Alpine Eating

One bite in Bangkok

2012-01-15T10:27:00.000-08:00

If you thought Enrique Iglesias videos were dramatic, you should see what Thai pop has to offer. The lyrics are a mystery to non-Thai speakers, but somehow amputated legs, bullet wounds and broken hearts seem at odds with the happy-sounding songs.

These cinematic musical masterpieces can be seen at Jame’s Pub in Pâquis, a misleadingly named Thai restaurant-cum-karaoke bar where Thai expats come to sing their hearts out with near-professional aplomb.

Monsieur Gourmand and I came for the tom yum soup and spicy papaya salad, both of which had been highly recommended by a friend. He wasn’t wrong – both these dishes, as well as the red curry and delicious dumplings, were flavoursome and warming.

Served by a cheeky waitress making innuendos about bananas and beer froth, and cooked by a slinky dress-wearing lady chef, Jame’s Pub is great value, highly unusual and outrageously entertaining.

Jame's Pub, 64 Rue de Monthoux, Pâquis
022 731 6310

Butter rivals

2011-11-13T05:19:00.000-08:00

Café de Paris had almost enticed us in the past but we were always put off by the nasty station location, sandwiched between a kebab shop and McDonalds. Besides, surely it's not possible that another eaterie could match the tender meat, fiendish frites and sinful green buttery sauce served at Relais de l'Entrecôte?

When we found ourselves on that side of the lake one evening recently we decided to give it a go.

It didn't start well: the salad was without walnuts and the dressing was forgettable. Then the chips arrived on their own.
But things soon started looking up as the waiter set up a stove on our table and our house wine turned out to be a whole litre. At only 35 francs, that’s a good deal (by Geneva standards anyway).

Then the platter of beef arrived, so rare it looked like it had barely touched a pan, embedded in still-solid buttery sauce. Monsieur Gourmand devoured his in a flash regardless; I was more patient, waiting for the butter to melt around my meat.

As with its Rive Gauche rival, sauce is key to Café de Paris' long-lasting success. It was delicious indeed, but not downright addictive like that at Entrecôte. That said, the prices are rather more palatable and you can eat in unhurried peace, making it more than a worthy alternative.

Café de Paris, 26 rue du Mont-Blanc, Cornavin
+41 (0)22 732 8450; www.cafe-de-paris.ch

Battle of the bulge

2011-11-02T09:56:00.000-07:00

Only men mired in the misery of the cold Crimean war - or perhaps Elvis Presley - would have dared dream up something as fiendish as fried cheese balls. While fighting for the French in the battle of Malakoff, it was indeed a group of hungry Swiss soldiers that created the dish of the same name and brought it back home to Vaud... where they found it fitted in very nicely with other hearty Swiss staples such as fondue and cured meat.

These days, the soldiers' story is seldom told, but their “Malakoff” lives on in the Vaud countryside at the Auberge de Luins.

Some like their Malakoffs as a main after a plate of viande sechée and the requisite pickles, but we had them as a starter with a big salad to share. Expecting the cheese to seep out when I pierced it with my knife, I was surprised to find it wasn’t runny, but more congealed and chewy with the cheese absorbed into the bready base. Though undeniably delicious, the Malakoff's fried crust detracted from the flavour of the wine-soaked Gruyère, failing (in my view) to match the melted decadence of a good fondue.

This was followed by a juicy rare rump steak for me and some seasonal venison for Monsieur Gourmand with root vegetables and a deliciously tangy sauce. Both were good, but here the Malakoff is king.

Auberge de Luins, Luins, Vaud
+41 (0)21 824 1159; www.aubergedeluins.ch

Walk to the wild side

2011-09-12T04:38:00.000-07:00

Ever since I happily tucked into a spicy enchilada in Austin, Texas at the age of 7, I’ve been adventurous with food. Not long after that, I experimented with sucking out prawns’ brains at the home of a Chinese family friend and in my late teens I sampled spit-roasted guinea pig in Peru.

Geneva’s most interesting ethnic restaurants – serving Ethiopian, Korean and even Filipino fare – are virtually all in Pâquis, but we hardly ever go there because Monsieur Gourmand can’t face crossing the Mont Blanc bridge. It’s not far; just a boring walk. And in the winter the bitter “Bise” wind batters you every step of the way along the wobbly footpath.

But this is early September with no wind to speak of, so I seized the opportunity to suggest something other than the usual steak and frites in the Old Town. We wandered up to Kirin on rue de Neuchâtel and made ourselves comfortable at one of the pavement tables, taking in the lively atmosphere of prostitutes and Persian rug shops.

Neither of us an expert on Japanese food, we started with a fresh and filling sushi platter as well as some gyoza dumplings. Monsieur Gourmand is the doyen of dumplings and he was most impressed with these ones, which were crispy and crumbly all at once and deliciously seasoned. His main course of crispy shredded beef was sweet, but not too syrupy, and much meatier than those I’ve tried before. Geneva’s Chinese restaurants certainly have a lot to learn.

Although my Teriyaki salmon was tender and tasty, it was perhaps too safe a bet in a restaurant that clearly knows its eel from its octopus. I have since resolved to make more of an effort to test my plucky palate of old. Chilled monkey brain anyone?

Kirin, 4 rue de Neuchâtel, Pâquis
+41 (0)22 738 1288; www.kirin-sushi.com

Tip rip off

2011-08-24T10:40:00.000-07:00

It started well at La Plancha, where I had long yearned to dine under the awnings on a sultry summer night, amid the bustle of Place des Eaux-Vives.

The seemingly friendly and attentive waiter brought us some crusty bread in what looked like an upside down hat and an adorable sack of flaky fleur de sel. But then came the first sign of trouble. They didn't have the wine we wanted so the waiter suggested another. Naturally, it was three times the price. Nice try, scumbag!

When our starter platter of viande sechée arrived, our crafty server muttered something about the cheese coming soon. Cheese? What cheese? Oh, of course, the cheese on my cheeseburger, i.e. my main course, which came one minute later. One minute too late to realise what they had done and cancel the now unnecessary starter...

Grudgingly, I must concede that the burger was juicy and flavoursome, served with red onion, melted cheese, a rather measly rasher of bacon hidden behind the top half of the bun, and tasty frites. But Monsieur Gourmand's steak was disappointingly dull and not seignant by anyone's standards.

The wily waiter tried to hurry us along by repeatedly filling our already full glasses, which only made the wine warm up in the balmy evening air. In a final attempt to fleece us, he suggested we might like to add a tip. Even if they weren't already included in Swiss restaurant bills, which they are, it would have been an empty saucer for this guileful garçon.

La Plancha, 2 Place des Eaux-Vives, 1207 Geneva

+41 (0)22 735 2250; www.laplancha.ch

Buffalo brill

2011-08-10T08:25:00.000-07:00

Many a rural English pub has turned Thai in recent years, forcing those with traditional tastes to traipse to the next county in search of some roast pheasant or Dover sole. I imagine the countryside Swiss are similarly peeved at their village auberges going all Italian, charging the earth for a veal escalope and shunning credit cards.

While this is a familiar tale in many of Geneva's surrounding villages, not so in Collex-Bossy where the Auberge serves up juicy bison steaks fresh from the local herd and pinot noir from just down the road. What's more, the service is efficient and smily (unless you order something other than bison, in which case you are darted a disbelieving glare and treated like a fool for the rest of your meal).

But there is little reason why anyone wouldn't want bison: the meat is lower in fat, calories and cholesterol than beef and is tasty and tender to boot. And the enormous bison head mounted on the wall implores sentimental meat eaters not to let the cuddly cattle die in vain.

I'm not normally a fan of mashed potato because I find it too heavy, but the version served here was so light and wispy that I guiltlessly ate the lot. Having started with only a green salad with a subtle honey dressing, I finished my meal feeling virtuous and thrilled to have discovered the delights of bison meat.

With its warm and welcoming atmosphere, I think Monsieur Gourmand and I will be back for some wintery feasts of lean bison, hearty red wine and oozy chocolate fondant. But that's months away. Suddenly something Italian takes my fancy...

Auberge de Collex-Bossy, 195 route de Collex, 1239 Collex-Bossy
+41 (0)22 774 1515; http://www.aubergecollex-bossy.com

Saucy Sicilian

2011-07-19T08:13:00.000-07:00

Bounding along the lakeside path on his evening run, there was no mistaking the buff physique and leonine locks of Dario, eponymous owner of the eatery Monsieur Gourmand and I had visited the night before.

In a town where most restaurateurs could do with a stint at charm school, Dario's approach is rather refreshing. Yes, he will probably have run out of most things on the menu and you'll have to wait a while for his attention, but any disappointment is short-lived: in a jiffy he'll be calling you by name, plying you with wine and recommending another dish that somehow sounds so much better than what you wanted.

On our first visit, I arrived grumpy but left happy, having eaten a plate of deliciously creamy fresh burrata with rocket leaves and a dollop of honey, followed by swordfish piled high with tomatoes and olives. In truth, the sauce overpowered the natural flavour and texture of the fish, but it seems that heaviness is a feature of Sicilian cooking (they also do a hearty aubergine and parmesan bake and some truffle-laden pasta dishes).

The warm interior décor of burnt orange walls, tiled tables and wrought-iron chairs reflects Sicily's proximity to north Africa, but outside is the place to be, where Dario works the pavement tables, keeping the locals coming back for more of his Italian tastiness and infectious joie de vivre.

Dario's, rue de Montchoisy 4, Eaux-Vives
+41 (0)22 700 7507; www.darios.ch

No Wei

2011-07-07T03:45:00.000-07:00

Alpine Eating is turning into Chinese Chomping with the recent emphasis on Asian food, but Jacky Wei (or Jakcy Wei, according to the awning) merits a mention just for being so bad. I guess I should have known better than to trust a place that spells its own name wrong.

Casting my eye over the menu, I fancied a fresh, healthy Singapore summer roll to start and some sizzling prawns, but Monsieur Gourmand persuaded me to have steamed dumplings and calamari instead.

He got more than he bargained for, having to polish off my meal when I couldn't stomach even one more gag-inducing, greasy bite.

The gelatinous texture of what was supposed to be pork in the dumpling made me quite queasy so I tried to look forward to my main course. It's hard to go wrong with calamari, isn't it?

Apparently not. Instead of the spicy sizzling squid I was expecting, I got deep fried slices on a skewer, padded out with peppers (a particularly unpleasant vegetable in my view, with a sour, nasal aftertaste that overpowers all other flavours).

A lot of restaurants are unexciting or substandard, but it's rare to be unable to finish the food for fear of vomiting. Paying for it just seems perverse.

