Alpine Culinary Traditions: Fondue in the Frozen Months
Shared winter fondue in a restaurant with a group of visiting friends. March 7, 2020. St. Gallen, Switzerland.
When the United States had a wide-ranging cold front a while back, it prompted someone to reach out to me to ask for a fondue recipe.
See, while people in Switzerland eat fondue seasonally (or even all year), cheese fondue had a brief all-year-round vogue in the United States back in the 1960s and 1970s—after which it essentially disappeared.
So this person, knowing I live in Switzerland, asked if I had a handy “standard favorite” recipe for fondue—and could give her some guidance on making it.
The Origins of Fondue
First, I’ll defuse tensions among my French and Swiss readers by clarifying to the readers here that the French and the Swiss claim credit for having created fondue. (It is, indeed, a French word. Yet French is one of the official Swiss languages. So.)
However, given changes in borders over the ages and migration and so on and so forth, I’ve decided to avoid all that debate here. Let’s just call it a “francophone” invention and play nice.
Here in Switzerland, the standard cheese fondue (the “classic,” you could say) is called “moitié-moitié,” which means “half and half” in French. The name refers to the fact that the standard Swiss recipe uses half gruyère cheese and half vacherin cheese.
The Classic Swiss Fondue Recipe
The recipe, which can have tiny variations based on the cook, has fairly stabilized over the years. (If this post has you craving fondue, you can grab the typical Swiss moitié-moitié recipe here.)
Despite Switzerland having as firm a reputation for chocolate as it does for cheese, the much beloved American “chocolate fondue” isn’t really a thing in fondue-eating Switzerland or France. In fact, when I mention such a concoction, I mainly get befuddled looks.
And while the classic fondue is the cheese version, you can find people and restaurants occasionally serving a broth-based fondue, called “fondue bourguigonne,” served with several different dipping sauces for the meat. However, this is a relatively new addition to the Swiss culinary landscape, as it only evolved after the second world war.
The Customs and Traditions of Swiss Fondue
Of course, the culture here has its rules on fondue eating:
The Swiss swear that you need to drink white wine, kirsh, or herbal tea with cheese fondue to ensure it doesn’t turn into an undigestible ball in your stomach. They even say you shouldn’t drink water while you eat it. (Sorry—I do. Hot tea and hot cheese is just… too much.)
You don’t eat fondue as a side dish or appetizer, but as the main course. You eat it with crusty—bordering on stale, to my tastes—bread and have, on the side, cured meats and maybe a salad. (The salad, though? Not typical. So I always order or make one, because honestly: I can’t have an entire meal of cheese, bread, and cured meat without a single fresh vegetable.)
Like with most shared foods, you don’t double dip a single piece of bread in the fondue. Swirl around a piece of bread with your fondue fork, remove it, and then eat the entire thing. Don’t take a bite and then stick it back into the pot. (Seems obvious, and yet.)
If dining in a restaurant, the person who loses bread in the fondue pot has to pay. If you eat fondue at home, the bread-dropper has to do some other preassigned chore or task. (Traditionally, anyway. I haven’t seen this rule go past teasing to actual obligation.)
When you’ve reached the bottom of the fondue pot, you’ll find a layer of hardened, crispy cheese called “la religieuse.” Someone will fork it out and divvy it up among the guests as a delicacy. (To me, the religieuse is the best part of the entire fondue experience.)
Fondue in Moderation: Impossible
If all this hasn’t made you crave melted cheese, you’re a stronger person than me.
I will say, though, that I rarely eat or make fondue—mainly because when seated around a table with friends and acquaintances and a huge pot of warm, melted cheese, I find it almost impossible to notice when I’ve had enough. I pass far into “too much” before my stomach manages to communicate with my brain.
And then, because I’ve eaten a massive amount of bread and cheese (and little else!), the digestive process, let’s say, takes days.
But on occasion, especially on a cold night and after a long hike or snowy-season sportive activity, I can’t resist a good Swiss fondue!