I swear I used to be good at math.
I may have said this before, but it’s true. I was, like, really good, you guys. If I had more discipline, I may have even gone into a STEM field, but alas, I’m lazy and really good at BSing my way through papers, so I went into a creative field instead.
So here we are, me starting an orange soufflé recipe that I had initially planned on doing a third of since this recipe says it’ll end up with six puds and I only wanted two. Then I started juicing the oranges and ended up with half the amount of juice that the recipe calls for.
Honestly, guys, I was really smart once.
Why am I cutting a recipe in half, you may ask? Or rather why did I plan on doing a third? Both have the same answer: because I didn’t want to make a full recipe. That seems pretty obvious. Stupid question. Why did I not want to make a full recipe, you ask, attempting to follow up to your stupid first question? Because I didn’t want to eat a full recipe’s worth. Stupid question #2!
But to be less like a jerk, the real answer is soufflé puds are an awkward, dare I say, impossible thing to bring to work because they need to be served fresh out of the oven. So I decided to make these for my mother and myself, but we weren’t going to eat six. So I was just going to make two. But then realized I had to make three because of the fact that I over-juiced the oranges.
So instead of doing one large egg as a third of four medium eggs, I went with two eggs, both run under warm water because, even at my mom’s, I’m terrible at this whole room temperature egg situation.
But the good news is I’m not terrible at separating eggs at my mom’s!
I did it with the shell and didn’t break the yolk. Go me!
In the past I have also been bad at softening butter. The last time I made something at my mom’s, I ended up melting instead of softening butter. Fully melting it. Like an idiot. So this time I was careful to soften the butter five seconds at a time in the microwave.
With the butter softened and ready to be used, I started whipping the egg whites.
Until stiff peaks formed.
Back to those egg yolks that I separated like a pro.
Mary and Paul wanted me to add to that the softened butter, sugar and orange zest.
They also wanted me to add some flour. But my mother is of the gluten-free variety of mothers, so I used her gluten-free cake flour. To counteract the heavy gluten-free-ness of gluten-free flour, I sifted it to lighten it up, a trick that does work.
My mom made surprisingly good gluten-free angel food cake for which she sifted the flour for a total of seven or eight times. I’m not sure this one-time sifting will do much, but I believe! And when you believe, stuff, like, you know, happens or something.
And then I whisked.
It’s starting to look like something!
It’s starting to look (and smell) like something delicious, if I do say so myself.
Whilst whisking, I was to slowly add the orange juice and not worry about curdling, which only makes me worry about curdling.
Once the orange juice is added, Mary and Paul wanted me to add milk slowly whilst whisking and, again, not worry about curdling. The only thing is neither my mom nor I are really supposed to have milk, but higher fat creams are okay, like whipping cream. Instead of milk, then, I added watered-down whipping cream.
And the good news is, so far the curdling risk seems low.
Once the yolk mixture is ready, Mary and Paul want me to fold it into the egg whites.
This is where the curdling risk seems to have taken a turn.
Folding was tricky. I didn’t want to deflate anything, but I also wanted to make sure things got mixed. Also I needed to get these things in the oven because they need to bake for 40 minutes.
Poured evenly into three greased pudding dishes…
…and popped into a roasting pan…
…with water poured into the roasting pan while in the oven…
…these things are ready to bake.
Another reason I’m glad I made this at my mom’s house: she has a roasting pan. When would I ever need a roasting pan in my teeny tiny kitchen? Answer: never. When does she need a roasting pan? Like three times a year, but that’s three times more than me.
Thank you, Mom.
*40 minutes later*
First of all, they smell heavenly. Second of all, I had to write “heavenly” because I feel like I say “delicious” too much and repetitive adjectives are the sign of a stupid person. Third of all, yum.
As advised, these need to be topped with ice cream, so I went with coconut milk ice cream.
And then I ate that beautiful baby and loved every bite.
Then my mom and I shared the third one because this was a truly delicious recipe. I mean heavenly. I mean tasty. I mean scrumptious. I mean scrumdiddlyumptious. The texture was super light and fluffy and the flavour was perfectly sweet and citrusy. Mm-mm-mm. I’d make these again. I wonder how different they’d look with gluten. Or how much better it would be with chocolate ice cream.