Jacky Wei, rue Neuve du Molard 19, 1204 Geneva
+41 (0)22 310 2339

Dim sum search

2011-06-22T09:27:00.000-07:00

Rarely does a Sunday night pass without Monsieur Gourmand craving some grilled pork dumplings and crispy shredded mystery meat (beef apparently, but I have my doubts). After London's dazzling array of Chinese restaurants - from local gems to internationally known hotspots - we were at first a little disappointed by Geneva's hideously expensive and decidedly ordinary offerings.

Since those early days, however, we have become accustomed to the lack of pak choi and the usual reliance on "5 épices" sauces and deep-fried "nems". But some are still better than others...

Unfairly ignored for months by Monsieur Gourmand and me because it was recommended by a rather smarmy acquaintance, Zhong Tong has become our most regularly visited Asian eatery (they also do Thai salads and Vietnamese hotpots). Not quite tucked away enough to escape the accordion players that offend our ears on hot summer nights, the rear terrace is charming nonetheless with a quirky picket fence entwined with plastic flowers.

Zhong Tong, Rue du Cendrier 10, Central; +41 (0)22 732 6868

If it wasn’t for the disappointingly small servings, Bamboo Garden would have many more regular visits from me and Monsieur Gourmand. As well as classic Chinese dishes, there is an emphasis on Korean cuisine, served in a warm atmosphere of bamboo-detailed décor.

Bamboo Garden, Passage Linck 4, Eaux-Vives
+41 (0)22 700 40 20; http://www.bamboo-garden.ch

Hung Wang benefits both from its picture postcard view and its steady flow of hotel guests from next door who are either too tired or lazy to look around. But they don’t rest on their laurels: the food is pleasingly MSG free and the décor is elegant and airy.

Hung Wang, Quai du Mont-Blanc 7, Mont Blanc; +41 (0)22 731 7330

Apart from a few flourishes of creativity - exotic birds carved out of carrots, a not unimpressive fish tank and a Mexican wrestling mask motif - Chez Kei is unremarkable. But that hasn't quelled its popularity with the old-fashioned well-to-do Genevois who have been feasting on duck and dumplings here for decades.

Chez Kei, Route de Malagnou 6, Malagnou; +41 (0)22 346 4789

The chunky Chinese man in the filthy-looking kitchen appears to be the owner of Lin Xiang, helped out by his severe-looking wife and greasy-haired daughters (a sure turn-off in any eating establishment). While I can't help focussing on the sticky surroundings, Monsieur Gourmand keeps coming back for the duck feast (pancakes with plum sauce followed by non-descript saucy duck with rice).

Lin Xiang, Rue du Prince 8, Rive; +41 (0)22 311 3330

Poncey apéro

2011-05-20T04:29:00.000-07:00

It is a bit poncey, which normally isn't Monsieur Gourmand's or my cup of tea, but Chez Lucien's concept of "petite faim, bon vin" is just what Geneva's wine-loving after work crowd needs.

With an enviable outlook on the lake and the Jura (if you can crane your neck to see beyond the road and the boat-welding warehouse), the stools by the window are the best seats for settling in and enjoying an evening of wine and nibbles against an attractive backdrop of bare bricks and wall-mounted bottles.

We opted for a crisp Pinot Gris and munched on some grissini before perusing the "planchettes gourmandes" for something to share. We found the perfect partner for our wine in l'épicurien, an all-encompassing plate of verrines, including tapenade, goat's cheese mousse, salmon tartare and some suspiciously creamy pesto (because pesto isn't fattening enough already, Lucien).

Lighter options include smoked salmon assiette or Parma ham "drunk like a Venetian barber" (huh?) while rustic sandwiches and freshly chopped tartares fit the bill for a casual business lunch.

And for flashy folk with a sweet tooth, Chez Lucien has an extravagance not to be missed: a flute of champagne with a deadly dollop of tiramisù, panna cotta, or mousse.

Unsurprisingly, it's always full (of slick-haired, suit-wearing men and well-heeled ladies) so either book a table in advance or be ready to make the manager more amenable, perhaps with the flash of a fancy watch or the glint of a garish handbag.

Chez Lucien, rue de la Scie 2, 1207 Geneva
+41 (0)22 311 4493; http://www.chezlucien.com

Ladies' bite

2011-04-30T12:50:00.000-07:00

Geneva is surrounded by scenic beauty, well placed for European road trips and French-speaking, all of which (in my view) make it more attractive than Switzerland’s other significant city. That said, one night up north is all it takes to realise that Zurich is much more hip.

While Geneva is crawling with stuffy bankers and 6ft hookers, Zurich is populated by sexy sophisticates and relaxed arty types mingling among the cool cafés and vintage shops. Even the taxi drivers are more cosmopolitan, driving like maniacs and shouting obscenities at cyclists.

My California-dwelling friend and I found a fresh and funky design hotel (http://www.greulich.ch), complete with renowned restaurant, rugs for when you get chilly outside, and a cigar room. Nevertheless, we fancied a flavour of the city, so took ourselves off to La Salle where we were thrilled to find high ceilings befitting a former factory and windows criss-crossed with chunky steel beams, all set within a cool complex in an up-and-coming part of town.

After hanging our coats on the self-service rack at the restaurant entrance (how nice not to faff around with cloakroom tokens) we were given a big table and presented with the menu in German, French and English.

We both started with octopus – which really should have been served as a simple carpaccio without the slimy savoury jelly – topped with tasty, tangy tomatoes. Despite the best efforts of the flirty front of house host to make us eat horse (I know it’s tasty but we both happen to like horses), my friend went for a delicious looking entrecôte of lamb while I ordered liver. The texture was perhaps a little too liver-like, bordering on the undercooked, but the deep red, umami-influenced sauce was delightful.

Our Mediterranean maître d’ then tried to foist upon us some fiendishly fattening fare for dessert, but we stayed strong and shared a deliciously smooth crema catalana.

We did, however, take his third piece of advice: we hotfooted it upstairs to the bar where we enjoyed an excellent evening of good conversation and Campari.

La Salle, Schiffbaustrasse 4, CH-8005 Zürich
+41 (0)44 258 7071; http://www.lasalle-restaurant.ch

Pricey prawns

2011-04-19T04:48:00.000-07:00

As anyone who has been in Switzerland for any length of time will know, businesses here don’t exactly fight tooth and nail to obtain, or retain, your custom.

A friend who tried recently to make a booking at Miyako was surprised to be asked over the phone what she would be eating, to which she surmised that she might want sushi and her husband would probably fancy something sizzling from the Teppanyaki table. In that case, she was told, she had better go somewhere else (the presence of non-Teppanyaki eaters is not appreciated around the hallowed hotplate).

Luckily Monsieur Gourmand and I were in a decisive mood when we visited so we knew we wouldn’t fall foul of this petty policy.

Our Teppanyaki chef did a fine job of slicing and dicing, although touristy types might have been disappointed that he didn’t make a grand spectacle of his work, with knives, flames and food flying through the air.

I was surprised to hear Monsieur Gourmand order prawns (he considers them the cockroaches of the sea), but he struck gold with these fresh and juicy crustaceans, which stoked our appetites nicely for the meaty main.

Served with a side of miso soup and not-so-healthy egg fried rice, I savoured every mouthful of my perfectly rare, fat-free fillet steak. It was so tender and tasty that I could have eaten more, but it was refreshing not to feel overly stuffed, as is so often the way with European steaks slathered in buttery sauces.

With superior ingredients and skilled chefs, Miyako managed to redeem itself from my preconceived opinion (albeit with an outrageous bill). Just make sure you eat the same as whoever you’re with, or else one of you might end up stranded at the sushi bar.

Miyako, 11 rue de Chantepoulet, Geneva
+41 (0)22 738 0120; http://www.miyako.ch

Far East of Eden

2011-03-21T05:12:00.000-07:00

Much as I like going to Chamonix, driving there is a bit nervy. It was on this very journey that Monsieur Gourmand and I slammed into a crash barrier before sliding into a stationary car (helpfully stopped in the middle of a snowy road, just around a bend) one December day in 2008. After an hour on edge recalling this scary scenario, it's quite a relief to see the Hotel Eden emerge from the darkness, a shimmering beacon of warmth, bedecked by fairy lights.

While the rooms are functional and pleasantly presented, it is the food for which Hotel Eden is better known. After perusing the menu in front of the fire in the bar with a glass or two of champagne, the conservatory dining room awaits where the walls display the resident photographer's latest Alpine-themed exhibition.

The menu is essentially French - think steak, lamb and sea bass fillets - but many dishes are spiced up with an Asian twist that captures the famed umami essence of oriental cooking. The St Jacques I had on my last visit were livened up by a tasty Teriyaki sauce that complemented the succulent scallops, while Monsieur Gourmand had goat's cheese samosa, the heaviness of the cheese eased by sweet beetroot and a zingy apple salad.

Since my last Eden experience I have resolved to order future steaks seignant rather than bleu as it was a little too rare for my liking on this occasion, but the quality of the meat couldn't be faulted. It's always best to stick to what a place does best and, judging by the number of eastern options, my note-to-self for next time is to go for something with soy, spices or sesame.

A couple of bottles of wine later, the bar beckons where skiers from Finland, Ukraine, and of course the UK, congregate for cognacs and limoncellos late into the night.

Hotel Eden Chamonix, 35 route des Gaudenays,
74400 Les Praz de Chamonix, France
+33 (0)450 531843; http://www.hoteleden-chamonix.com

Talking fop

2011-03-13T08:13:00.000-07:00

The dense fog didn't hold us back from attacking black runs with abandon, but not being able to see is a bit tricky when you're skiing somewhere new. Luckily for Monsieur Gourmand and me, it was clearer lower down, clear enough to spot from the chairlift Les Vieilles Luges tucked away amid the trees.

After negotiating the narrow access path from the piste we didn't have much hope of a table, judging by the amount of skis leaning against the outside wall of the charming wooden shack. But the manager squeezed us in amid the antlers, antique kitchenware and toboggans (to which the restaurant's name refers).

We were unlucky to be seated next to a pompous Englishman who was flashing his i-phone about while waiting for his (very late) date to turn up. When his ladyfriend arrived, he proceeded to drone on about how clever and successful he was (despite losing most of his business recently, which had been a "total nightmare") and she turned down the offer of some wine "because she was skiing".

Since when did that stop anyone?

The menu is written rustic-style on a blackboard and stays true to local tradition with an emphasis on hearty pies and casseroles. My reblochon and leek crumble was not as heavy as I feared and I now have a renewed liking for leeks, a vegetable which I had rather forgotten about. Monsieur Gourmand had two fat and flavoursome sausages, accompanied by a slice of the restaurant's speciality, farçon, a flower-pot shaped, solidified chunk of cheese, potatoes, prunes and lardons.

He was quite stuffed after that, allowing me the lion's share of our tarte aux myrtilles, which was full of fruit and not too pastry-heavy.

We beat a hasty retreat to the still foggy slopes as Ms Sensible on the next table looked increasingly bored by Mr Ego's neverending monologue. Surely getting tipsy and skiing off a cliff after a glass or two of wine would have been a risk worth taking?

