Pizza penalty shootout

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

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

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

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

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

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

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