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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/
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
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
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
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
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
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
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