Les Vieilles Luges, above Maison Neuve piste, Les Houches, France
+33 (0)684 423700; http://www.lesvieillesluges.com

Holy roast

2011-03-01T10:37:00.000-08:00

The closest I have ever got to meditating was when I tried to cure my phobia of snakes through "deep relaxation". It didn't work, partly because of the noisy London traffic outside and partly because of my own scepticism.

But the Buddhist monks of the Shedrub Choekhor Ling centre seem to have the right idea: a tranquil temple atop the Salève with amazing views over Geneva, the Jura and Lac Léman.

Recently discovered by Monsieur Gourmand and me while on a Saturday spin around the winding roads, the temple shares a building with Restaurant Table d'Orientation where we stopped for a bite to eat. We didn't expect much (the name is hopelessly unsnappy and most of the clientele seemed to be ramblers) but we were in for a nice surprise.

Floor-to-ceiling windows make the most of the dizzying views, while the dark wood floors and tables would create a warm atmosphere in even the wildest weather. And the menu is limited to just a few salads and meat dishes, a sure sign that the chef takes pride in his culinary creations and uses fresh ingredients.

After some warm and crusty, freshly baked bread (with olive oil, salt AND butter) my salade "fitness" arrived: an abundant pile of green leaves, asparagus, pumpkin seeds, cherry tomatoes and dreamy soft-poached eggs, surrounded by six standing conical carrots.

But Monsieur Gourmand's meal would take some beating. Not usually a great poultry lover, he raved about the crispy roasted chicken breasts with every tender mouthful, and savoured the bed of bolet mushrooms and hearty home-made pasta sheets that made up this pleasing plat du jour. I thought I would be doing him a favour by offering to relieve him of his Brussels sprouts but they were so firm and flavoursome that he only allowed me one meagre bite.

Maybe the monks don't have it so good after all; the aromas that waft around this building must drive them wild with temptation (I think carnivorous indulgences are frowned upon in Buddhism). That wouldn't preclude them from trying the tarte aux pommes though, which looked heavenly.

7660 Route des Trois Lacs, 74560 Monnetier-Mornex, Mont Salève
+33 (0)450 350545

http://www.shedrubchoekhorling.blogspot.com/

Trusty bistrot

2011-02-18T04:01:00.000-08:00

It's the second time I've been to L'Esquisse and it's the second time I can't think of anything to write about it. Not because it was bad, quite the opposite in fact. It's very good. Not rapture-rousingly, astoundingly good, but a reliable neighbourhood bistrot serving tasty French cuisine against a backdrop of funky artwork.

Again we were seated in the lower half of the restaurant by the drafty door (note to self: request a table at the other end next time) before a fast-talking Frenchman guided us through the blackboard of wines. Of course he subtly suggested some of the pricier vintages, but we found the restaurant's own label house red was more than a match for our main course.

This second visit failed to trump the first when I had a juicy veal burger (they also do beef, chicken and tuna), but it did involve another hunk of tender meat: a chunky côte de boeuf served on a wooden slab with a sharp knife protruding from within. Rare and tasty, there was little need for the sauce on the side, while chips might have been preferable to the unmemorable potatoes. I can't quite remember if they were dauphinoise. If so, I've had better.

In anticipation of the substantial main course, I had chosen a dainty salade verte to start, which was excellent: firm and fresh with an addictively aromatic walnut dressing. Monsieur Gourmand wasn't so complimentary about his (inexplicably orange) courgette soup which was, unsurprisingly, rather bland.

As we walked home, satisfied yet unexcited by our dinner, I resolved to shake things up a bit next time. Maybe I'll try some fish.

7 rue du Lac, 1207 Geneva
+41 (0)22 786 5044; lesquisse.com

No shrinking Violette

2011-02-08T11:10:00.000-08:00

While Verbier is overrun with braying Brits, by contrast Crans-Montana offers Euroglam galore. Skiers here won't be seen in anything less snazzy than Spyder or less pricey than Peak Performance, while down in town the non-skiing residents stalk the streets in Moon Boots and Moncler.

If, like me, you prefer your ski resorts a little more down to Earth, it's tempting to shun such glitziness. But that means missing out on one of the sunniest, most extraordinarily scenic spots for lunch in the entire Swiss Alps.

In the depths of winter, the cold might force people inside to enjoy a warm, toasty meal in Restaurant Les Violettes' tasteful interior, but with Crans-Montana's enviable location on Switzerland's sunniest plateau, the terrace is the place to soak up some rays and take in the spectacular view.

While the Weisshorn's majestic peak is certainly diverting, I couldn't help noticing the unusually high proportion of beautiful people that frequent this mountain mecca: waiters wearing Carrera shades and perfect pouts flit from table to table, serving swanky skiers with bottles of Champagne and suitably sophisticated food (no vin chaud and panini here, I fear).

Monsieur Gourmand had some deliciously rare and tender roast beef, complete with flavoursome gravy and firm vegetables, while I went for the Swiss staple of viande séchée with all-important cornichons, rye bread and butter. Washed down with some red wine, we left feeling energised for an afternoon on the perilous-sounding Plaine Morte glacier.

Restaurant Les Violettes, next to Violettes télécabine
crans-montana.ch

Flawed design

2011-01-31T13:09:00.000-08:00

Typically Italian, aesthetics are important at Olio Design. The stone arches are reminiscent of a Roman palazzo, exquisite tableware abounds and of course the food is a feast for the eyes: looking at my anchovy salad was like leaning over a river bank and peering into the fast flowing water, a shoal of silvery fish swimming amid a colourful mesh of green lettuce and reddish radishes.

Alas, it looked much better than it tasted - the anchovies were raw.

Now, I'm quite partial to a bit of ceviche or sushi, but without the strong flavour of lemon or wasabi I couldn't overpower the slimy, slippery texture which made me think of eels, and eels give me the creeps. Thank goodness for the Gavi with which I washed it down.

Why did I force myself to eat something I didn't like, you may ask. Well, partly because it cost an outrageous 30CHF which I didn't want to waste, and partly because I felt bad about offending the chef who had created the dish especially (I had chosen a hot anchovy starter with burrata but he thought I might like something lighter). Maybe the burrata had gone off.

Whereas Monsieur Gourmand had enjoyed a peculiar but pleasing appetiser of asparagus soup and squid, it was soon his turn to taste disappointment with a plate of unexciting orecchiette with fresh mushrooms. My deliciously al dente linguine with chunky frutti di mare, however, were the perfect antidote to my hunger and I wolfed them down with abandon.

My meal continued on a yummy note - a ball of pannacotta with firm, fresh raspberries and strawberries. Limoncello on the house by way of apology for meddling with my meal was a welcome sweetener, but didn't change the fact that Olio Design is not outstanding enough to justify the high prices.

Olio Design, 59 rue du Rhone, 1204 Geneva
+41 (0)22 310 1555; oliodesignrestaurant.com

Misplaced popularity?

2011-01-25T04:39:00.000-08:00

With the exception of the desserts, I'm slightly baffled by the popularity of Café du Soleil. I must admit, however, that this is probably my own fault for not eating what it is famous for: fondue. Like Indian food, I just can't get used to the idea of eating it for lunch - two large meals a day would turn me into Jabba the Hutt and no, I don't want to sacrifice my indulgent dinners with Monsieur Gourmand.

My colleagues seemed very satisfied as they devoured their enormous pot of bubbling cheese. I, on the other hand, was presented with three slices of fat. My fault again for not understanding French well enough (I got the bit about veal, potatoes and spinach but missed the bit about 'gras').

But all was not lost. Still feeling peckish (having only eaten two or three tiny morsels of meat amid the fat), I guiltlessly ordered a deliciously light Flan Catalan, which I finished in a flash, particularly enjoying the slightly firmer texture on top.

During our lunch, Café du Soleil filled up with men in suits, young families and lunching ladies, enjoying the lively atmosphere and the seemingly fantastic fondue. But I wouldn't know about that. The steaks looked tasty too...

I've obviously missed out on something special (it has survived for 400 years after all) so I'll have to come back, perhaps in the summer when I can soak up the soleil on the terrace.

Place du Petit-Saconnex 6, 1209 Geneva
+41 (0)22 733 3417; cafedusoleil.ch

Sizzling feast

2011-01-14T04:45:00.000-08:00

On a cold and rainy night, it was quite a relief to enter the warm woody surroundings of the Taverne du Valais with its traditional table cloths and the smoky smell of sizzling meat (even with extractors over each table, the charbonnade experience will leave you smelling like a lumberjack).

Of course, such an irresistible aroma has the side effect of intensifying hunger; poor Monsieur Gourmand was so ravenous that he resorted to sampling the collection of condiments that sat temptingly on the table.

I tried to take his mind off his growling stomach by reading from the menu the enchanting tale of the restaurant's beginnings: once upon a time (1967, in fact) Frau Schmidt ventured down from the Valais to give the Genevois a taste of her mountain fondue. Alas, demand dried up when spring came around so she fed them traditional barbecued mountain meat instead. And I, for one, am glad that she did.

After a tasty French-style salad and some crusty brown bread, a platter of tender, lean beef arrived (we opted for beef only but bird-heavy mixes of chicken, turkey and duck are also available). After only a minute on the charbonnade the thinly sliced morsels are cooked, complete with criss cross grill pattern, ready to be savoured alone or with a dollop of Dijon, a bit of bearnaise or even chilli (for an Asian twist).

Far from being a bad thing, the distance from the city centre allows for an unpretentious atmosphere and down-to-earth service, making this an ideal destination for feasting with friends.

La Taverne du Valais, 4 chemin des Sellières,
1219 Aïre - Le Lignon, Geneva
+41 (0)22 796 2323; taverneduvalais.ch

Battle of the boeuf

2011-01-09T07:21:00.000-08:00

I was recently having one of those conversations about hypothetical choices you would never have to face, like would you rather be submerged in a pool of wee or be forced to eat raw eyeball of sheep? Or my all-time favourite: would you rather lose a leg or be confined to Filton Avenue for the rest of your life, with no chance of ever leaving? Admittedly, the most recent one was a little less ludicrous: if you could only eat one kind of meat for the rest of your life, what would it be?

All have their merits but for most people it would be a difficult dilemma of pork versus beef. Pork has its many fiendish forms - think crackling, sausages and bacon - but, for me, it would have to be beef. I'm not sure I could reconcile myself with the idea of never again enjoying a thick slab of sirloin, a tender fillet or even a juicy burger.

Strangely enough, I haven't cooked a single steak since moving to Geneva. Not because I'm avoiding red meat (as if) but because there are so many good steak restaurants to choose from, including a few that Monsieur Gourmand and I return to again and again.

