article link re used cooking fat, Paula.

Exactly the kind of thing I've been wondering, Klary! My fat from browning the thighs looks SOOOO dark compared to the "pure" chicken fat. I didn't burn the meat at all, so that isn't it, but the difference is striking. Paula, I vaguely remembered you, I think, making a comment (perhaps on the duck confit thread?) about fat used for browning being carcinogenic. If it was you, could you explain a little more fully?

So it's ok to add the fat from the browned thighs right in with my "pure" schmaltz from rendering chicken skins?

I've become rather obsessed with fat in the past few months -- not cutting it out of my diet, like most, but gathering it to myself and treasuring it! I have questions, in no particular order: --At the moment, I've just rendered chicken fat from excess skin and fat on 9 lbs. of chicken thighs. I've also browned said thighs in preparation for a braise, which gave off lots of fat and juice. Can I keep this liquid for storage and later use in cooking, or does the fact that I thoroughly browned the thighs in it somehow render it unsafe for later use? --What types of fat should I be saving? I've got duck fat, pork fat, bacon fat, and now chicken fat. Beef fat? --Can I reuse duck/pork fat for confit after confit or is it a one-time-use-only thing?

Reading this made me realize one illogical habit I have -- I store my microplane nutmeg grater ACROSS the kitchen from the nutmegs, and that's the only thing I use it for!

Dumb-ish geography question that will make all NYCers shake their heads in silent wonder: Upper East Side? I've spent time in two main areas of NYC: Mt. Sinai Medical Center and the touristy stuff around the Empire State Building, et al. Is Mt. Sinai on the UWS or UES? I'm trying to imagine you in your environment.

I will look forward to this as well.

Dh has made the King Arthur soft pretzles a few times. We thought they were terrific -- paint with lots of butter, naturally.

So, why do cookbooks often direct one to wrap baked potatoes in foil? What is the purpose?

Toppings: --homemade venison chili --cheddar cheese --mozzarella --sour cream, light and regular --butter --crumbled bacon --guacamole Also, we had quiche, chicken enchiladas, and a salad of mixed baby greens with mango, red onion, dried cranberries, goat cheese, and vinaigrette. No exotic toppings, but all good. The guacamole was really good, though I say it myself.

That's funny! I had 29 medium potatoes, oiled and salted, on one rack for 2 hours at 350 degrees, including time to come up to temp using time bake. They were terrific. I'm very glad I decided to add extra time -- when I got home about half-way into the cooking, they weren't nearly done. Thanks for all the tips and helping me think it through, everyone.