Butter rivals

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

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

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.kirinsushi.com

Tip rip off

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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