Aside from nasty exchanges with the snooty clientele - a horrible hag once suggested to us that we *adopt French sneer* "go back to England where you came from" when we dared to ask if a heavily pregnant friend who had just nipped in to say hello could perhaps perch on the empty seat beside her - you can't go wrong at Le Relais de l’Entrecôte. Assuming you like steak, because that's all they've got.

A green salad with tasty French dressing and walnuts readies the palate before the steak is served, smothered in their famous secret sauce: a tangy green, garlicky concoction that induces daily cravings when I walk by. The chips are also amazing, so it's definitely worth the wait (they don't take reservations so go before 19.30 or after 21.30 to avoid the queue).

Le Relais de l’Entrecôte, 49 rue du Rhône, 1204 Geneva
+41 (0)22 310 6004; relaisentrecote.fr

If you can’t be bothered to wait there’s always Carnivor around the corner. It doesn’t have Entrecôte’s atmosphere (or sauce) but it’s an excellent alternative for meat eaters with substantial steaks and an inviting alternative: rôtisserie coquelet. Be sure to sit in the conservatory area – you can watch the snow falling in winter and it’s opened up in the summer.

Carnivor, 11 rue Neuve du Molard, 1204 Geneva
+41 (0)22 310 0928; carnivor.ch

My stepfather claims to have “discovered” Les Armures when he and my mother were visiting and I hadn’t booked anywhere to eat. Wary of its Old Town tourist-trap location, I didn’t have much hope for the meal ahead, but if it was good enough for Bill Clinton (a picture of the ex-President eating in this very restaurant is prominently displayed at the entrance) surely it would be good enough for me.

The overwhelming whiff of cheese seems to suggest that Les Armures does fondue first and foremost, but this belies the restaurant’s mastery of meat; the steak I ate on our last visit was so fresh and rare that it actually smelled of cow (in a good way).

Les Armures, 1 rue Puits-St-Pierre, 1204 Geneva
+41 (0)22 310 3442; hotel-les-armures.ch

Cheesy feast

2010-12-12T10:07:00.000-08:00

Cruising along Miami's Biscayne Boulevard with the top down, 80s power ballads screeching from the stereo, Monsieur Gourmand and I passed the Melting Pot, part of a US chain of fondue restaurants. Needless to say, we didn't stop (the weather was a bit on the warm side for bubbling hot cheese, and fiendish food is rather less appealing when you have to wear a bikini the next day. Oh, and we live in Switzerland where fondue restaurants are two a penny.)

A long-established fondue favourite of ours is Café Bon Vin. Dating back to 1900, the original owners have long since died and been replaced by Portuguese proprietors, but you wouldn't know it; the Swiss spirit is very much alive in the vintage alpine posters on the walls, a black lollipop sign from the dreaded Mur Suisse mogul field, creaky wood banquettes and a strong stench of cheese.

I'm sure they have other things on the menu but Monsieur Gourmand and I never look beyond the viandes sechées, served on a wooden platter with pickled onions and cornichons (one of the first French words I learned thanks to the unfortunately named Mr and Mrs Gherkin in my primary school text book) followed by fondue moitié-moitié.

A little pepper is all that’s needed to perk up the pot of lava-like deliciousness before immersing the bite-sized chunks of crusty bread. The first feelings of fullness come about two thirds of the way through, but there is no stopping the addictive cheese frenzy – come to think of it, I'm sure I’ve never seen an unfinished fondue.

Not normally one for desserts, Monsieur Gourmand has a particular liking for Café Bon Vin’s raspberries, of course accompanied by a pot of Gruyère cream (as if we hadn’t already overdosed on dairy). With our Miami jaunt a distant memory and no holidays on the horizon, at least my bikini body can stay under wraps for a few months yet.

Café Bon-Vin, 17 rue Versonnex, 1207 Geneva

+41 (0)22 736 8790

Happy Days (of the living dead)

2010-11-09T12:35:00.000-08:00

A grey and grim Sunday morning in Versoix. Nobody is around, other than the local fire service, called to the scene to clear up the shattered glass of a vandalised bus stop. Around the corner come the possible perpetrators of this night-time naughtiness, some pasty pre-teens roaming zombie-like around the estate, sipping panaché and sporting menacing masks and creepy costumes. It's all a bit Shaun of the Dead.

But nestled amid this gloomy Halloween scene is an unexpected ray of light. Happy Days Coffee is an American-style diner, where the walls are covered in bumper stickers, the front end of a Cadillac pokes out from the wall and customers sit on sparkly blue banquettes. Children, meanwhile, are kept busy with a selection of puzzles and crayons, appropriately presented in a Dr Pepper can.

Monsieur Gourmand and I both went for a classic American breakfast of fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon, served with all-important maple syrup and that white butter they like in the States. Even the coffee is served the American way, although the waitresses aren't quite as reliant on tips as their Denny's counterparts, so don't expect constant refills.

In the event of a zombie invasion, this wouldn't be a bad place to be stranded, although on this occasion I would have been far too stuffed to fight off an army of the undead.

Happy Days Coffee, Chemin du Pont-Céard 12, 1290 Versoix
+41 (0)22 779 0000

Big Apple influence

2010-11-05T12:20:00.000-07:00

If Jay-Z is to be believed, a trip to New York will make me feel brand new, so inspired I will be by the big lights. Empire State of Mind, the rapper's much-played ode to his hometown, typifies the Big Apple adoration that has been on the rise in recent years. From SJP stalking the sidewalks in her Manolos, to Machiavellian Manhattan teens plotting against their Gossip Girl cohorts, New York is the undisputed capital of cool.

Luckily I don’t need to jet across the Atlantic for a big city-style pizza, now that Luigia has opened up right here in little old Geneva. ‘Ooh, it’s all lofty and trendy, you really feel like you’re in New York’, people had told me before my recent visit. I only hoped the pizzas wouldn't be deep pan and stuffed full of rubbery cheese and thick pepperoni sausage.

Of course, my fears were unfounded; pizzas in Geneva tend to be very good and Luigia was no different.

At 8pm on a Saturday evening, we expected to wait a while (they don’t take bookings) before being forced to squeeze ourselves around a tiny table to be served by snooty staff. Instead, we found ourselves in a brightly-lit warehouse with no shortage of tables, many of them occupied by families.

In true American style, the service was lightning quick... quick enough to stifle both the social element of dining out and the anticipation of eating. We had barely tasted the wine when the food arrived, leaving us little time to appreciate the spectacle of the pizzaioli plying their trade by the cavernous woodfire oven, illuminated by some glitzy showbiz-style lights.

Like the snappy service, the presentation was a bit too efficient for my liking. Personally, I like my pizza a little rough around the edges like the Neapolitan street food it's supposed to be, rather than a model of rounded perfection. That said, the crusty, blackened base was perfect in flavour and texture, topped with deliciously fresh ingredients, and I devoured the whole thing in a matter of minutes, leaving little room for dessert.

While Luigia's slick operation is a novelty compared to some of Geneva's lazy and outdated eateries, it was so rushed that I can't remember the finer details of the wine, conversation or indeed the pizza (although I do recall that the chilli oil was pointedly un-piquante).

This isn't the place for a long, leisurely meal, but if it's fresh flavours and big city surroundings you're after, prepare for life in the fast lane.

Luigia, rue Adrien Lachenal 24a, 1207 Geneva
+41 (0)22 840 1515; luigia.ch

Food falling short

2010-10-10T06:21:00.000-07:00

Making the most of an unseasonably warm evening, Monsieur Gourmand, a couple of friends and I strolled along rue du Rhône towards a cluster of bars and restaurants. We planned to enjoy dinner al fresco on the cobbled quayside, watching the lit-up logos of luxury brands reflecting off the water.

One place was prohibitively pricey, another too formal, and one – in an attempt to look Ibiza-like – had thrown dirty-looking towels all over their sofas. So we settled for the mellow lighting and faux-wicker furniture of Enoteca.

Having chosen a Chilean wine, we ordered mixed antipasti of artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes and a couple of tapenades. Moreish they may have been, but eating them proved a challenge as we only had one knife between us and the meagre bread basket contained just four sad-looking slices of stale baguette. Crusty, rustic loaves with olives or walnuts may have better suited the Mediterranean mood.

The bread wasn’t the only thing that seemed out of place; the middle-aged, oriental waitress was a sight to behold in a buckled leather jacket, floaty skirt and electric blue eye shadow, shuffling around in the kind of outdoorsy sandals you go rafting in and cackling maniacally when we asked for anything.

By the time our bread supply had been replenished, I had already started my main course. The chicken brochette seemed a bit genetically modified and nugget-like in texture, while the supposed massala sauce tasted too generic. Our friend’s chicken wings weren’t much better, but Monsieur Gourmand’s burger proved to be the highlight of an otherwise mediocre meal: a delicious and juicy feast of flavoursome beef, melted cheese, egg and bacon, served with chunky chips.

Notwithstanding this last tasty triumph, Enoteca should probably just stick to being a wine bar.

Enoteca, 19 rue du Rhône, 1204 Geneva

+41 (0)22 789 0189; winebargeneva.com

Tasty but hasty

2010-09-18T09:45:00.000-07:00

A friend from England came to stay last weekend while Monsieur Gourmand was away on business. Transforming myself into a tour guide, I devised an all-encompassing itinerary for us, relishing the prospect of using Geneva's free bike rental scheme. But nothing is ever simple in Switzerland...

My UK driving licence wasn’t official enough as a form of ID so I had to go back to the apartment for my passport. Then there weren’t any bikes available at the Villereuse office so we went to Place du Molard, only to find an empty prefab. The staff there told us there were two bikes at Bains de Pâquis, so across the water we went, arriving two seconds after a trout-pouted glamour puss, who promptly nabbed one of the last two bikes.

Luckily we didn’t have to wait long for a replacement and we spent the afternoon happily whizzing around town, from the botanical gardens and the UN to Carouge and the Jet d’eau.

In the absence of Monsieur Gourmand, I seized the opportunity to enjoy a Lebanese feast in the evening. But, having become engrossed – at my friend’s insistence – in a certain TV talent show, we didn’t sit down to eat at Le Diwane until 10pm. As with the pernickety passport incident earlier in the day, we were about to be reminded that spontaneity in Switzerland is a contradiction in terms.

The waiter implored us to try a glass each of an open wine rather than the bottle of Lebanese white that we requested, presumably because he was worried we might take too long to drink it. The fact that the bottle would cost considerably more was by-the-by. Needless to say, his efforts were in vain and our hard-won bottle arrived with some very appetising mezze.

All too accustomed to shop-bought vine leaves, I had forgotten how soft and moist they can be until I tried these ones, while the dreamy, creamy houmous was offset by the healthy tasting and tangy tabbouleh.

Our main course – a mixed grill of marinated chicken and lamb – should have been a delight, but I couldn’t enjoy it. Feeling rather rushed and made to feel guilty for daring to eat so late – let’s not forget this was Saturday night in the liveliest area of a European city – I wolfed down the mezze in a flash and barely chewed the scrumptious chunks of meat.

