My parents are arriving in Geneva this afternoon, and tomorrow I am responsible for providing them with an American Thanksgiving dinner, Swiss style. Even for a dedicated foodie like myself, this is something of a tall order. How to reconcile the various gastronomic traditions into one coherent meal? Roughly thirty-six hours before game time, I still can't quite figure out how to provide turkey and cranberries to my health-conscious parents in a country that subsists off of cheese and chocolate.
Let me just say right off that I lost fifteen pounds in my first four weeks in Geneva. Yes, I have discovered the ultimate Swiss diet, and I will tell you my secret free of charge. There are two parts: a) food in the French-speaking part of Switzerland (including Geneva) tastes terrible; and b) food in Switzerland is prohibitively expensive, so expensive that I simply stopped consuming it.
Switzerland perhaps does not have the reputation for fine cuisine like France or Italy, but it is at the crossroads of all of Europe, which would ostensibly make this the prime spot to experience the best of all European cuisines. Furthermore, the Swiss are known for their exacting nature and their dedication to natural products. The manual for my study abroad program advised at the top of the "clothing" section: "Do not bring tight clothing. You will gain weight in Switzerland."
Yet when I made my first foray into the MM Migros in Petit Lancy (a large supermarket chain in a suburb of Geneva), I was confronted with tasteless croissants for about $2 and two chicken breasts going for around $15. The bananas were brown, the tomatoes were green, and potatoes were black. My mother had raised me to carefully inspect and ingest my vegetables and here I was surrounded by a cornucopia of offerings flown in from international locations - all about two weeks too late.
Attempting to stave off a panic attack in the produce aisle, I turned to the left and encountered a different kind of shock: The dairy section, which accounted for about half of the entire store. You know all those cows with bells I keep talking about? They're not just for decoration. Those cows get milked, and they bless us here in Switzerland with fabulous, fattening dairy products.
Simply put, Swiss yogurt is one of the top ten reasons I love Switzerland. I've tried them all, from the sweet simplicity of vanilla with chocolate flakes to the custardy joys of my all-time favorite, apricot Quark. From prune mu??¬i (Heidi brand only, I don't mess around) to my daily lunch of the Slimline fat-free apricot yogurt drink, my gastronomic pleasures are simple and pure. Full-fat to non-fat, flavored to plain, I can confidently assert that my bones are stronger thanks to Swiss yogurt.
Now, other Swiss dairy products are quite delightful as well. Think about it, Switzerland has an entire cheese named after it. The two most iconic Swiss national dishes, fondue and raclette, consist of pots of bubbling hot cheese. Milk, eggs, and, of course, chocolate (I have seen mecca, yes I have, and it's called the Lindt chocolate factory) are also quite fine.
But I digress. The food of the Suisse Romandes is still vile, and terribly overpriced. It is universally agreed upon in Geneva that it is impossible to get a good loaf of bread. Eating out will cost you a fortune and the majority of places offer pizza or kebab.
On my weekly angst-filled forays to the supermarket, I often ponder the food culture of this diverse town. After three months of staring despondently at the Migros fruit bin, I believe I worked out a theoretical understanding of how people eat in Geneva. In Geneva, we have three main dietary groups. Group A: bankers. Members of Group A eat at the city's fine restaurants, putting the 200 Swiss franc bill on their UBS account. Group B: international organization/non-governmental organization workers. Since this group is pretty much entirely of British origin, they survive happily on pasta and curry. Finally, Group C: students. For their dietary habits, I have one word: kebab.
Thus for all those columns devoted to globalization in Geneva, in terms of food this city is stuck in a terrible time warp. While Switzerland has one of Europe's highest percentages of asylum seekers, and holds in its banks' coffers much of the world's money, here in Geneva you can't separate the cheese from the cow - or find a ripe tomato.
Tomorrow, then, for Thanksgiving, I've decided to ditch the attempt to integrate all groups and simply go with what the Swiss do best. What to offer my health-food conscious parents in a country of such varied gastronomic experiences? The solution stands clear: yogurt, all the way, baby. I'm milking those cows for all they're worth.
