*One more day to vote in Project Food Blog Challenge #4. If you like me, why not vote for me here, pretty please?

If sustainable chicken butchering wasn’t Food Ninja enough for you (one week left to enter the Food Ninja contest-do it::), how about giving water-bathed soufflés a whirl? This is a “soufflé” in the most hypermodern sense of the word. In other words, this aint your grandma’s souffle. It earmarks the fruits of my recent experimentation with egg whites and sous vide. It’s no secret I’m an unabashed fool for all things uova, but I was really more of a yolk kind of a girl- until now. Now I’m enjoying a renaissance of my appreciation for albumen and this is the culmination of my experimental accomplishments. I got the concept from the Spanish chef Raphael Peña, however I altered times, temperatures and ingredients so much (after preparing the dish numerous times) I am going to share my recipe.

But first I’m going to tantalize you with the sheer genius of this dish and assure you that if you make it, you’ll be licking not only your chops, but your plate, your neighbor’s plate, and maybe even some stray egg you spot on your neighbor’s upper lip. That sounds like one heckuva sexy party, but then, eggs are just sexy like that, no? It’s probably because they are the primordial origin of life, and I guess there is something inherently sexual about that. Yep, eggs are the ultimate aphrodisiac in my book, although I realize that sounds borderline cuckoo.  Remember key parties? I propose sous vide soufflé parties instead, if you’re into that sort of thing, which I’m not, for the record.

Enough blather- what is that damn frothy concoction, you ask? Well it’s an egg yolk nestled into a pillow of stiff egg whites then topped with more egg white so the yolk is a hidden surprise inside the billowy cloud. It sits atop seasonal Parisienned vegetables, Jamón Ibérico and cream. Can you imagine anything more decadent? I can, actually. AS SOON as truffle (only Alba white for this girl) season hits full steam- it’s supposed to be a good one this year- I will be shaving a heaping lot on top.

Sous Vide Souffle on Parisienne Vegetables and Jamón Ibérico

• Serves 4 and takes 1 hour (more if you are a slow vegetable Parisienner)

For the vegetables & Jamón:

• ¼ lb chopped Jamón Ibérico (available in Seattle at Metropolitan Market)
• 1 tbsp butter
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• 2 medium beets (red or golden), cut into Parisienne balls with a Parisienne scoop
• 2 parsnips, cut into Parisienne balls with a Parisienne scoop
• ½ delicata squash, cut into Parisienne balls with a Parisienne scoop
• 1 fennel bulb, cut into Parisienne balls with a Parisienne scoop
• (optional) 1 cup frozen organic peas
• ¼ c heavy cream
• Salt and pepper to taste

Parisienne balls (could always just chop 'em instead)

For the egg soufflé:

• 4 eggs (I use duck) separated
• 1 tsp salt

To prepare the soufflés:

1. Heat your sous vide supreme or immersion circulator to 156°F. Establish the mise en plus for the eggs, as you want to work quickly. You will need four double-layered sheets of clingfilm slightly larger than a standard piece of paper, a 3” round cutter (approx), a stand mixer or hand beaters, kitchen twine, and either a half pan (if you have a sous vide supreme) or something small and heavily weighted that you can tie your souffles to (if you are using an immersion circulator). For the sous vide supreme method, be sure your water level is high enough that when you place a half pan inside the supreme (should fit perfectly), it just touches the water.

half pan fits perfectly in the SVS to keep floating objects immersed

2.  Beat egg whites and salt to stiff peaks. Place the cutter on a flat surface and lay one sheet of clingfilm over it, making a depression in the film where the cutter is. Spoon beaten egg white into the depression until the cutter is nearly full.

cutter lined with clingfilm filled with stiff egg white

Gently place the egg yolk on top of the white.

yolk rests on bed of white

Spoon just enough white over the yolk to cover it.

covered with white

Gather the clingfilm as though it is a satchel, and tie it tightly just at the top of the egg white so you have a little beggar’s purse.

gathered

Quickly repeat for remaining eggs. (For immersion circulator method, tie your beggar’s purses around the heavy objects so they will remain immersed in the water bath.)

beggar's purse

3. Drop the soufflés in the water bath (for sous vide supreme, cover with half pan so that pan keeps soufflés immersed, then fill half pan with water for stability). SET A TIMER for 24 minutes.  Turn the oven on broil.

4. Once 24 minutes has elapsed, remove the purses from the water bath, quickly and carefully untie them, and place them tie side up on a parchment-lined baking sheet, taking care not to rip the soufflé (a small rubber spatula works well here).

5. Place them on medium rack in oven under broiler and WATCH CAREFULLY. When the soufflé just begins to brown at the top, remove from oven. This could be anywhere from 2-4 minutes. You do not want to overcook or your yolk will lose its runniness.

version made a different day to show the browning you want

To prepare the vegetables:

1. While the soufflés are in the water bath, blanch each vegetable separately in boiling, heavily-salted water until it is crisp tender. Approx 3 minutes for the beets, for the fennel it’s more like 30 seconds, and everything else is somewhere in between.  Remove the vegetables to individual ice baths.
2. In a large sauté pan, render the Jamón until it is nearly crisp. Add the butter and garlic. Sauté for 1 minute. Add the remaining vegetables and sauté for an additional 3 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the cream and adjust the seasonings.

