SHOW STEALER: Chef Alain Roux’s raspberry soufflés leave the Pink Lady breathless

The French phrase à bout de souffle means “breathless”, and Chef Alain Roux’s warm raspberry soufflé left me gasping with epicurean admiration. This ethereal pink puff was served at the Mount Nelson Hotel during a recent culinary residency by the Franco-British gastronomic great. It was one of several delightful dishes that Roux and his right-hand man, Chef Michael Nizzero, brought to Cape Town from their three-Michelin-starred Waterside Inn in Bray, England. 

From the first truffle croque monsieur canapé to the final matcha madeleine, everything was exquisite. And yet, even amid the likes of celestial seared scallops with vadouvan sauce and a heavenly caramelised shallot, thyme tarte tatin, it was easy to identify the twinkliest of twinkle, twinkle stars in the fine-dining firmament.

A successful soufflé feels more like magic than cooking. Its exquisite essence is whipped up and folded through with culinary contradictions. Blithely untroubled by the laws of physics. Simultaneously strong enough to defy gravity yet luminously light and deliciously delicate, a soufflé is the prima ballerina of the egg-white world. With manners to match. 

Soufflés are definitely divas. A diner requests the honour of an audience with the frothed up grande dame well in advance. And then waits while the dessert takes its sweet time. In the kitchen, no one may so much as touch the oven door until the soufflé says so. And then all eyes in the restaurant must turn to witness its arrival at the table. Not only those eyes receiving the soufflé. All eyes. At every table. Ooohs and aahs are expected.

In transit, each confectionary cloud demands its own devoted bearer – how else can the soufflé’s servant upon arrival slit the top and perform the theatre of pouring silky-smooth coulis into its heart of berry bliss? Sauce meets soufflé, contrasting cold and hot. Elizabeth Taylor is introduced to Richard Burton. And let us not forget that, to achieve that seedless, gossamer mouthfeel, someone has spent hours repeatedly pressing said sauce through a sieve.

Such ceremony is only justified if the result lives up to expectations. This soufflé definitely did. Perfectly risen, straight sides with a beautiful, flat crust, it was fragrant and featherlight. Carrying the subtle sweet promise of summer. Sufficiently sour to avoid cloying cuteness. An icing sugar dusted exterior resisting momentarily before the scent of raspberry-sugared air escaped on a plume of heat. Tremulous, bouffant warmth then the bright burst of cool, fruit-forward coulis. Each spoon an ecstasy.

A delight, momentarily, meltingly perceived. Mesmerising and magical. No humdrum home cooked DIY will come close, but those wishing to recreate at least some of the delight can watch Chef Nizzero’s recipe and demonstration below.

The problem that a home cook will have is that location was what made the moment. Plate and place united. A pink soufflé served in a pink palace, paired with a pink sparkle of Le Lude brut rosé. The only way the angelic experience could have ascended any further into fairy-tale frivolity was if an engagement ring had been baked into the bottom. Even then, Chef Roux’s soufflé would have stolen the show. DM

Dr Anna Trapido is the Head of Heritage and Narrative Systems at the Chirandu Institute and visited the Mount Nelson in her personal capacity.