Style vs. substance

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

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