souffle_girlek | (no subject)

(no subject)

Early in the morning, before most of the bar is awake, a tiny time traveler visits the kitchen. She would stay at home for a late-night snack, usually, but...

Well.

Ace already knows way too much about the Wells' romantic life, and about one picosecond downstairs at the farm let her know that sticking around would only teach her more. And since Bar was getting a break in the quiet hours of the night, Ace decides to fetch a snack herself. It's really too bad she left her current project on top of the microwave when she left.

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"Well, you see, it's not as easy as going 'yay, souffle'... well, actually, that's pretty much the whole plan, but you have to make it a flavor first, and there's all sorts of flavors." Oswin explain, her nerves translating to babble as she leads them into the kitchen.

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Autor draws a deep breath and cracks his first egg. "Whoa," he says, as the liquid pours out. Luckily, he didn't break the yolk, but when he tries to separate the white from it, he fails miserably. Gloppy yellow yolk drips into the mixing bowl.

Oh, well, he thinks. A little yolk in a soufflé isn't going to be too bad. I think.

Oswin looks up from her butter-melting operation and does an admirable job not laughing at the egg-separating disaster.

"No, that one's going to have to be tossed, unless you want a scrambled egg - we put the yolks in the base and then add the whipped whites later, it doesn't work mixed."

She tried that too. One in a long string of failures.

Autor colors spectacularly, jumping when she speaks. The eggshell slips from his fingers and lands with a quiet plop in the now not-separated-at-all eggs. "Oh, um," he says, "well, I- I wasn't thinking of leaving it that way! What kind of cook do you think I am?"

He carries the mixing bowl to the sink and rinses it out before trying to separate the eggs again. This time he manages a little better, but the next one ends up with an eggshell, which he tries to pick out with his fingers. Cooking is so gross.

"A beginner?" Oswin hazards with a grin. "Don't worry, you can beat the whites as much as you want and the souffle still won't come out hard."

Unlike, y'know, certain doughs...

Autor shoots her a Look. "Oh, would you be quiet?" he fusses, working on another egg. "I learned how to make croissants properly eventually. And people love then, I'll have you know."

"I'm sure they're wonderful." Oswin grins crookedly. "I mean, there's lots of military types in here. They can use them as projectile weapons."

Autor scoffs, working on the next egg. "The first ones I baked, perhaps, but I am a croissant expert now. I've only ever burned four batches since then."

"A croissant expert, huh? And somehow my breakfasts are sans-croissant, I find this to be a tragedy, honestly." Oswin makes a sad face at him, while reaching for the sugar to sweeten the base.

Autor glances up at her, nearly dropping his egg. "What! Am I supposed to be providing your breakfasts now? Well, fine, okay, I can do that, but you need to tell me these things, Oswin, I'm not a mind reader."

"You're making croissants that everyone in the bar is raving about and you don't give me any? That's pretty low, you know." She retorts cheerfully.

Autor gasps. "No, no no no, you don't get to do that," the boy says, furrowing his brow as he wipes egg off his fingers. "I have given you croissants before. Good ones, not just the ones where I was learning. Do you want one right now? I'm thinking of trying to make a mocha version."

"No, I don't want one right now, I need egg yolks." Oswin orders, letting the base rest while she fetches lemons to juice.

Autor grumbles something in Greek under his breath, and goes back to the hated chore of separating eggs. He ends up with yolk in his six whites and has to start all over again. Finally, he presents seven pristine whites to Oswin.

"Sheesh. Next time, you're separating the eggs."

"Next time, you're doing this yourself while I do my nails." She retorts, not taking the bowl. "Go on, whip them." After all, she has lemon juice to squeeze.

Autor sighs the sigh of a whipped whipping boy. He dumps the egg whites unceremoniously in the mixer and turns it on. Soon, the whites are stiff and shiny, peaking when he lifts the whisk.

"Well?" he asks her, gesturing to the mixer. "Tell me how well I've done."

Edited 2015-01-29 07:02 (UTC)

"What, I'm your quality checker now? If they're ready, get'm in here." Tough love, that's how to make souffles.

...

Or something like that. Mostly Oswin took the time to make herself a cup of tea and is now comfortable on her stool.

Autor shoots her another Look. "All right," he grumbles, and detaches the bowl from the mixer. "How do I fold them into the base and lemons? Just a little at a time?"

He can shoot all the Looks he wants, she is officially Look-proof. From him, anyway.

"Fold it in by thirds, gently - you just spent a lot of time getting air into those egg whites, it'd be a shame to beat it all back out again.

His Looks are weaker than watered-down coffee anyway.

The boy does as he's told, carefully folding the whipped whites into the lemon and béchamel. "How long do we cook this for?"

"About twenty, twenty-five minutes?" She sets a prepared souffle pan next to the bowl and retreats back to her seat and her tea. "Some of the ovens are a little wonky."

They're not, but shhh. It's a convenient excuse.

"All right," Autor says, transferring the batter into a baking dish. "How hot?"

"Three seventy-five... here, I'll set it." She hops off the stool to mess with the oven. "And then it's a waiting game."

Autor carefully sets the baking dish on the oven rack after it's preheated. He pulls a pack of cards out of his pocket. "Ever played Old Maid?"

Twenty-five minutes and twelve lost matches later, he opens the oven door to take the soufflé out to cool.

Oswin sits back on her stool, watching. For the record, it's a bit odd watching someone else take food out of the oven.

"So, how does it look?"

"Like a soufflé, I assume," Autor deadpans. He adjusts his glasses at her, huffing without making a sound. "Want to cut into it?"

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Autor is crap at separating eggs

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Re: Autor is crap at separating eggs

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Re: Autor is crap at separating eggs

Re: Autor is crap at separating eggs

Re: Autor is crap at separating eggs

Re: Autor is crap at separating eggs

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Re: Autor is crap at separating eggs