Soufflé de Chicorée

Soufflé de Chicorée (braised chicory soufflé) teaches the first law of every vegetable soufflé: the base must be drier than seems reasonable. Chicory brings bitterness and water in equal measure. Drive off that water before the egg whites enter, and they can lift the purée into a tall, tender crown; leave it wet, and no heroic whisking will save it.

The classical entry assumed a cook already fluent in the ordinary Soufflé, a buttered timbale at hand, and an oven whose hot spots were known by instinct. It asks for no saucier, no stockpot kept alive, and no salamander. The honest home equivalents are a 1-quart straight-sided dish, a fully preheated oven, and a kitchen timer. Its proportions are already right for four side servings, so nothing has been cut. The brigade scaffolding is only the shorthand. The braising, sieving, drying, and folding are the dish, and they remain intact: one cook, one stove, one evening.

When the Soufflé is right, its Parmesan crown stands bronzed above the rim while the center stays pale, tender, and gently bitter. Before you touch the whites, press the chicory through the sieve and dry it in the pan until it holds a furrow. That is the step that matters most.