Tuesday, February 04, 2003

Okay, I’m back.  And wow, I’d like to thank everybody again for being so nice to me.  But Ed, you’re right – this is­ ­a death march.  That’s what it was always supposed to be.  I want a highway named after me at the end of this thing.  Endlessly useful Sopranos quote: “I my mind, I use the technique of positive visualization.”  Here we go: Monday night was Filets to Poisson en Souffle.  This is yet another fish soufflé, only without the soufflé dish.  And if by “soufflé” you mean “something that puffs up really high and is very impressive,” it was failure.  If, however, you mean “a sort of puffy brownish thing that tastes really good with butter sauce on top,” then it was a raging success.” Started by poaching the flounder filets in vermouth.  I’ve poached fish using the Julia technique maybe ten times in the last five and a half months, and overdone it every single time.  But this time I was using my schmancy, gorgeous All-Clad braiser.  I buttered it, and spread minced shallots over the bottom.  I put the two filets on top, each one salt and peppered and folded in half.  Sprinkled more shallots over that.  Poured in vermouth plus water to cover.  I brought it just to a simmer, then covered it with a round of waxed paper and stuck it in the oven for five minutes. While that was doing I separated eggs.  You know, I didn’t much like “The Hours,” thought the whole “Mrs. Dalloway” connect-the-dots plot was a bit silly, but ever since I saw it, I think of Meryl Streep when I’m separating eggs.  Do you think she knew how to separate them so expertly already, or did she practice for the movie?  Love that woman.  It’s worth the price of admission to “Adaptation” just to watch her brush her teeth. Sorry.  I’m back.  Anyway, I separated the eggs.  The fish was done then, so I took it out – and voila!  Not overdone!  All-Clad braiser, you complete me!  I put the filets aside and boil down the cooking juices to a quarter of a cup. Souffles start out like bechamels.  I started by making a roux of flour and butter.  Then I beat in a cup of boiling milk and boiled that for a minute.  Salt and peppered and nutmeg-ed.  Bechamel.  Then I beat in an egg yolk.  I beat four egg whites until stiff, and folded a fourth of them into the béchamel/ soufflé base.  Stirred in some grated Swiss cheese.  Folded in the rest of the egg whites.  Then I buttered a cheap-ass cookie sheet, because I don’t have an “oval fireproof platter about 16 inches long.”  I smeared a thin layer of soufflé in a circle on it.  I began to get a bit concerned here, because there didn’t seem to be enough soufflé stuff for me to do what Julia was getting ready to ask me to do.  I think I may have folded the eggs whites in too hard.  I crumbled up the filets and placed them in four mounds on the soufflé base.  Then put a fourth of the remaining soufflé stuff on top of each mound of fish.  Sprinkled with cheese.  Stuck in the oven for 15 minutes. While it was baking, I made the Sauce Mousseline Sabayon that was to go on top.  Beat three egg yolks in with cream and the boiled-down fish stuff over low heat.  It was supposed to thicken into a light cream but not get so hot the egg yolks would scramble.  I think I got impatient/ scared and didn’t let it thicken enough.  Offheat, I stirred in six tablespoons of butter, one at a time.  It was a little thin, so I put the heat back on.  Whereupon, of course, I scrambled the eggs a bit.  No great horror, though it sounds bad, of course.  Easy to avoid the little scrambled bits.  The fish soufflé came out looking alright.  Maybe if I hadn’t folded in the egg whites so enthusiastically if would have puffed higher.  And it sure would have been impressive, puffy, on a fireproof oval tray.  But it’s okay.  It tasted fantastic, napped in thinnish butter sauce with the scrambled bits avoided.  One day, when this long journey is done, I’ll make it again, and make it right.  For a Monday dinner the night after a breakdown, however, it was good just the way it was. But that’s not all! I returned to the kitchen after dinner, where to make, at long last, the Charlotte Malakoff aux Fraises.  And it wasn’t bad, really.  I decided to go ahead with the soggy, sad ladyfingers, which had held up in the fridge better than I’d have thought.  I creamed together a stick and a half of unsalted butter with a cup of sugar – didn’t have quite enough of the “superfine” JC wanted me to use, so had to use some regular old.  I beat into that a half cup orange liqueur and a bit of almond extract.  Beat in one and a third cup of pulverized almonds.  No, I didn’t just have pulverized almonds laying about – I had to pulverize them, in my blender, which I had to get out of the cabinet.  No matter.  Beat in the almonds.  I whipped some cream in another bowl “until the beater, drawn across the top of the cream, [left] light traces.”  (Please to imagine many, many dishes....)  Folded that into the almond butter mixture.  I put a third of the almond cream into the mold, which had sodden ladyfingers all along the sides.  I put some strawberries on top, and a few bits of ladyfinger – ladyknuckles?  Another layer of cream, more strawberries, more ladyknuckles.  Last of the cream, strawberries, ladyknuckles.  Then I laid a round of waxed paper over, put a bowl on top, And stuck it in the fridge. Argued with my mom – “I’m ashamed that anyone I’m related to would watch ‘Joe Millionaire!’” – watched Zora get her diamond pendant, hip hip hooray, and went to bed. Checked on the charlotte this morning.  I dunno.  Might not be all that.  But the mother fucker’s done, anyway.  And I lived to see another day.  Of .  The Julie/Julia Project!!! 7:49:12 AM    comment []