My grandmother made soufflés on Sundays. They always rose. They always fell before anyone could photograph them. And they were always, without exception, magnificent. I spent twenty years trying to understand why.
The soufflé is often described as the most temperamental of preparations — something to be feared. I have come to see it differently. A soufflé is not temperamental; it is honest. It responds precisely to what you give it. Our Valrhona Chocolate Soufflé took four months to perfect. I made it, roughly, four hundred times. The failures taught me more than the successes.
