With a little cream, a swirl of egg white and the freshest of fruit, you can create a cloud of flavor that is as delicious as it is gorgeous. Among the possibilities are these, clockwise from front: blackberry, apricot and strawberry.

Even when I was child, so small I had to stand on a chair to reach the counter, I wanted to cook. I wanted to cook not because I knew anything about ingredients and what they had to offer, but because I wanted to "make something." Cooking was like an edible game.

I still want to make something. As surely as cooking is all about the ingredients, cooking is all about the cook. So as an adult, I might have more respect for the ingredients, but my inner cook still wants to get into the kitchen and play. These days, cooking is about that dynamic tension between what's already there and what I do with it.

I'm hard pressed to enhance an apricot. How could I possibly improve upon what the apricot tree has already done? Can any sauce do more for an oyster than the bit of seawater trapped inside its shell? The greens from my garden need me less than I need them. Still, I will pit the apricot and warm it up before I plant it on top of an almond cake. I'll chill the oyster and open a bottle of sauvignon blanc before I shuck it. And the greens won't come to the table until they have become acquainted with some olive oil and garlic.

Makes 6
2 pints strawberries 1 cup egg whites 1 teaspoon lemon juice 1 teaspoon salt 1 cup sugar 1/3 cup water 1 cup heavy cream, well-chilled 1. Cut six pieces of parchment into strips 3 inches high by 12 inches long. Wrap the parchment around six 4-ounce soufflé dishes and tape to secure. Put the wrapped dishes on a tray in the freezer. 2. Mash the strawberries. Use a blender, a food mill or a food processor to make a smooth purée, then put it in a large mixing bowl in the freezer. 3. Put the egg whites, lemon juice and salt in a clean, dry mixing bowl and whisk briefly to combine. Put the sugar and water in a saucepan over high heat and stir until the syrup is just beginning to boil. While the syrup is boiling, whip the egg whites until they are holding stiff peaks. Gradually stream the boiling syrup into the egg whites, whipping all the while. The hot syrup will give the meringue extra loft. 4. Put the bowl of meringue inside a bigger bowl full of ice. Pack the ice up around the smaller bowl. Every few minutes, give the meringue a stir with a rubber spatula to release the heat. 5. While the meringue is cooling, whip the heavy cream until it is stiff. 6. Fold the cooled meringue into the puréed strawberries, then fold in the whipped cream. Pack the soufflé mixture into the chilled soufflé dishes and freeze for four hours or until completely firm. At serving time, remove the paper collars and sprinkle the soufflés with powdered sugar. Printer friendly version.

In summer, the games I play with food are more about strategy than skill. But every now and then, the inner cook takes over and I pull out all the stops. A strawberry is not enough and strawberry shortcake is too mundane. Sometimes, I look at a strawberry and all I can see is an image from Roger Vergé's 1986 book, "Entertaining in the French Style." Cocoa-glazed strawberry soufflés stand on a marble table in front of an open window. "Oh, that looks like fun," I say, and I'm in the kitchen beating egg whites before I can stop myself.

A frozen soufflé is one of those dishes that make non-cooks wonder, "How did you do that?" With hands on hips and a shrug of the shoulders, a satisfied cook can honestly say, "It's easy."

In "The Four Seasons Cookbook" from as long ago as 1971, James Beard and Charlotte Adams summed up the whole operation in less than 50 words. The more verbose Vergé spends 500 words and then some to describe what is essentially the same procedure. Take some fruit and purée it. Fold in Italian meringue and whipped cream, and freeze it. There you are.

Zephyr-light, fruit-flavored cream is piled high above the edges of a dish, neat as a newly folded napkin. The fruit itself is vanished, but its essence is there, swirling inside whipped egg whites and cream like a genie in a bottle.

To become a master of frozen soufflés, start with perfect ingredients. The fruit should be very ripe, almost over-ripe so its flavor will shine through the cloud of whipped stuff that envelops it. Take time to make a very stable meringue and chill it thoroughly before folding in the other ingredients. When folding in the cream, be gentle so the air trapped inside is not lost.

Once you grasp the technique, consider variations. Any summer fruit will make a fine frozen soufflé. If you use blackberries or raspberries, strain out the seeds, and if you use peaches, slip off their skins. In winter, use citrus fruits. A little zest from the skin and the juice of some oranges will make a fine frozen soufflé. A decadent cook might even forgo the fruit altogether and opt instead for a quarter pound of bittersweet chocolate melted in half a cup of strong coffee.

As long as the fruit — or chocolate — you start with is good, the frozen soufflé will be good, and you will have a grand time in the kitchen. Best of all, you will feel like you have really made something.

Greg Atkinson is executive chef at Canlis and chef at the Puget Sound Environmental Center. He is author of "The Northwest Essentials Cookbook" (Sasquatch Books, 1999). Barry Wong is a Pacific Northwest magazine staff photographer.