Cheese soufflé: ninety seconds of glory, then it's all downhill.
The soufflé is not a trick — it's just respect for eggs and heat. In winter, when Paris is grey and the markets smell like root veg and cheese, this is what you cook to remind yourself that butter and air can make something worth talking about. Comté from the Jura, Gruyère from the Alps — both have been ageing through the cold months, both are at their nuttiest.
Melt butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat until it froths and smells sweet — about 2 minutes. Whisk in flour to form a paste; stir for 3 minutes until it stops smelling raw and turns pale biscuit. Warm milk in a jug; pour it slowly into the roux whilst whisking like your life depends on it. Keep going for another 5 minutes until it's thick, glossy, and coats the back of a spoon.
Remove from heat. Let it cool for 2 minutes — you don't want scrambled eggs. Grate Comté and Gruyère straight into the pan. Stir until completely melted and glossy. Separate your eggs. Whisk yolks one at a time into the cheese sauce, stirring thoroughly between each one. Season with salt, pepper, and a small grating of nutmeg — taste it.
In a spotlessly clean bowl, whip egg whites with a tiny pinch of salt until they form stiff, glossy peaks that stand proud when you lift the whisk. This takes about 4–5 minutes with an electric mixer, longer with a balloon whisk and patience. Do not walk away. When they're ready, a peak should not collapse.
Add one-third of the whites to the cheese sauce and fold with a rubber spatula, turning the bowl rather than stirring — this breaks down the whites just enough to loosen the base. Now fold in the remaining whites in two additions, turning and cutting through the middle, turning the bowl, folding until no white streaks remain but the mixture is still light and billowing.
Preheat oven to 190°C. Brush four 200ml ramekins with soft butter, coating every millimetre inside. Dust lightly with grated Parmesan or finely grated Gruyère — this helps the soufflé grip and climb. Pour the mixture to just below the rim. Place on a baking sheet (easier to handle), slide into the oven.
Bake for 18–22 minutes. The soufflé should climb 5–7cm above the rim, be golden-brown on top, and jiggle very slightly — a bare millimetre of wobble at the centre, not a wave. If it seems too pale at 18 minutes, give it another 2–3. Open the oven door as little as possible — a draught is its enemy.
The moment it comes out, dust lightly with fleur de sel if you like, place each ramekin on a small plate, and walk it to the table. Set it down and eat it while it's still warm and towering. After two minutes, it will begin to settle. This is not a disaster — it will still taste of cheese and butter and eggs — but the theatre is gone.
“Bring each ramekin to the table on a small plate with a folded napkin underneath to keep the heat. A simple green salad dressed with sherry vinegar and walnut oil on the side is all you need — the soufflé needs nothing but a spoon and immediate attention. If you're serving this as part of a tasting menu, slip a small ramekin next to a bowl of light consommé or a sharp tomato coulis for contrast.”
First spoonful: warm, airy, almost cloud-like on the tongue, then the cheese — nutty Comté and deep Gruyère — hits like a savory avalanche. As you eat, the inside is barely set, custardy, rich with egg yolk. The edges are slightly firmer but never rubbery. By the last spoonful, it's a memory of butter and cheese suspended in air that you've already eaten.
Replace the butter and milk béchamel with a plant-based version: use 40g vegan butter and proceed exactly as above, then swap the milk for unsweetened oat or almond milk (250ml). For the cheese, use 80g nutritional yeast mixed with 20g ground cashews and 5ml white miso paste (whisked into the hot béchamel) plus 60g vegan Gruyère alternative (brands like Honestly Tasty or Follow Your Heart work). Separate the aquafaba from five tins of chickpeas (or use 200ml bottled aquafaba), add a pinch of salt and a squeeze of lemon juice, then whip to stiff peaks exactly as you would egg whites — it takes slightly longer but works. Fold through identically. The result is lighter and slightly less rich, but still rises, still puffs, still tastes like a proper soufflé made of cheese and eggs if you squint.
Herbaceous, bright, cuts through the richness like a knife through cheese — Alpine clarity meets Parisian lunch
Honeyed minerality, enough body to hold the soufflé's weight, finishes dry and warming
Fruity, slightly spiced, enough alcohol and body to stand up to melted cheese without overwhelming it
Crisp, faintly sweet, effervescence cuts through richness like wine would
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