The first, a chocolate mousse, care of Julia Child.
The boyfriend came over to dinner a few weeks ago. I made an excellent coq au vin, which I affectionately refer to as Purple Chicken. Quite good, chicken with bacon, mushrooms, assorted aromatic veggies, and a sauce made from red wine. I made the chocolate mousse for dessert, which was fucking great. I used rum, espresso, and the wife's vanilla sugar, and it was, for lack of a more accurate descriptor, perfect. I didn't get an "after" picture, as it would only consist of two adorable people shoving puffy chocolate into their mouths at top speed.
The second, a raspberry soufflé, from the Good Housekeeping cookbook.
I was cooking for said boyfriend again last night, made a pretty good pasta dish with bacon (see a theme?) and peas and onions and a bunch of cheese. I was going to make the soufflé for dessert, but we ended up having brie for a starter and were pretty wrapped up in a Dexter marathon, so I decided to make it upon arriving home this afternoon.
The process began with a mild egg white/yolk separation issue, but I recovered well, until I realized that we don't have a soufflé dish. I put it in a bread pan, hoping for the best. However, when the timer buzzed, I pulled this from the oven:
What the fuck is that? A thousand gross zombie and flesh analogies come to mind, but they're too gross to verbalize. The bottom line is that my soufflé fell and it looks gross. I tried a bit of it, and while it's quite tasty, I am finding it difficult to want to continue eating it.
So one success, one not-so-success. The second does not deter me from further attempts, as I want to keep trying this out. Fear not, faithful friends, I have a solid workout routine to combat the increased sugar intake that this project is sure to include. (If the pictures are as gross as that last one, I won't post them. Probably.)
