Cinephile Simone Poggi left his native Emilia-Romagna for the French Riviera, trading legal briefs and tailored suits for artisanal catering platters and a chef’s apron. A unique journey well worth the risk.

An Italian courtroom never quite felt like home to Simone Poggi. After years of practising law in his native Piacenza, that quiet city of the Po Valley where fog settles low and cultural traditions run deep, he found himself craving something his profession could not provide. The work satisfied his intellect, offered structure and predictability, yet left him feeling disconnected from something essential.

The answer came gradually… and then hit him all at once. Life brought him to Nice, where the Mediterranean light offered a different kind of clarity. In the Mont Boron hills above the city, Simone began creating what he calls ‘edible compositions’… culinary platters that fall somewhere between gourmandise and artwork – so precise and beautiful they might be mistaken, at first glance, for an Arcimboldo painting.

Photo © Cécile Giret

Simone’s catering work reflects not only his legal training’s precision and his native city’s visual restraint – but also his love for cinema. He therefore aptly named his service Pane e Tulipani after Silvio Soldini’s 2000 film about a woman who chooses an unplanned life over a predetermined one. The reference also captures something else central to Simone’s own journey: not rebellion, but a quiet redirection towards authenticity.

Piacenza shaped him in ways that remain visible in his work today. The city breeds a particular kind of aesthetic sensibility – understated, considered, allergic to ostentation. This sensibility transfers directly to Simone’s trays, where each element earns its place through careful consideration of colour, weight, temperature, and memory. His ingredients come exclusively from independent Italian producers, presented with an attention to detail that recalls both structured thinking and the visual discipline of his homeland.

Working alone from his unpretentious kitchen, Simone constructs platters that exist somewhere between art and hospitality. Each composition is unique, responding to the season, the occasion, the mood. He maintains no fixed menu, preferring instead to work within the rhythm of what’s available and what feels right. The process begins in silence and ends in sharing – a transformation from solitude to sociability that seems to mirror his own journey.

His website speaks in the first person, direct and unadorned. Visitors find no inflated claims or marketing speak, just clear descriptions of a practice that values form as much as flavour. This clarity feels contemporary rather than nostalgic – conscious of time and selective about how it is spent. Simone writes about his work with the same precision he brings to its creation, describing a philosophy that prizes sincerity over spectacle. The photography is a work of art in itself, creating a feast for the eyes before Simone’s creations become a feast for the palate: wheels of parmesan alongside scattered pistachios, ribbons of prosciutto draped over wooden boards, fresh burrata nestled among herbs. Yet the images never feel staged or performative. The aesthetic draws from both Italian traditions and contemporary sensibilities, creating something that feels both timeless and current and that weaves seamlessly into Simone’s philosophy.

The platters themselves resist easy categorisation. Neither rustic nor ornamental, they suggest abundance without excess, care without fussiness, and are designed for engagement rather than mere display. The Italian signature and hallmark is all over. Simone sources cherry tomatoes from Sicily, aged cheeses from small dairies, breads baked according to traditional methods. These ingredients find themselves arranged in compositions that honour their origins whilst creating something entirely new.

Simone’s transition from Piacenza to Nice, from one profession to another, represents more than a career change; it signals a deeper shift in priorities. Where his previous work demanded adherence to established precedents, his culinary practice allows for improvisation within structure. A seasonal flower might transform an entire composition; an unexpected ingredient might redirect his thinking. If every now and then, the green, white and red colours of the Italian flag pop up, that is more of a decision based on the ingredients’ taste than a deliberate reflection of homeland pride. This openness to spontaneity, balanced against rigorous preparation, creates work that feels both considered and alive.

The success of Pane e Tulipani lies partly in its refusal to conform to conventional catering categories. Simone creates not just food but experiences, moments of connection facilitated by careful attention to detail. His clients do not simply order platters; they commission edible stories that reflect their own gatherings and celebrations. And the names of the plates always have a cinematic theme.

This approach resonates particularly in an era when authenticity feels increasingly rare. Simone’s willingness to share his personal journey, including the uncertainties that led him to change direction, and his absolute fascination with cinema, creates connections that extend beyond the commercial transaction. Clients engage not just with his food but with the philosophy behind it – a belief that beauty and sincerity can transform everyday moments into something memorable.

Working between Italy and France, Simone occupies a unique position. His Italian heritage provides the foundation – the understanding of how food creates community, how meals become rituals of connection. His French residence offers perspective, allowing him to translate these traditions for a different context whilst preserving their essential character.

The film that inspired his company’s name tells of transformation through small acts of courage. Rosalba, the protagonist, doesn’t dramatically rebel but simply follows her instincts towards a more authentic life. Simone’s own story echoes this theme: the quiet decision to leave what was expected for what felt true, the gradual building of something personal and meaningful.

Such a unique life story and the resulting mouthwatering creations made us curious to learn more, so we sat down with Simone to explore his motivations in greater detail.

The film Pane e Tulipani inspired not only your name, but also your philosophy. If your own journey had a cinematic parallel, what scene from your life would reflect Rosalba’s awakening?

