Goat’s cheese soufflé and Niçoise salad (Southern France and Monaco)

Whenever movies throw down an impossible cooking challenge, it’s almost always a soufflé, isn’t it? Well, challenge accepted—though with a fair bit of hesitation. The soufflé’s origins trace back to 18th-century Paris, and while it’s now beloved across all of France, I’ve cheekily included it here as a “southern” French dish.

The trick with a soufflé lies in its name, derived from the French verb “souffler,” meaning “to inflate.” This magic comes from egg whites whipped to stiff peaks, gently folded into a flavorful base that can be sweet or savory—think chocolate or cheese classics. The mixture is poured into ramekins and baked at high heat (and crucially, the oven door must stay shut!) until it puffs up into glorious, airy pillows of deliciousness.

I followed the recipe to the letter—a rarity for me—making a thick base from milk, flour, and butter, then letting it cool before blending in creamy goat cheese, fresh herbs, and egg yolks. The final, delicate step was folding in the beaten egg whites. My oven might have betrayed me slightly, as only the ramekins at the back fully rose, but I was thrilled with the texture and flavor. I wasn’t quite fast enough with the camera to capture the full rise—these recipes are serious when they say “serve immediately!”

Niçoise salad, on the other hand, is safely rooted in southern France, named after the city of Nice. It began as humble fare for the poor, made from fresh garden produce, but has since earned its place as a salad champion—praised by culinary greats like Delia Smith and Gordon Ramsay.

Niçoise was a childhood favorite of mine (I admit I was a quirky kid), so I eagerly put together the classic components: boiled potatoes, black olives, tuna, crisp lettuce, red onion, hard-boiled egg, blanched green beans, and glorious anchovies. As a child, I’d stealthily fish anchovies off others’ plates and convince my Mum to pile on more. I never understood why some people dislike anchovies—they’re pure umami, salty, oily goodness.

To finish, I drizzled a red wine vinegar and Dijon mustard dressing over the salad. There’s an ongoing, passionate debate about the “correct” Niçoise—arguments over cooked vegetables, or whether egg and tuna should coexist. Avoiding the fray, I won’t claim mine as the definitive recipe; it’s simply the one I learned from my beloved Mum, making it special to me—and now, to this blog. Plus, it’s absolutely delicious!

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