At 11 o’clock on the dot, the restaurant lights were turned off, music muted and the tables and chairs quickly chained up. Taking the hint, we glugged down the last of our wine and hit the surrounding streets for a walk on Geneva’s wild side. Unfortunately the punters of Pâquis seemed to have us confused with the other kind of streetwalker, so we soon beat a hasty houmous-fuelled retreat towards home.

Le Diwane, rue de Zurich 6, 1201 Geneva
+41 (0)22 732 73 91

Season's eatings

2010-08-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

As I bask lizard-like on a lakeside rock, I realise that this may well be one of this year’s final opportunities to soak up the sun.

Geneva really is quite fabulous in the summer time, with seemingly ceaseless sunshine and a large body of fresh water in which to cool off. (I won’t dwell on the notable annoyances of itchy insects and spotty youths, the male contingent of which seems to have adopted this summer’s inexplicable trend for wearing boxer shorts underneath their swimming shorts).

Just as fondue is best suited to cosy alpine settings in the depths of winter, some of this region’s restaurants simply have to be sampled in the summer months. Thank goodness, then, that Monsieur Gourmand and I found the time to dine at Brasserie Parc des Eaux-Vives this week.

With its manicured plants and immaculately mown lawn – beyond which lies a lovely lake view – the setting couldn’t have been more perfect, until the sun went down and a chilly breeze began to waft through the window. We didn’t ask to close it though as the resulting reflection on the glass would have doubled the dazzling effect of the bare light bulbs protruding from an ill-fitting lampshade overhead.

Fortunately Monsieur Gourmand chose a suitably hearty meal to warm him from the inside, starting with casareccia pasta with chicken chunks and fresh rocket leaves. I went for a more summery starter of King Crab, the rich meat pleasantly offset by a light and fluffy cucumber gazpacho, ‘icy mint’ and tangy red berries.

Monsieur Gourmand’s steak was superb; tender and rare, served with perfectly rectangular chunky chips and a light béarnaise. By contrast, my lamb brochettes were a bit disappointing - I'm sure the menu mentioned something North African. That’s not to say it wasn’t tasty, however, and I was pleased to find the lamb perfectly pink in the middle.

Before braving the nippy night-time temperatures on the walk home, we indulged in a chocolatey concoction with whipped walnut, delicate wafer and coconut ice cream. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that this year’s bikini days are numbered.

Brasserie Parc des Eaux-Vives, Quai Gustave Ador 82, 1207 Geneva
+41 (0)22 849 7575; www.parcdeseauxvives.ch

Plane tasty

2010-07-27T04:03:00.000-07:00

The older I get, the more mortal I feel; I have even started feeling nervous when flying. Milling around Heathrow the other evening, I was relieved not to be boarding the flight to Auckland – which doesn’t bode well when Monsieur Gourmand and I have our hearts set on honeymooning in Bora Bora.

Such aviation anxiety is quite unexpected for someone who has always enjoyed taking to the air, whether by jumbo or gyrocopter (okay, the second one isn’t entirely true but I have been known to jump out of small planes and soar through the skies in a glider).

Perhaps my passion for planes is why I like Le Thermomètre, an unpretentious eatery in the centre of Geneva, whose decked outdoor area looks onto the window of a model shop selling everything from remote control Cessnas and Spitfires to scale model 747s and A380s. And if planes don’t float your boat, there are plenty of yachts, cars and trains to distract you from the discomfort of the plasticky chairs while you wait to be served.

Talking of trains, the restaurant’s long, narrow interior reminds me of a railway restaurant carriage, only without the Swiss mountain scenery and with the addition of over-attentive staff. Unless it’s pouring with rain or icy cold, I would stay outside.

We started by sharing some smooth and flavoursome foie gras, served with dainty toasts and a soupçon of sweet sauce on the side. This was just enough decadence to awaken my appetite for what was to follow – a deliciously rare and tender steak.

Monsieur Gourmand strayed from the menu’s mainstays of steak and perches du lac and instead went for thin slices of beef with a herby, garlicky sauce. Despite the thinness of the slices, the meat remained rare, while the sensational sauce was tangy but not overpowering. Both dishes came with Le Thermomètre’s must-have matchstick frites, and of course we quaffed a carafe of local red wine.

I can’t think of anywhere better for a bit of unpretentious mid-week eating with some people watching and plane spotting thrown in. Just be sure to sit outside.

Le Thermomètre, 22 rue Neuve du Molard, 1204 Genève
+41 (0)22 310 2535

Sweet surrender

2010-07-07T08:32:00.000-07:00

While I disapprove of stingy establishments that charge for petits fours, the fabulous Rasoi goes to the other extreme. After an otherwise exquisite and surprisingly light meal, I completely overdosed on dessert: an entire mango kulfi – the best I’ve ever tasted – pistachio crème brûlée and melon. (These were served as one dish, in case anyone is thinking I’m a complete glutton.)

As a result, I felt utterly stuffed and very grateful for the walk home.

We happened to visit during a promotional evening for a local kaftan and sarong seller, but it would take more than a succession of slinky models in floaty frocks to distract me – if not Monsieur Gourmand – from the show stopping degustation menu.

A duo of home-made chutneys and dainty poppadoms were enjoyed with an apéritif before some subtly spicy and herby naan bread arrived. A chilled lentil and tomato soup ensued, before two volaille kebabs – one full flavoured and tangy, the other much milder – were served with a salad of modish micro leaves.

As I savoured the red, orange and green cuisine, the main course of Masala cod and saffron mash brought on the first feelings of fullness. It was delicious nonetheless, the moist, meaty flakes complemented by fresh and firm peas and asparagus.

On this occasion I was weak-willed when faced with delicious-looking creamy kulfi, and powerless to resist the heavenly convergence of pistachio and crème brûlée, (two of my favourite things). If I can stomach the prohibitive prices for a future visit, I vow to allow the sensational savoury flavours to linger longer.

Rasoi, Mandarin Oriental Hotel, Quai Turrettini, 1201 Genève
+41 (0)22 909 0006 www.rasoi.ch

Pizza penalty shootout

2010-06-23T06:09:00.000-07:00

Judging by their less-than-stellar performance so far, Italy won’t be World Cup holders for much longer. But even if they no longer rule the fickle world of football, Italians can at least take consolation in being the nation that brought us seductive language, timeless fashion and pizza.

I love pizza so much that it would be my final meal on death row. But knowing my luck, the prison warden would dash to Domino’s and present me with a cheesy lump of pre-prepared dough scattered with offensive tasting peppers. Would they let me have another one from a preferable purveyor of pizza, I wonder, or would my final hours be wiled away in a seething strop?

Being a bastion of human rights, of course there is nothing as barbaric as the death penalty in Geneva. But there are a good many pizzerias.

To mark Italy’s last days as world champions, here is the Alpine Eating (admittedly Eaux-Vives centric and rather limited) pizza league.

Failed to qualify

Quirinale – crammed full of preppy playboys quaffing Champagne, Quirinale has no place in this competition simply because nobody should have to pay 30 francs for a pizza. Ever. Even if it does have truffles on it.

Rue de la Rôtisserie 6; 022 748 4848; www.quirinale.ch

First round failure

Molino – I was horrified to hear a friend proclaim Molino the best pizza in Geneva. To be fair, this chain restaurant does pizza better than it does anything else – gristly vitello tonnato, dried out salmon, puny prawns – but tinned ingredients and the soggy consistency are a let down.

Place du Molard 7; 022 310 9988; www.molino.ch

Game of two halves

Chez Marino – what Chez Marino lacks in culinary finesse, it more than makes up for in atmosphere. Be sure to sit at one of the tables on the right when you come in; this is where you can watch the pizzaiolo at work while waiters whizz to and fro. Marino himself sometimes takes to the floor for a song or two, which may not be to everyone’s taste...

Rue Muzy 22, Eaux-Vives; 022 736 4516; www.chez-marino.ch

Runner-up

Cinecittà – stuffed with cinema memorabilia from the glamorous golden era of Sofia Loren and Roberto Rossellini, families, young couples and groups alike frequent this Eaux-Vives eaterie. Despite the ravishing range of pizzas on offer, Monsieur Gourmand swears by the Margherita.

Rue de Montchoisy 17, Eaux-Vives; 022 736 4959; www.pizzeria-cinecitta.ch

Champion

Da Paolo – the fact that it’s always full to bursting says a lot. As well as the standard selection of pizzas, this hidden-away haunt offers a number of sensational specials. And if pizza’s not your preference, this authentic Italian offers meat, fish and pasta aplenty.

Rue du Lac 3, Eaux-Vives; 022 736 3049; www.dapaolo.ch

Chocolate salvation

2010-06-02T07:06:00.000-07:00

Everything in my life was hunky dory until recently, when an incompetent and irresponsible person – who shall remain nameless – ruined everything.

As a so-called professional, he could have been expected to do his job properly. Surely if you’re good at one thing in life, it should be your job. It is, after all, what you spend most of your waking hours doing, and it is how you describe yourself when meeting people for the first time.

The same goes for restaurants, particularly if they claim to serve a ‘speciality’; customers expect it to be good.

I had fancied a bite at Bistrot du Boucher in Eaux-Vives for quite a while; not only is it always reassuringly full, but the bovine motif on the window and the butcher reference in the name suggest a superior steak.

The meaty theme continues inside where waiters dash from table to table in fetching cow-print ties, while a quick peer into the men’s loos reveals a fascinating photo of a bull’s testicles. (No udders in the ladies’ though, I’m afraid.)

After such a promising prelude, the tough, tasteless entrecôte came as a bit of a shock. Normally a steak needs nothing more than a little moutarde, but this one really required something more to lift the lacklustre flavour – what a shame the three bland sauces all tasted the same...

It was only when the devilish display of desserts was wheeled to our table that we realised Bistrot du Boucher’s true forte. Having shunned both the tasty-looking tarte tatin and pear pastry, Monsieur Gourmand opted for a chunk of chocolatey decadence with an intense depth of flavour and a smooth, buttery consistency. I cursed the calories in each fiendish forkful but couldn’t resist devouring more and more.

Nevertheless, despite this mouthwateringly memorable finale – not to mention unusually efficient service and apéritifs on the house – the fact remains that a delicious dessert does not a good steak make.

Bistrot du Boucher, 15 Avenue Pictet de Rochemont, 1205 Genève

022 736 5636

Chilly curry

2010-05-19T08:29:00.000-07:00

It seemed a shame to sit inside Thaï on the first warm evening of the year but, like many of her compatriots, our American friend preferred shivering in icy air conditioning to soaking up the spring vibe al fresco.

Having subjected us all to sub-zero temperatures, she then picked and nibbled at morsels of cucumber and carrot while the rest of us tucked into the tasty Thai food. If she allowed herself to consume a single carb or gram of fat, she might have liked the Thai tacos stuffed with shrimps, chicken and soybean sprouts, which Monsieur Gourmand found to be full of taste and texture.