Without question, the simple yet powerful moment when I decided to stop lying to myself. To walk away from a path that was all mapped out, seemingly comfortable, but in which I no longer recognised myself. Like Rosalba, I changed direction, not on a whim, but on a whim of the heart. I listened to what had long been calling me: to create, to host, to share. That was the moment when my own story shifted — gently, but with clarity.

Your biography suggests that food became a form of rebirth after a rupture. How did it feel to prepare your very first tray for a paying client — not professionally, but emotionally?

It was not a personal rupture, but a professional reconversion, a deep turning point in my life. Preparing that first tray felt like giving form to an idea I had carried within me for a long time. There was emotion, pride, and a certain vulnerability too. I was alone in my kitchen, focused on the smallest detail, and yet I felt connected to something far larger: the pleasure of giving pleasure, the joy of sharing. It was the beginning of something sincere.

There is a striking duality in your work: a convivial, rooted cuisine presented with aesthetic rigour. Do you think this tension reflects part of your personality?

Absolutely. I am both grounded and demanding. I come from a culture where conviviality is sacred, where we cook to bring people together, but I also need beauty, order, harmony. That tension between warmth and structure is everywhere — in my trays, in my sources of inspiration, in the way I approach the everyday. It is a form of balance that suits me.

You describe yourself as someone who works alone — and yet your creations are made to be shared. Is there a quiet contradiction between the solitude of your practice and the sociability of the result?

I think it is precisely the solitude that allows me to create things meant for sharing. Working alone gives me the space I need to compose, to reflect, to apply myself to every detail. But what I create only makes sense if it is shared. There is something very intimate in this process: I am alone with my work, but always turned towards others.

Like an auteur filmmaker, you choose everything — ingredients, composition, atmosphere. Where do you draw the line between control and spontaneity?

It is a shifting boundary. I need a structure, lines, a clear vision. But once everything is in place, the magic often comes in the final moments, when a seasonal flower or an unexpected colour changes everything. I try to remain open to what happens in the moment. Like in Italian cooking: a solid base, and a touch of inspired improvisation.

Pane e Tulipani seems to exist in a suspended space — between Italy and France, past and present, rustic and refined. Do you ever feel as though you are cooking for a culture that no longer quite exists?

Perhaps… but that is exactly what touches me. I cook to bring back a certain idea of connection, of time taken, of the table laid with care. This culture of slowness, of detail, of real flavour… it sometimes fades in our modern lives. But it is still there — in our memories, our roots, our emotions. I believe I cook to revive it.

There is a form of romantic idealism in your work — sourcing from small Italian producers, seeking visual harmony. Is this quest for beauty a discipline, or a form of resistance?

It is both. A discipline, because it takes work, time, rigour. And a resistance, because in a world where everything has to be fast, profitable, optimised, I choose to do things slowly, beautifully, sincerely. Beauty is not a luxury, it is a basic need. It elevates, it touches, it connects.

You once said cooking was a way of rebuilding yourself. Now that Pane e Tulipani has found success, do you still feel the same intimacy with the creative act, or has the ritual changed?

The ritual has certainly evolved. There are more expectations, more pressure at times. But the intimacy with the gesture is still there. It is a separate, almost sacred space. When I compose a tray, I find again that feeling of being fully present, fully connected to what I am doing. Success should never erase that essential part of the work: the sincerity of the act.

Many caterers hide behind their brand. You have done the opposite — sharing your path, your values, even your failures. What led you to build a business with such vulnerability?

I do not know how to do it differently. Pane e Tulipani is me. My doubts, my choices, my influences. I believe that today, people want authenticity. They no longer want to just consume, they want to understand, to feel the intention. By speaking openly, I believe I have created a business that touches people beyond the product itself.

If you could prepare a tray not for a client, but for a version of yourself ten years ago, what would you include — and what would you want him to understand?

I would make a simple, vibrant tray. Some stracciatella, Sardinian bread, fresh figs, a sliver of aged pecorino. And I would say to him: “Look what you can create with little, as long as your heart is in it. Do not be afraid to be different. What you are is your strength. Make something beautiful with it.”

From law to food, from Piacenza to Nice, from solitude to sharing, and surrounded by ingredients that connect him to Italian soil and traditions that stretch back generations and connect both Mediterranean countries – Simone instinctively understands how to translate the conviviality of Italian culture and present it through a contemporary lens that speaks to clients across cultural boundaries. His story echoes the quiet poetry of Pane e Tulipani, the film. Like Rosalba, he found that changing direction did not mean abandoning everything; it simply meant choosing authenticity over expectation, creation over convention, through accumulated small decisions rather than dramatic gestures. Every platter tells that story. And that, in the end, is Simone’s real magic.

Livraison: Friday and Saturday from 4-6 pm in zip codes 06300, 06230, 06360, 06320 and Monaco

Call & Collect: 112, avenue du Mont Alban, 06300 Nice

Phone / Whatsapp : +33(0)6 37 40 11 78

Orders to be placed 48 h in advance

If ordering in English, please send a message by WhatsApp

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Photos courtesy and © Simone Poggi, Pane e Tulipane, with kind permission, unless otherwise credited