To serve:

1. Place a mound of vegetables in the center of a plate or shallow bowl. You can use a round cutter to keep the vegetables in order if you want a nice presentation.
2. Gently place soufflés atop the vegetables. The real drama happens when you cut into a soufflé and the yolk comes gushing out, coating the vegetables.

FYI- no corn here. Those are egg yolks, baby.

Hear that? It’s the collective sigh of food bloggers across the continent steeling themselves for the inevitable 4pm sunsets, hence no natural light in which to take decent pictures of their plates. Sorry these photos lack finesse- I promise to lug out ye old studio light kit asap.

How have I never done this before? I LOVE eggs. I LOVE butter. Why oh why did I not think to poach eggs in butter? Because I’m not a genius like Grant Achatz. Though I do have a few good years left in me to enjoy the wonder of egg yolks positively oozing with unctuous butter, so in that regard I’m fortunate to have discovered it now. It’s probably better- truth be told- that I didn’t cut my teeth on buttery yolk drops- my ass would be a doublewide by now if I had. I’m going to stop right now and tell you that if you value your girlish figure and you don’t run a gazillion miles a week or schlup up the stairmaster whilst watching dishy soaps, you might not want to keep reading this.

Alright, now that the crazies are gone, let’s get down to business. Let me just finish licking a stray yolk drop up off the floor. Yes, these little protuberant pearls of giddy gold fall into the rare category of floor-licking good. Have you ever done that before? C’mon, be honest, I really want to know how many of you have licked something up off the floor. I fully admit I have. Your turn. A few years ago we came up with this scale for wine:

1. Wouldn’t even serve it to your senile Grandpa who lives by the crick and thinks Bud is beer
2. Might pass it off at a giant party around 2am when no one can tell the difference anyway
3. Would drink it from a flask at the rodeo, but never from stemware at home
4. A passable daily drinker- potentially comes in a spacebag
5. 12 person dinner party wine- can’t spend too much but clearly must be palatable
6. Would be mildly upset if you spilled a glass of this one
7. If it were corked, you might drink it anyway because the last bottle was so damn good
8. You secretly horde this bottle in the back room during parties, and pour yourself pint-sized glasses when you sneakily refill
9. Cry genuine tears if you accidentally somehow shatter this bottle
10. Lick up off the floor any spilled drops, even if the floor is at a hoedown

The list works decently well for food too, though you have to change some of the analogies. These yolk drops are Bo Derek on the scale- a perfect 10- and I’m not the only one who thinks so. These babies pleased everyone from the toddler to the “selective” husband to the tile-lapping cat to the punch-drunk neighbor.

The method? Heat an inch of clarified butter in a small saucepan to 170°F. Drop whisked, uniform egg yolks into butter using a caviar pipette, syringe, or even a careful hand and a small spoon. Keep the drops separate from one another in the butter, and after ten seconds or so once they’ve sufficiently hardened on the exterior, jostle them around a bit to prevent them from sticking to the pan. Once they rise to the top, scoop them out with a straining spoon and let them drip off in a strainer until you’re ready to use them.

I served these exactly as Grant Achatz describes in the Alinea cookbook, with asparagus buds, asparagus bubbles (made from juiced asparagus  foamed with lecithin), lemon puree, and lemon vinaigrette. Then I made them the next day and served them tossed in fresh pasta with a light lemon cream sauce. Then I made them the next day but they didn’t last until dinner because Bentley Danger and I greedily spooned them all out of the strainer and they were gone before I could drop them inside my baked fingerling potatoes. Today I’m going to try really hard to make them last until the potatoes pop out because I think it will be a perfect pairing. I guess what I’m saying is that they are sofa-king good you could eat them with anything. But really, you can’t go wrong with eggs and butter.

*PS- Voting for Project Food Blog Challenge #2- The Classics, is now open. If you thought my The Jetsons: Space Food entry was worthy of advancement, I’d appreciate your vote here.

*Quick preface: Project Food Blog has really brought out the best in bloggers. I have noticed so much camaraderie, generosity and championing of one another’s posts, I am floored. It has been brilliant to read raw words written by real people all across the blogosphere and to laugh, salivate and cringe alongside fellow food aficionados. We are a strong community which has the ability to effect great change in the world, and this is the first I’ve seen of all that energy channeled toward a common goal; consequently I’m giddy with excitement about what the future holds. Voting for this round starts 09.27.10- Hope you’ll think of me.