The other two of us went for veritable Thai classics to start: a tasty and tangy spicy papaya salad with lashings of lime and peanuts, and chicken satay. Alas, the latter was ruined by an errant vinegar bottle lid, but the staff brought another satay without fuss, much to the delight of our hungry friend.

Served on a banana leaf, my sizeable steamed sea bass fillets were both meaty and zingy, but I thought Monsieur Gourmand’s grilled beef in black pepper sauce rather bland.

Little did we know that Thaï’s trump card is their curry: the spicy Panang sauce was subtle enough not to overpower the giant, juicy prawns, while the classic Thai green curry was a triumph of creamy coconut. And if, like me, you find steamed white rice the dullest dish imaginable, they offer organic brown jasmine rice as an enticing alternative.

This isn’t the place to come for exciting atmosphere – indeed retired tennis players can be found here escaping the admiring crowds – but the food is reliable and it offers chilly respite on hot summer nights.

Thaï, 3 rue Neuve du Molard, 1204 Genève; +41 (0)22 310 1254
www.thai-geneve.com

A winter's snail

2010-04-29T10:23:00.000-07:00

Meandering through the cobbled streets of Megève on a balmy spring evening, I rather fancied a crispy pizza al fresco with some chilled white wine. But that was before the sun sank behind the mountains leaving a distinct alpine chill in the air – perfect for what would perhaps be my last hearty mountain meal this winter.

Nestled beside a bell tower in the corner of the town’s main square, Le Prieuré provided friendly, family-run respite from the cold outside, complete with rustic wooden tables, warm lighting and a grand fireplace. These cosy surroundings failed to banish my spring-like mood, however, so I ordered a goat’s cheese salad as my starter, minus the bacon, which I find tends to make a light bite into something rather more substantial.

Monsieur Gourmand was less restrained, opting for escargots in a fiendishly rich Roquefort and walnut velouté. This surprising presentation made a refreshing change from the usual pitted platter of snails that look all too much like, well, snails, and bring to mind memories of cracked shells and slime on the sole of my shoe.

Undefeated by his full-flavoured starter, Monsieur Gourmand followed it with confit de canard which, though undoubtedly delicious, wasn’t a patch on my fillet steak. Monsieur Gourmand even proclaimed it the best steak he had ever tasted. I wouldn’t go that far – one particular slab of meat in Argentina springs to mind – but it was certainly the most memorable I’ve had in a long while and without doubt the best I’ve reviewed on this blog. The meat was melt-in-the-mouth tender, rare in the middle yet slightly charred on the outside.

Always aware of my calorie consumption, I fought the temptation to devour the entire rustic ramekin of gratin dauphinois that accompanied both main courses, but this was no mean feat.

Having craftily chosen a menu, Monsieur Gourmand was entitled not only to cheese but also to dessert. Feeling duty bound to at least sample something from the tempting patisserie tray, we shared a light and fluffy lemon tart that was zingy enough to clear the palate and sharpen the senses for our night-time drive back to Geneva.

Le Prieuré, 116 Place de l’Eglise, 74120 Megève, France
+33 (0)450 21 01 79 ; www.leprieure-megeve.com

Sweet excess

2010-04-07T07:35:00.000-07:00

A lunchtime favourite of besuited bankers, by night Le Grand Quai is a surprisingly subdued affair. Of the 20 or so tables, only about five were occupied when we visited on a weekday evening, either by cosy couples dining out for a special occasion or by the Métropole’s guests.

Quiet it may be, but this makes for better service and a hushed environment for savouring the superior food.

Never one to resist the lure of a duck’s liver, Monsieur Gourmand had foie gras to start with Liguria olives and peanuts, while my rare-cooked fillet and leg of young Racan pigeon was delicate and tender indeed, perked up by the stronger flavours of horseradish, wasabi peas and trendy beetroot. I could have easily chosen the monkfish with mango and pecan but, in anticipation of a seafood main course, decided to avoid an all-out fish fest.

Unfamiliar with wild Pandora – I now know it to be a type of sea bream – it was the fiendish accompaniments of cuttlefish ink, mussels, seaweed crust and baby squid that seduced me, hearty flavours that were more than a match for our Pinot noir. Meanwhile, Monsieur Gourmand seemed to enjoy his Burgundy guinea fowl, which beat off stiff competition from other free-range fare including milk-fed Pyrenees lamb and home-grown veal from Swiss mountain pastures.

For some reason – it certainly wasn’t hunger – we then ordered two outrageously excessive desserts before sampling the petits fours, which arrived without us even having ordered coffee (take note, Hotel Olden).

As I stood up to leave I rather regretted wearing such an eye-catching belt, but was grateful that there was only a handful of customers to witness my newly non-existent waist.

Le Grand Quai, Swissôtel Métropole, Quai Général-Guisan 34, 1204 Genève
+41 (0)22 318 3463; www.grandquai.ch

Upmarket auberge

2010-03-12T01:52:00.000-08:00

Judging by the flashy clientele and the valet parking for skis, Auberge du Christomet is a bit more posh than your average pit stop on the piste; I can just picture the terrace in spring, thronging with Spyder-clad skiers braying over boozy lunches.

On the cold and snowy February day when we visited, however, everyone was taking refuge indoors where the welcoming whiff of melted cheese is complemented by chunky wood tables, clumps of dried flowers and a couple of curled-up cats in a basket.

Sipping a champagne aperitif and nibbling an amuse bouche of tuna-tinged mayonnaise with crunchy bread, it wasn’t long before the blood began to return to my toes. And I felt even warmer at the prospect of the tasty-sounding Savoyard specialities on the menu.

Of course Monsieur Gourmand went for something sinful – a dish of melted cheese (with potatoes and cured meat). Our friend Maighread, an Auberge regular, opted for entrecôte while I followed her advice and went for steak tartare, a daringly spicy mound of meat offset by chunky chips and green salad. Mark the mountain guide (www.markseaton.com), meanwhile, was rather more virtuous, ordering a modest yet delicious-looking goat’s cheese salad; I can’t blame him – if I lunched like this every day I would be the size of a house.

Other than an intrusive photographer sticking his long lens where it wasn’t wanted – ruddy cheeked with frozen strands of hair, wolfing down fiendish food is not an image I want immortalised – and slightly clumsy staff, we had a wonderful lunch at this deservedly popular haunt.

A slither of apricot tarte and a quickly-consumed schnapps were all I needed to banish my sweet tooth before returning to the slopes, which by this time were bathed in glorious afternoon sunshine.

Auberge du Christomet, route du Jaillet, 74120 Megève
(halfway down the Christomet chairlift) +33 (0)450 211134

Water waste

2010-02-25T05:14:00.000-08:00

As if 56 francs for grilled chicken weren’t ludicrous enough, the staff at Gstaad's Hotel Olden serve some very expensive water. The bottle safely out of sight on a table behind me, little did I know that the waiters were craftily refilling my San Pellegrino until I had polished off a whole bottle and started another.

Despite having drunk only about 30ml of the second bottle, I grudgingly paid for both (at 8 francs each) lest the restaurant’s plastic-faced patrons thought me a pauper.

Blissfully unaware of my costly water consumption, however, I did enjoy my meal of scrumptious Swiss fare.

This being my first foray into the German-speaking part of Switzerland, I ordered sliced veal Zurich style with rösti. It was delicious - tender veal strips smothered in creamy sauce, soaked up by soft shredded potatoes. I was a little put off by the discovery of a hair but, since it looked suspiciously like mine in both length and colour, I thought it best not to cause a commotion.

Not that the elderly couple on the next table would have minded; they couldn’t stop staring at my friend’s enormous veal cutlet Milanese with cherry tomatoes and rocket salad. Nothing kills the appetite like people watching you eat so, although it was certainly tasty, she was soon defeated by the sizeable slab.

Full enough to resist an apple strudel, Zug kirsch cake or even white truffle ice cream with Lavazza, I compromised by ordering peppermint tea with some very tempting petit fours. But apparently they only come with coffee, so the sugary morsels set us back another 8 francs.

I knew lunch in Gstaad would be a fancy affair – after all, high prices are necessary to keep out the commoners – but the Olden takes the biscuit.

Hotel Olden, CH-3780 Gstaad
+41 (0)33 748 4950; www.hotelolden.ch

Queen of tartes

2010-02-08T06:40:00.000-08:00

Nestled in the enclave of Plaine Dranse between the ski resorts of Avoriaz and Châtel, Le Vieux Chalet is a warm, woody retreat, stuffed to the gunnels with sprigs of greenery, cowbells, wicker baskets and bears. Not towering taxidermies of fearsome grizzlies, but a collection of teddy bears that fills every cupboard and renders the staircase impassable.

Then there is BaBeth, the chalet’s foxy, fifty-something proprietor. Rumour has it she doesn’t suffer fools, ruthlessly ejecting indecisive skiers torn between tartiflette and fondue. That said, the warm-hearted hostess has also been known to break out the champagne after hearing of a patron's proposal on the piste.

Beware of asking BaBeth about herself; without hesitation she will foist upon you a laminated magazine article detailing the trials and tribulations of her life, before thrusting forth her newly published book, which seems to follow a similar theme. Then comes the photo album, a lengthy catalogue of BaBeth’s snow-filled frolics and provocative poses, before visitors can finally think about food.

The menu of mountain fare complements the alpine interior where tables are tucked away in cosy nooks, scattered with red and green cushions. Washed down with some robust red wine, platters of viandes sechées can be followed by a tasty thin-crust pizza or tartiflette – a hot and hearty Savoyard speciality of potatoes, onions and reblochon cheese.

Le Vieux Chalet is almost as well known for its spectacular tartes as for its extrovert owner and a chunky wedge of the bilberry or Tatin varieties makes for a fruity conclusion to a mountain meal. All that’s left is for BaBeth to draw one of her signature black hearts on your cheek before you hit the slopes… as if you needed anything to remember her by.

Le Vieux Chalet, 74390 Châtel, France
+33 (0)450 73 38 77; www.vieuxchalet.com

Delicious drama

2010-02-04T05:23:00.000-08:00

At Little Bay, an unassuming south London restaurant, first-time diners are always astounded when the resident opera singer bursts into song. The décor is similarly dramatic – dark reds and golds evoke London’s traditional theatres – while ladders lead to the most sought-after tables for dress circle devotees.

This was the image I had in mind while walking to L’Opéra Bouffe, an Eaux-Vives eatery named after the burlesque style of entertainment pioneered by Jacques Offenbach in 19th century Paris. The reality was quite different, however: not an opera singer in sight and the food was fabulous.

Our round table reflected the shape of the enormous mirror, which allows wall-facing diners to soak up the surroundings without craning their necks. The dim light of table lamps brings burlesque to mind, while cherubic carvings and a miniature proscenium perched on the bar reinforce the theatrical theme.

