Monday, June 30, 2003

Well, Pat, you beat me to it.  But Saturday night I did go ahead and tackle Souffle au Chocolat.  I, too, would call it no more than a qualified success.  The original plan had been to make ice cream to serve with it, but when I took out my ice cream maker at five o’clock in the afternoon, I realized that the freezer bowls were supposed to be frozen first, and that would take until midnight or so all by itself.  So no ice cream.  Then I was going to make Crème Anglaise to go on top.  But, um, I got really really lazy – something that happens, I might add, when one spends one’s day waging a heroic top to bottom campaign against accumulated filth.  So plain Souffle au Chocolat we had.  For mine, I buttered the soufflé mold and dusted it with flour, then melted in a couple of tablespoons of coffee some excellent Sharfen Berger semisweet chocolate.  (This stuff smells like you cannot fucking imagine.  Before I began cooking I sat on the couching awhile, just getting high off the fumes coming from the bar.)  Then I made a paste of cornstarch and milk, and added more milk and sugar.  (This is different than the other soufflés, which started with a flour and milk base.)  I boiled it briefly until thick, then mixed in the chocolate, then took it off heat and dotted it with two tablespoons of butter.  I beat five egg whites with a pinch of salt until I got soft peaks, then sprinkled on some sugar and beat to stiff peaks.  I stirred three egg yolks into the chocolate, then folded in the egg whites, gently, and turned the whole mess into the soufflé mold. All I did this in accordance with Julia’s instructions, and yet something was missing.  Like with Pat, it didn’t poof as much as it might have.  I probably should have bitten the bullet and found and bought some potato starch, which was Julia’s first choice, rather than cornstarch.  Or maybe I over-folded the egg whites.  I am also perfectly willing to blame the sticky weather.  Regardless, it didn’t really matter because at the end of the day it was chocolate, poofy or not, and when it tastes like chocolate that’s really all you need. We also watched Jacques and Julia Sunday afternoon.  It was an episode about eggs, and it was fabulous.  Each of them would do a basic egg dish – scrambled eggs, omelets, poached eggs – their way, and compare.  It was so great – the scrambled eggs looked amazing, and I finally understood Julia’s omelet making method, I think.  Plus, Julia held forth on “this salmonella business.” Okay, so the Project aside, a couple of orders of business. 1)      This Sunday, July 6th, Eric and I will be holding forth at the Belmont Racetrack.  I predict pates and fried chicken and tarts, not enough exacta winnings and way way way too many vodka tonics.  Any of you who can, I would love for you to show up.  We’ll be at the cute little tables right by the track.  Please to come. 2)      We are on track to begin sweetbreads on Monday, July 7.  (Sweetbreads being, for those of you who are unsure, the thymus gland of a calf.)  I urge those of you so inclined to work along with me – I’ll post the recipe tomorrow, and whoever wants to can experiment and report back their results.  Come on, it’ll be fun! 3)      Occasionally, something comes along that’s more important than food, like, say, the use of our nation’s Constitution as toilet paper by some political party or other.  We’ve already been handed a president we didn’t vote for, a disastrous environmental policy, and a record breaking deficit.  And don’t even get me started on the whole Iraq thing.  Now, again, we’ve got redistricting going on in my home state for the oh-so-constitutional reason that Tom DeLay doesn’t like Lloyd Doggett’s (honest, liberal, right-thinking) face.  FivenDimer’s posting in the comments the other day was right on – Strom Thurmond certainly was a right little bastard back in the day, but let’s live in the now.  Delay is the antichrist au currant.  I don’t know what we can do, really, short of – in a move no less constitutional than this redistricting proposal, though perhaps a bit more likely to land somebody in jail -- assassinating the little bastard.  Write the fucker and give him a piece of your mind, I guess. 4)   I regret to report that I have finished the latest Harry Potter.  It was very good, though that is sort of beside the point with Harry – it’s like crack, I’m telling you.  There is now a little hole where my heart used to be (though not because of the dead person, that was sort of lame….)  Anyway, one good thing to come out of this experience is that I have a new, delightfully filthy phrase to maintain:  “Drawing out my Harry.”  As in:  “No, I’m not going to eat the entire one-pound bar of Scharfen Berger Chocolate right now – I’m trying to draw out my Harry.” 8:01:41 AM    comment []