Oswin

"I made you a souffle, but it was too beautiful to live."
--Doctor Who, "Asylum of the Daleks"

 Call day number 3 (or is it more like 243?)

Dear Mum,

Nothing new to report.  Had to do another admission first thing this morning.   I keep hoping if I'm grouchy enough they'll go away, but it doesn't seem to be working.  Phone reception's still on the blink, but I'm working on it.  Okay, not really.  The baking's going really well.  Luv, and talk to you soon.  By the way, happy un-birthday.








So am I sitting on a pallet in the Dalek Asylum with Carmen blaring and a mess in the kitchen?  Obviously not.  I'm also a bit older than Clara Oswald, truth be told.  And she's not a character people warm up to quickly: Mary Sue to the umpteenth degree, the perfect companion, pretty and annoyingly smart and resourceful, bold as brass, and utterly devoid of personality.  Except...

I considered being an English teacher as a kid (top 3 choices were 1) teacher, 2) doctor, and 3) writer).  My bucket list contains at least 101 places to see, and who says I'm not going to?  I fancy the Doctor, or someone like him.  And most importantly....when I stress out, I make desserts.

These days, I can make a perfectly reasonable pouring custard, a decent flan, a simple chocolate mousse that's to die for, and the occasional meringue.  But what is it with souffles?

How bad can it possibly be?  Preheat oven.  Grease and sugar baking receptacle.  Separate eggs.  Mix non-egg-white ingredients together.  Whip egg whites into submission.  Fold other ingredients in evenly without letting too much air out.  Pour into baking receptacle, run thumbnail around edges to separate, and pop in oven.  Bake for 30 minutes and do not touch/shake/breathe on it until golden brown on top and fully risen.

So why, oh why, when it starts out so promising (above), does it invariably come out like it's had the stuffing kicked out of it (right)?  Answer me that, baking deities.  'Cause right now my two potential explanations are 1) I'm using the wrong receptacle (yes, I know that's a ramekin, but on call is not the time to go out and purchase special souffle dishes), and 2) souffles just don't like me.  I suspect the latter.

Eh, on second thought, I know a few places I'd like to shove a souffle right about now (besides in my face).  Have pie instead.  I call it the "Waldorf," as a play on the pear and cheese theme.  You will need:

1-1/2 cups flour
1 stick butter (cold)
about 1/2 cup water
1 medium pear (Anjou today)
splash of bourbon
4 oz cream cheese
1 tablespoon sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

For crust: Cut butter into small pieces and cut/work into flour until mixture resembles damp breadcrumbs.  Work in water in about 1-tablespoon increments until dough just forms.  Form into ball and refrigerate about 20-40 minutes.

For filling: Cut pear into slices, add splash of bourbon and mix together.  In a separate bowl, soften cream cheese (you can nuke it in the microwave, nobody will judge you), add sugar, and whisk together.

Roll out dough to size specifications of pie plate (you should use about 3/5 of it on the bottom and 2/5 on top).  Press larger dough circle into pie plate.  Add pear/bourbon mixture, then spread cream cheese on top.  Cover with smaller dough circle and press edges together to seal.  Poke holes on top with fork, knife, or whatever sharp object you desire (may I suggest leaving the chainsaw for bigger projects?), enough to allow moisture/steam to vent while cooking.

Bake 45 minutes or until crust just turns light gold on top.  Allow to cool, and serve by itself or with creamy topping of choice (I'll leave that to your warped imagination for now, thanks).

Why?  Because one day I'd like a t-shirt (or apron) that says, "Cooking is how I keep from killing people."  Until then, impromptu pie recipes for the (Os)win!  Now eyes front, soldier, and get cracking.  Eggs...terminate.