For the ‘preludio’, we ordered two plates of flavoursome foie gras with crispy pieces of toast to share. More adventurous eaters might like to sample a slice of black pudding, sweetly balanced by red onion compote and caramelised apples, or perhaps half a dozen oysters.

Slightly baffled by the florid French menu, I ordered something containing polenta, aubergines and duck as my ‘intermezzo’. Monsieur Gourmand went for blanquette de veau comme autrefois - crudely translated as ‘blanket of veal from another time’ - a description that was too intriguing to turn down...

The time-travelling calf creation turned out to be a delicious veal stew, perked up by hearty winter vegetables and lashings of cream. But it was easily trumped by my tagine of piping hot polenta and shredded duck, topped with aubergines and melted cheese. I felt full about half way through but couldn’t bring myself to stop as I savoured each mouthful of my moist, moreish meal.

Alas, this left little room for a final act fanfare of tarte tatin, dark chocolate sorbet or Scottish ice cream with whisky, cream and marinated raisins – sweet sensations that demand a return visit to this vaudevillian neighbourhood haunt.

L’Opéra Bouffe, 5 avenue de Frontenex, 1207 Genève
+41 (0)22 736 6300 www.operabouffe.ch

Flavoursome feast

2010-01-24T07:02:00.000-08:00

As our dessert arrived at Le 3 Rive Gauche, Monsieur Gourmand declared himself to be utterly replete with meat and unable to consume another thing. However, after sampling the minty ‘broth’ of mandarin and orange with sweet mint sorbet, he did concede that it was indeed a refreshing and aromatic end to a fantastic feast of flavours that had included foie gras, truffle, cider and sausage.

Enhanced by the unmistakeable whiff of black truffle, Monsieur Gourmand’s steak tartare starter was so exquisite that he was rapturously wishing it didn’t have to end. My foie gras was similarly sensational, cut into a neat oblong with a strip of duck meat in the middle and accompanied by a crisp green salad with hazelnut dressing.

Peering over at the next table’s beef – when the presentation is this good, diners can’t help but be fascinated by other people’s plates – we wondered if we should have ordered the côte de boeuf; our fears were soon allayed when we saw my scallops Saint-Jacques neatly perched atop clumps of green basil risotto, surrounded by a cider and beetroot sauce. The scallops were of course scrumptious, although for 42 francs I might have expected more than four.

Monsieur Gourmand declined my offer to try one because his palate, still in truffle tartare ecstasy, was so overwhelmed by the robust flavour of his smoky Vaudois sausage. Not to mention the accompanying green lentils, livened up with fiendish foie gras.

Other than Le 3 Rive Gauche’s location in the heart of the Old Town and the building's century-long history – proudly detailed on the website – there is nothing old fashioned about this deservedly popular restaurant. The service is slick, the décor is de rigueur with funky glassware and chunky cutlery, and I particularly like the option of half-size starter portions for more modest appetites.

Most importantly, however, the delectable and daring menu is a tasty triumph that has made a lasting impression on me and Monsieur Gourmand.

Le 3 Rive Gauche, Grand Rue 3, Geneva 1204; 022 810 2929
http://www.le3rg.com/

Burger betrayal

2010-01-14T08:40:00.000-08:00

Crans-Montana is normally known for glorious sunshine, glamorous après-skiers and breathtaking views, so you can imagine the disappointment of arriving to find sparkling sun-drenched slopes replaced by freezing fog and a heavy, snow-filled sky. Skiing conditions would surely be treacherous with such poor visibility so Monsieur Gourmand, our two friends and I admitted defeat and settled in for a long lunch instead.

The only establishment prepared to serve food after 2pm was Senso Alto, a recently refurbished restaurant and bar in the heart of Montana that offers a pleasant mix of modern décor and traditional alpine cosiness. Sumptuous fireside armchairs would be ideal for sitting back with a wedge of cake and a cup of tea, while square, chunky tables make the perfect platform for enjoying a hearty mountain meal.

Chilled to the bone after our snowy search for an amenable eatery, we wasted no time in ordering our first bottle of Pinot noir. This was enjoyed with a plate of viandes sechées which, though tasty, might benefit from a few more cornichons and fresher bread (I suspect the once luxurious loaf had graced several bread baskets by this late hour).

Feeling rather doughy myself after the Christmas holidays, I opted for a relatively light chèvre salad. It was a little on the small side but delicious nonetheless – the melted goat’s cheese oozed over the bread croutons onto a bed of subtly dressed green leaves scattered with pine kernels.

While one of our group enjoyed a thick and nutritious minestrone soup, Monsieur Gourmand and our other friend both chose burgers – or so we thought.

Monsieur Gourmand’s looked a little meagre but at least it contained some meat, unlike the tartiflette ‘burger’ which took us all by surprise when it turned out to be just tartiflette. In a bun. Was it wrong to expect a burger to contain, well, a burger? Or, in Senso Alto speak, is a cheese burger another name for a cheese sandwich? Would they call a bean-filled bun a veggie burger?

Two bottles of Pinot noir later this menu misdescription was long forgotten. As day turned to night we left feeling warm and reasonably well fed, looking forward to the following day when, thankfully, Crans-Montana’s celebrated sunshine returned.

Senso Alto, Avenue de la Gare 2, 3963 Crans-Montana

Touristy but tasty

2009-12-18T06:20:00.000-08:00

Now that the winter season is under way – and mindful of this blog’s title – I think it’s about time I indulged in some proper alpine eating as well as just Geneva haunts.

After a day’s cold and cloudy skiing in Chamonix last weekend, my companions and I found ourselves in La Calèche, a warm, woody and shamelessly touristy town centre restaurant where the pine-clad walls are festooned with pots, pans, old typewriters and telephones – I think I even spotted a ceramic sheep on the floor.

A particularly nice touch was the shelf by the loo from which patrons can take their pick of perfumes and aftershaves, although I’m afraid the Issey Miyake was empty. Not that a scented squirt would have made much difference against the heavy smell of cheese that pervades a place specialising in fondue and yodelling – this latter tradition thankfully relegated to Tuesdays.

Our two friends opted for onion soup topped with an enormous cheesy crouton to start, while Monsieur Gourmand went for garlicky escargots and I tried the goat’s cheese salad. Sun dried tomatoes and pine kernels added taste and texture but I thought the bacon slightly unnecessary, an overpowering addition to the melting chèvre.

To accompany the delicious St Estèphe wine, the obvious choice for main course was raw meat served with a stone slab on which to cook it. The beef wasn’t particularly tender (although that might have been Monsieur Gourmand’s cooking technique) and the three non-descript sauces didn’t make up for the lack of seasoning; however the creamy, crispy-on-top potato dauphinoise was a delicious antidote to a hard day on the slopes.

Amazingly, we managed to find room for dessert, which turned out to be a disappointing reflection of the dreamy-sounding descriptions. The apple pie lacked any crumbly rustic charm while its accompanying cinnamon ice cream was nothing more than vanilla with a dash of colouring and a soupçon of spice. And I devoured enough white chocolate and passion fruit crème brûlée to conclude that this classic dish should not be complicated by unnecessary flavours.

I almost forgot to mention the mechanical polar bear in the entrance hall – a cheesy but charming feature of this adequate yet unremarkable alpine eatery.

La Calèche, 18 Rue Paccard, 74403 Chamonix. +33 (0)450 559468

www.restaurant-caleche.com

L'Armoire

2009-12-15T03:13:00.000-08:00

I could focus on the failings of L’Armoire – dull décor, snooty clientele and of course slow service – but such trivialities can be overlooked when the food is this fabulous.

The restaurant’s design is hardly cutting edge with blackboards, library-style lampshades, dark wood and burgundy banquettes, however it does bring to mind warmth, comfort and red meat, which is just as well because carnivorous cuisine is L’Armoire’s forte.

Neither Monsieur Gourmand nor I could resist the pan fried foie gras to start, a fiendish luxury I hadn’t allowed myself for at least six months. It was a guilty pleasure worth waiting for, the meat’s rich flavour in heavenly harmony with the balsamic and raspberry reduction.

My companion continued the foie gras frenzy, ordering pavé de boeuf with jus de foie gras for his main course, served with a flourish of frites poking out of a glass. My ‘tataki de thon rouge’ was equally enticing, the red tuna flesh having been seared for mere seconds to lightly singe the sesame seeds. With sides of oriental spinach, basmati rice, soy sauce and wasabi, my appetite was certainly sated, yet I still felt virtuous enough to allow myself a peek at the dessert menu.

So divine was the chocolate mousse that three days later I am still salivating at the memory. It might even have been the best chocolate mousse I’ve ever had, the deep chocolatey flavour enhanced by the subtle scent and texture of hazelnuts, and tempered by a chunk of mint sorbet. Be warned though, it is denser than most mousses, not to mention enormous, so definitely one for sharing.

Poncey patrons and lazy waiters aside, L’Armoire hasn’t lost sight of the idea that food should be the raison d’être of any restaurant. I look forward to coming back for more meaty, moussey indulgences in 2010.

L’Armoire, Vieille Ville; www.l-armoire.ch; +41 (0)22 311 3724

Brasserie Lipp

2009-12-03T03:13:00.000-08:00

Our dinner at Brasserie Lipp started on an irritating note when Monsieur Gourmand and I were met with the usual shock and disbelief at not having made a reservation.

Of course, as if by magic, a table was soon conjured up and they managed to squeeze us in. ‘Squeeze’ being the operative word as we were cast out into the middle of the brightly lit brasserie on a table barely big enough for one enthusiastic eater, let alone two.

The comprehensive menu seemed to be full of things I had never heard of and I had a feeling that the apron-wearing waiters would think me a food philistine if I dared enquire about the provenance of a paillard or the content of a quenelle. Consequently, I chose to play it safe with moules frites while Monsieur Gourmand went for a stab in the dark and ordered a choucroute.

As the growing pile of paraphernalia arrived at our tiny table – a mini gas stove, candle-heated hotplates, ladles – we began to wonder what we had let ourselves in for. It turns out that the stove was to warm my moules which, although a bit puny, were served in a tasty creamy sauce and accompanied by first class frites.

The choucroute looked a little heavy and hearty for my tastes but Monsieur Gourmand was delighted with it. Peppercorns embedded among the strands of sauerkraut added a spicy edge to the vinegary vegetables while heightening the fine flavours of a humble yet heavenly frankfurter and another deliciously seasoned sausage packed with pistachios.

It was a shame that Monsieur Gourmand was too stuffed to contemplate a dessert because this is where Brasserie Lipp truly triumphs. I was sorely tempted by the mille-feuille aux marrons and the artisan ice creams but my Sergent Lipp – blood orange sorbet in a glass of campari – proved to be the perfect combination of dessert and digestif. A refreshing finale to a meal only marred by the discomfort of a too-small table.

