Fondue Revivals, Last Wintery Weeks and Marmalade Uses.
Plus me realising how long it's been since I had a holiday.
Hello, it’s great to
see you again!
Editor – Phoebe Tully
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When I was 17, I was (unbelievably) lucky enough to travel with my family for a few months straight.
We spent a full month in Paris, the five of us stacked on top of one another in a tiny one-bedroom apartment on Rue Mouffetard in the 5e – right above the market.
The Rue Mouffetard Market is a food market, and while it may not have been the birth of my love of food, it certainly poured fuel on the fire. This was a market where you asked for some cream, and the vendor asked what you were serving it with so he could choose the best type for you. When I responded that it was to accompany a chocolate tart, he wanted to know the percentage of the chocolate – was it milk or was it dark?
I was in heaven.
Another food experience I vividly remember was Mum taking us to a little fondue joint (is that a thing? It should be). It wasn’t fancy, but one of the most delicious meals of the trip. For some reason, us kids were initially against it. I can’t imagine why we were against hot melted cheese and meats (we weren’t even around in the ‘60s to resent its revival) but teenagers, am I right?
I have only made cheese fondue once since, and it split. I was in Vancouver on the cusp of winter, visiting my uncles. I was not much older or much more experienced in the kitchen, but I was like a kid in a candy store running around Granville Island, with its enormous indoor food market (and hat shop) I still dream about.
(So far this makes it sound like a travel a lot, but the last time I had a holiday was 10 days in Tasmania in 2021. I know, I know…)
To remind myself of both these amazing trips, I want to make a fondue this weekend (and plan a fricken holiday). If you’d like to have a go yourself, here’s how I plan to go about things:
First things, you do really need a fondue pot. It’s a pain in the butt to do it without the proper pot. Borrow one from your great-aunt if you want to try before you buy.
Just don’t ask her for any stories from the Swinging ‘60s. You don’t want to know.Otherwise there’s a price point for most budgets, ranging from $30 (this one) to $160 (this one). For cheese fondues, I don’t recommend the sets with just a candle burning underneath; you need more horsepower than that.When it comes to the cheese, the “proper” one is moitié-moitié (“half and half”), which is gruyère and freiburger vacherin. In Brisbane, I shall be going with a mix of gruyère, emmental and comte. I have been told that adding a block of that spreadable cheese that comes in wrapped alfoil triangles helps everything melt together and not split, but I haven’t seen that stuff since the ‘90s. Regardless, all cheese should be room temperature to help avoid the fondue splitting.
For the wine, you need something high in acid, as this also apparently helps to prevent splitting (#science). Something like a picpoul de pinet ($16), which I’m finding more and more of at the moment, or a muscadet ($32). Not great would be a sauvignon blanc or a rich chardonnay. Get something you like, as you’ll still have most of the bottle to drink.
To dip into the fondue, you definitely want cubes of sourdough, but make sure they are slightly stale or they’ll be too soft to dip (cut them in the morning and leave them to dry through the day). Other delicious accoutrements include boiled baby potatoes, sliced apples, pears, and cornichons. Remember to stir the fondue slightly each time you dip to keep the consistency right.
OK, I’m off to stop spending so much money on cheese so I can go on a holiday soon… probably to eat cheese.
DO | pick up some mandarins, roast some chestnuts and read A Moveable Feast, ‘cause winter is almost over
MAKE | marmalade with all those inexpensive oranges – for toast in summer as well as this cake
READ | A Bear Called Paddington by Michael Bond, because he also loves marmalade
WATCH | A marathon of This Is Us with boxes of tissues ready to go
LISTEN | Dinah Washington for dayyyys