The goal? Tackle a classic dish from another culture. I have decided to present a culture both near and far to many of our hearts- that of space in the “future,” specifically, The Jetsons. The Jetsons culture is eerily similar to our own in many ways. The buildings are even constructed to resemble the Seattle Space Needle. The food is startlingly different though, since it comes in capsular form. Yes, pill food.  The goal of the challenge is to try and be as true to the actual representation of the culture as possible, so I have undertaken to prepare pills from one specific breakfast in The Jetsons movie.  In the scene, George has toast, eggs, bacon, marmalade, juice and coffee. I have created a coffee and cream capsule, a blood orange marmalade pod, a quail egg and bacon pill resting on a tablet of toast, and a sphere of hot butter.

Lest anyone posit that the Jetsons is not in fact a “culture,” allow me to explain. I believe, as bloggers, we have an obligation to infuse our words with meaning. This is why I try to weave a thoughtful undercurrent into every post, albeit disguised behind tawdry humor and cheap puns. By selecting a subject so seemingly-whimsical as The Jetsons and their galaxy, I can illustrate some similarities and differences inherent to all global cultures in a non-offensive way.

Take for example, sexism. The Jetsons utopia was an imagined fabrication of what life would be like late in the 21^st century in Orbit City as theorized by mid-20^th century cartoon writers.  The whole thing reeks of Mad Men-like sexism that, in the US at least, we are now comfortable enough to laugh at because we know it’s parody. And yet, even in this society sexism is a battle we have only just won. In many cultures the label “sexist” is a non-issue because social parameters that have been in place for centuries render it a moot point. Women do what they do in different given societies- carry water on their head, cook for an extended family of 30, or even marry more than one man (go matrilineal society!). Men do what they do- hunt, play bocce, or amass a coterie of wives.

Cultures have mores because they make sense in the society to which they pertain. What I love about our society (meaning Western culture in general) is that we are constantly challenging what is relevant. For example, we’re well into the 21^st century and most of us sentient beings have realized that love is something to be celebrated regardless if it’s between a woman and a man, a woman and a woman, or a man and a man. We’re still fighting that battle in court, but I’m proud to say I don’t personally know anyone who is mentally-challenged enough to see a problem there.

One final point on why the Jetsons is relevant as a culture as it pertains to food I’d like to address is that many sci-fi enthusiasts envisioned future food as capsular. This is an ALARMING state of affairs! Was food really so bad in the mid-20^th century that everyone from Willy Wonka to Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future resorted to eating foods that were mere shadows of themselves in imagined realms? For that reason I am elated that our love affair with food is once again impassioned.  I want to use my 40 acres (hold the mule, please) of web real estate to bring attention to the notion that I hope food remains just that, food, for a long time to come. Yes, many of us resort to energy bars and effervescent electrolytes when pressed for time, but hopefully we won’t get to the point where we’ll be smashing grass-fed filets into 1” cubes to shave a second off our day full of endlessly ephemeral tasks.

Encapsulating food and making it both look and taste good is hard. I am accustomed to churning big batches of ice cream, smoking 20 pounds of pork belly to make bacon, fabricating a whole duck and tossing it into a sous vide water bath, and extruding enough pasta to feed the Pitt-Jolie clan. In other words, I like to do things from scratch and sometimes they’re kind of “fancy” things that employ molecular gastronomy techniques, but almost always they are high-volume. Food pills are just the opposite, so it was tricky to come up with a way to make tiny parcels both look and taste good.

I thought for a few days about how to encapsulate everything and the first epiphany I had came from pondering eggs. Eggs are a perfect food; nutrient-rich, contained within a membrane- i.e. Mother Nature’s pills. I decided to work with the shape of the egg and thus came up with the bacon eggs and toast tablet. To make it, I sous vided a quail egg, rolled it in bacon, then baked the parcel so that the bacon shrink-wrapped the egg. I froze a baguette then thinly sliced it on a mandoline. Originally I planned to wrap the quail bacon pill with the baguette but it was much prettier without so I left it be aside from a quick jaunt under the broiler.

For the coffee and cream capsule I prepared two agar agar-based puddings, one espresso and one vanilla cream. I formed them by filling sheets of acetate taped into tubes, and then I froze them solid. For the butter sphere, I made molds of beurre monte mixed with calcium lactate and let it soak in a sodium alginate bath for half an hour. After my spheres formed sufficient skins, I removed them to a hot water bath. The effect of this is that while the butter forms an exterior skin, when you slather it on something it is unctuously-melted inside. The butter sphere served with the toast tablet made for quite a bite.

I combined the concept of juice and marmalade to make the blood orange marmalade pod. I started by candying some blood orange peels, but rather than caramelize them in sugar and water, I used blood orange juice. Once the syrup thickened, I molded it and turned it out after it had formed a solid pod.

After I photographed my encapsulated breakfast, I set about to eating it. Every pill was a distillment of its larger format self and therefore intriguing, delicious and novel. The biggest irony, however, is that it took days to create this meal when I could have rendered its current counterpart in mere minutes. Future food may save space, but it certainly didn’t save me any time. Wait- maybe that’s what the robots are for?

Image credit Hanna-Barbera via Universal Studios