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

Queen of tartes

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

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

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

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

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

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