It is very hard to believe it, but I am going to Russia next week. I have scheduled a jam-packed ten days of sightseeing in Moscow and St. Petersburg and have been doing a lot of research into can’t-miss restaurants. While some may not be enthused about the prospects of Russian dining, I have loved caviar on potato rounds with crème fraiche since I was three, and I can assure you I’m ready to return to this country with my maximum allotment of sea jewels. Over the past few weeks as I’ve perused restaurant menus at Russia’s most formal dining establishments, I’ve noticed an amusing theme among them: a sort of “France in 1958″ vibe that I simply can’t get enough of.

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It’s apparently “throwback French food” week here at The Kitchen Chronicles, so I’m topping Tuesday’s duck confit with the MOST classic (retro, even) of them all, crème brûlée. This poor dessert has been overdone by restaurants to the point of no return, but it just doesn’t even matter. I still order it, I still find it to be delicious, simple perfection, and I still found myself setting off my smoke alarm with my crème brûlée blowtorch a few Mondays ago. Classic.

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I think there comes a time in any self-proclaimed cook’s journey when the soufflé enters the scene. You’ve mastered a flaky pie crust, you can cook a lamb chop to perfection – you haven’t even burned a batch of caramel in as long as you can remember. But as you’re hitting this culinary plateau, in the back of your mind there is always the soufflé, the ultimate Everest of baking, and the question of whether or not you can make one.

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