My first evening in Paris, I got a bit bamboozled by a tourist restaurant. They allowed my solo reservation only for 7PM (first red flag) and upon arriving, the restaurant was already full of Americans. Damnit. I should have done an immediate about-face, but there was an image of an onion soup/souffle combo that I just couldn’t get out of my head. Plus, how the table next to me have translated the menu without my help. Ha.

Table for one. Great people watching to see the comings and goings of the tourist industry.

This image is what I came for- onion soup with a side car of a savory souffle. In retrospect, I have no idea what a souffle is meant to be, but this one was very eggy and sort of wet. Is that normal? Visions of my doctor telling me to not eat uncooked eggs danced in my head and I basically gave it a few good poke arounds for optimal deflation.

For my main I opted for scallops because two (or three) souffles felt aggressive, yet people were making entire meals out of them. Gag. Unfortunately, this was another poor call. The scallops literally tasted like charcoal swimming in God knows what. The fries were nice, but who serves scallops with fries. Oy.

While I will not be returning to Souffle, they definitely have their schtick and clientele down pat. Souffle, no way.