Brasserie Lipp, Confédération Centre www.brasserielipp.ch

Style vs. substance

2009-10-23T05:42:00.000-07:00

As Monsieur Gourmand and I braved the biting wind on the Pont du Mont Blanc the other night, we agreed that Geneva is a town of two halves. On the one hand it is a banking centre where the world’s wealthiest can safely squirrel away their money; on the other hand it is a haven for human rights and international development, playing host to countless charities and NGOs.

This means Geneva’s restaurants must cater for city slickers and caviar-eating oligarchs as well as scientists and diplomats from all corners of the globe.

Le Comptoir is a hip ‘designer’ hangout where trendy Geneva-dwellers can pretend they are in Paris or London as they admire each other over low rectangular tables, socialising to a soundtrack of funky house music and munching their way through a menu of Asian ‘fusion’ food.

At first glance, it perfectly fits the mould of sophisticated urban eatery with its minimalist banquettes, mellow lighting and exotic-sounding dishes. Scratch the surface, however, and the concept comes unstuck. Peeling paint on the walls is barely disguised by MDF panels emitting white light through crudely drilled holes, while wires dangle untidily from the corner speakers. One might expect immaculate oriental waiters, yet orders are taken by an earthy woman with weather-beaten skin who might be more at home serving herbal infusions and organic cakes.

The platters of sushi that floated past looked fabulous but I had consumed a week’s worth of raw fish the night before so I went for ‘teppan de poulet à la sauce teriyaki’ – chunks of chicken coated in a gloopy sauce that didn’t seem to taste of much other than salt. Perhaps some of the effort that went into creating Le Comptoir’s jaunty jungle-style website should have gone into the food.

Our visit to Le Grand Café in Eaux-Vives two days later was quite the reverse.

Confronted by the sight of a lone customer sipping red wine under harsh yellow lights, we wondered what we had let ourselves in for when we set foot in this traditional Swiss restaurant. But, as with our Comptoir experience, we were soon reminded that appearances can be deceptive.

I denied myself a starter while Monsieur Gourmand went for foie gras soup. Having imagined an unappetising grey, fatty liquid, I realised I had missed out when I tasted the frothy, deliciously subtle soup that it turned out to be.

I feared I might be defeated by the main course – we both ordered enormous entrecôte charolaise – but the thick wedge of meat was so flavoursome that I devoured the whole thing as well as the home made frites and the Café de Paris sauce, served as a herby butter that melts over the meat rather than in a jug. The sheer size of the hefty steak allowed us plenty of time to admire our surroundings. What had at first seemed like a tired old café was on closer inspection a picture of understated elegance with shiny tiled floors and a magnificent stained glass ceiling befitting an old-style ocean liner.

Given a choice between designer décor and substandard cooking or zero atmosphere and down to earth deliciousness, I know which one I’ll be returning to.

Le Comptoir, 9 Rue de Richemont, Paquis www.lecomptoirdesign.com
Le Grand Café, 8 Rue du Vieux-Marché, Eaux-Vives www.legrandcafe.ch

Tainted tartare

2009-10-14T06:03:00.000-07:00

In the days before such continental condiments as vinaigrette and balsamic vinegar graced British plates, lettuce leaves were liberally doused with Heinz salad cream. But it seems we weren’t the only ones with a taste for processed, sickly sauces; the European equivalent is salsa rosa, a vinegary mélange of mayonnaise and ketchup.

One day when lunching in Geneva’s Vieille Ville I ordered a tasty sounding salad of avocado and crevettes, expecting to see four or five juicy-looking crustaceans poking out of the greenery, perhaps perked up by a light lemony dressing. The reality was a bowl of dull iceberg lettuce and a couple of avocado chunks topped off with a dollop of flourescent pink sauce containing a dozen poky prawns.

Maybe this is to be expected in a tourist trap Old Town eatery but I would have expected more from the steak tartare at Les 5 Portes, a well-regarded restaurant in Pâquis. Yes, a good tartare should certainly be tangy from seasoning and perhaps a touch of mustard, but when something tastes so unnaturally sweet and sour from lashings of salsa rosa you start to wonder what the chef is trying to hide.

Thankfully, the steak was redeemed by a side dish of ever-so-slightly undercooked roasted new potatoes, which happens to be just how I like them.

Monsieur Gourmand tried the pumpkin soup to start, which didn’t taste much like pumpkin but was tasty nonetheless, before tucking into a slow-cooked lamb shank. This proved to be a real autumnal treat, the tender meat coming easily away from the bone onto a fluffy bed of polenta surrounded by firm and flavoursome root vegetables.

Huge gold-framed mirrors and a vintage tricycle above the entrance set Les 5 Portes apart from its identikit minimalist rivals while rusty red, burnt orange and sand coloured walls create a warm atmosphere to offset the palatial dimensions. This eclectic style, combined with a crowd-pleasing menu and an alluring list of cocktails, attracts a sophisticated yet unpretentious clientele of cosy couples, gossiping groups of girls and boho arty types.

The staff were friendly, if a little annoying – I had to confirm three times that no, we really hadn’t reserved before the horrified waiter conceded that he did indeed have a free table (quelle surprise) – and the cramped layout isn’t ideal for eating. But these are small imperfections; salsa rosa aside, Les 5 Portes is a lively and sophisticated spot for eating, drinking and socialising in style.

8 Rue de Zurich, 1201 Genève; 022 731 8438
www.lescandale.ch

Greek Helvetique

2009-09-24T05:01:00.000-07:00

In August Monsieur Gourmand and I went to Corfu. Everything was as it should be - sun-filled days spent swimming and snorkelling followed by balmy evenings guzzling retsina and tucking into grilled Greek delights - except this time something wasn't quite right.

The fish wasn't especially meaty or abundant, the grilled octopus tasted tinned at times and, on more than one occasion, the squid had a bitter, silvery paste inside that I can only assume was the remnants of entrails.

Food being one of the key factors in my ultimate enjoyment of any holiday, I left Corfu feeling a little shortchanged. Of course, Switzerland is the last place one should go when feeling shortchanged but a month after my return to Geneva I enjoyed a Greek meal good enough to banish my holiday disappointment.

Emilios near Plainpalais offers a fine choice of healthy mezze, from fava beans and feta to tzatziki and taramosalata, as well as an excellent selection of meaty moussakas and comforting kleftikos. But on a pleasantly warm September night, nothing was going to tear me away from some grilled, succulent seafood.

My substantial squid came whole, chargrilled and doused in herby lemon. Monsieur Gourmand was also most impressed with his two fat tentacles of octopus (to my great relief as I have come to dread his frustration after each failed attempt to cook it himself).

Emilios is only let down by its décor, which is more bingo hall than beachside taverna. Bright lights extinguish any hint of romance, the plain, practical furniture would be more at home in a motorway diner and a conspicuous lack of greenery makes the Mediterranean feel far, far away.

Nevertheless, the food was good quality and we stuffed ourselves enough to be grateful for the walk home.

Swiss service

2009-09-12T02:10:00.000-07:00

Nobody tips in Switzerland because the service is generally dreadful. I think it's a chicken and egg situation - do diners not tip because the service is bad or do waiters make no effort because they know they won't be rewarded?

Anyway, it didn't really matter last Sunday because Monsieur Gourmand and I had a wonderful lunch at Lacustre in Bellevue despite waiting for what seemed like an eternity for somebody to give us a menu. The view was so glorious that I was only too happy to bask in the bright September sun, watching sailboats whizz along the lake in front of a glistening Mont Blanc.

This was our second visit to Lacustre and it was a vast improvement on the first. One dark, chilly night in early spring we had been seated next to two young couples and their whining offspring while we shared a disappointingly bland Chateaubriand served by a heavy-browed and bequiffed waiter whose apparent drunkenness rendered him incapable of remembering anything.

Perhaps it was too early in the day for him to hit the bottle as he seemed sober and friendly on this second visit - though still painfully slow. And he wasn't the only thing to have improved - the food was delicious. Tasty and lemony perches du lac meunière were served with a filo basket full of vegetables while the rich and tangy steak tartare was a triumph of taste and presentation, topped off with a lattice of vegetables and accompanied by nutty rice.

It goes without saying that such a backdrop demanded a cold bottle of rosé and we left feeling a little light-headed, full of food and totally in awe of our scenic surroundings.

Risotto that rocks

2009-08-27T04:51:00.000-07:00

Last night I was invited with my partner, who shall from now on be known as Monsieur Gourmand, to the home of one of his colleagues for risotto.

The apartment is in a fabulous spot close to trendy Carouge with a wraparound balcony that offers views of the Jura mountains, the near-vertical rockface of the Salève and the craggy peaks of the Alps in the distance. Even the Jet d'eau can be spotted poking out above the roof tops.

The other guests were all bankers so it is no surprise that champagne was being consumed by all. I wouldn't have imagined, however, that the pricey aperitif would also feature as part of the meal.

I had been told that risotto would be on the menu and had wondered what might accompany the rice. Wild mushrooms? Truffles? Cheese or peas perhaps? But when the huge saucepan appeared on the table it appeared to be a simple risotto with no other discernible ingredients at all. Then the hostess proceeded to plonk a baby bottle of Moet in the centre of the saucepan and added a teaspoon of sugar so that the foam erupted into the surrounding rice, much to everyone's surprise and delight.

With a sprinkling of parmigiano, the champagne risotto was a very tasty dish and proof that a dinner party is all the more memorable with some drama thrown in to the mix.

Spicy discovery

2009-08-24T09:30:00.000-07:00

I thought it would at least take some investigating and some less-than-satisfying saag aloo before stumbling across a good Indian in Geneva. Luckily it looks as though my fears were unfounded.

Bollywood is in a square in Paquis, a surprisingly edgy district of Geneva where ethnic eateries jostle for position and the city's sex trade is evident on every corner. A sort of Swiss Soho, if you like.

The interior of the restaurant itself is charmingly old fashioned with red carpets and gold Ganeshas on display but on balmy evenings the terrace is the place to be. Diners can tuck into poppadums, chutney and a cold beer or two while watching the cool crowd of Paquis passing by.

A lover of tandoori lamb, I thought my usual choice perhaps a little wintry for such a sultry summer night so I went for fish instead. The firm flesh of the salmon came apart in succulent morsels while the tangy tandoori flavour lingered long after the final bite.

The accompanying tarka dhal was pleasingly thick and less liquidised than its British equivalent, the naan bread crisp and brown around the edges - and refreshingly free of butter.

Though I'm sure the people of Mumbai think nothing of devouring hot and spicy food in searing temperatures, I still associate subcontinental cuisine with winter. When the colder weather arrives this autumn the excitement of skiing and fondues will now be matched by the prospect of further forays into Geneva's spicy restaurant scene - and perhaps a return visit to Bollywood.