1950s Archive

Classes in Classic Cuisine

Entrée Soufflés

Originally Published October 1956

No single food is more essential to French cookery than the egg. The French housewife, faced with a culinary emergency, does not, like her American counterpart, open a can of tuna fish or baked beans. Instead, she breaks some eggs into a bowl and whips up an omelette. The cuisinière in a fine French home, faced with leftover chicken to prepare for luncheon, automatically reaches for the eggs, and the chicken becomes a soufflé do volatile à la feme, a creamy egg concoction puffed to feather lightness under a golden-brown crust.

When I went back to France a couple of years ago, I spent some happy hours reminiscing with my brother Lucien, who is chef des cuisines of that top-ranking Paris hotel, the Plaza-Athénée. I wanted to give a dinner party at the hotel for the American friends who accompanied me to Paris, so I asked Lucien to suggest for the menu one of his own well-known spécialités. He promptly replied. “Soufflé do bomard.” Soufflé do bomard, I thought to myself with a smile. Certainly no New York chef would be likely to make that suggestion!

I must digress for a moment to tell you about the PlazaArthénée. Have you ever been in Paris in April, when the horse-chestnut trees are in their final, vulnerable full bloom and each whisper of the spring breeze sends the petals drifting lazily to the ground? To me, after so many years of New York's hustle and bustle, the gentle fluttering of those petals was symbolic of the relaxed, unharried air of dinnertime in France. In the main dining room of the Plaza-Athénée the same mood prevails. The decor breathes leisure and elegance. High ceilings and heavy rugs discourage noise; three magnificent gold and-crystal chandeliers light the gold damask hangings that cover the window wall; perfectly appointed tables are gay with flowers and gleaming with silver and crystal. As I stood in the doorway of this charming salon and drank in every detail of the scene, I was convinced again that this is one of the loveliest dining rooms in all Paris. Mais, revenons à nos Soufflés. You will want to know what menu we finally decided upon for my party. I still have my copy of the menu, which the Plaza-Athénée, as is the custom of many French hotels of its kind, printed for us as a souvenir of the occasion.

Germiny en Tasse

Pallettes Diablées

Soufflé de Homard Plaza-Athénée

Baron do Pauillac Princesse

Salade de Chicorée aux Fines Herbes

Coeur de Jeannette

Mignaraises

If you have not the good fortune to enjoy the perfect combination of Paris in April, the gold-and-white salon of the Plazn-Athénée; and Lucien's soufflé do homard, you can at least enjoy, as often as you wish and whenever you wish, entree Soufflés. I predict that you will find them more convenient to serve than dessert Soufflés, particularly if you must be both host and cook. An entrée Soufflé can be served at the beginning of the meal, instead of an appetizer or a soup, or as a second course, after the soup. In either case, the soufflé can be slipped into the oven just before the guests come to the table, and you know they will be waiting for it when it comes out, cooked à point. The timing of a dessert Soufflé is much more difficult, since it depends so much upon the rate of the meal's progress.

It is unfortunate that Soufflés have been associated so closely with the intricate mysteries of haute cuisine that many people hesitate to attempt them. Soufflés have been labeled “overly rich,” “very expensive,” and “difficult to make,” but none of these accusations is true. Combine a thick bechamel with a purée of fish, vegetables, poultry or whatever you have, lighten it with eggs, bake it—et voila, a Soufflé. What could be more light and appetizing? And as for the cost, such a soufflé costs hardly more than the cereal, milk, and eggs that make the ordinary breakfast. Furthermore, when you have made Several soufflés, have acquired the “feel” of the mixture, and know the idiosyncrasies of your own oven and how they affect the baking of a Soufflé, the technique of making successful Soufflés becomes second nature.

In classic cuisine, entree Soufflés appear on the menu in several roles. They make a much-favored main course for a light luncheon or supper. At the old Ritz in New York, many guests who lived in Carlton House and ordered their meals from the Ritz kitchen made a habit of lunching at least once a week on a fish, mushroom, or cheese Soufflé. A clear soup of some kind would start the meal and fruit dessert end it; these made a combination hard to surpass as well as one superbly satisfying, yet light and refreshing. In a long dinner menu, on the other hand, the same Soufflés Serve as a first course or as a petite entrée. At my Plaza-Athénée dinner, the Soufflé de bomord was fish course and petite entrée at one and the same time, since it came to the table between the soup and the baron of lamb with its elaborate vegetable garniture.

Our “Classes in Classic Cuisine” for September, which we devoted to dessert soufflés, covered the basic instructions for making Soufflés. Most of this information, which I suggest you reread before attempting the recipes that follow, applies equally well to the entree soufflés. But there are some differences. In the first place, practically all entree Soufflés are made with a thick bechamel to which is added a puree of whatever food is being used. Cheese Soufflés are an exception, since they arc sometimes thickened with bread crumbs, which should be light and fresh so that they combine with the milk to make a smooth, creamy panade. The kind of wet, sticky bread that refuses to crumble will not do for this purpose. These soufflés baked in small ramekins make an excellent first course. Cheese Soufflés made with farina are a trifle heartier, and eminently suitable for a family luncheon. You will notice that I make cheese Soufflés with grated Parmesan or dry Swiss cheese. Cheeses of the Cheddar type are so rich in fat that they tend to make the Soufflé heavy, I think.

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