Fondue & Gruyere

When the chance came to travel to the Franche-Comte region of Europe, I couldn’t have been more excited.  I relished the opportunity to learn more about this slightly remote, yet bountiful place.  And thanks to Jason Hinds, Ari Weinzweig, and Benoit Prince, it included the great caves of Marcel Petite.

This day, however, was for some free roaming, tasting, and drinking out of the Doubs River.  The region lies along the border of France & Switzerland, including the beautiful Jura Mountains.  The mountains feature many valleys and a few gorges while serving as a sort of precursor to the mighty Alps.  Here are people depending on nature, animals, and the land for sustenance.  Perfect for grazing, the green fields stretch as far as the eye can see. 

For my first stop, I decided to go up into the first mountain I could get to and go to a real swiss chalet that serves fondue.  The place, La Barillette, had been recommended by some Swiss from the area - I took a chance and was rewarded – the road up zigzagged crazily and made me smile as I love the challenge of driving in a new place. 

As I went up, the view kept getting better and better, with actual rock formations peaking out of rolling hills.  And yes, I even found the snow.  A lot of people were encountered on the roads and trails hiking, while I was avoiding the wild life.  As I was driving down a particular stretch of narrow ‘road’, a deer-like animal jumped down the right side of the road (elevated about 5-10 feet) onto the pavement and with 3-4 quick steps jumped onto the left side (dropping off by about 4-8 feet).  So impressive, that I found out from my French fondue server that it was a chamois.

The trip upwards, which as far as I could tell, only led to an observation point and the chalet, took about 20 minutes by car.  The restaurant/chalet is situated at an elevation of 1,450 meters/4,750 feet.  The views (above) are spectacular.  The first thing I noticed about Switzerland was the air.  Clear, wet, and refreshing, even at the high altitudes I loved breathing it in. 

The inside of the chalet (I don’t know why I didn’t take a picture of the outside), was completely wood with a stone floor and lots of natural light.  It featured a bar next to a nice open fireplace.

For food, I went with a white wine, Jura Arbois.  Clean, and slightly sweet it went well with the Fondue.  I had been 'warned' that the wines of this region were on the mineral tasting side and they were right (Grr....).  But, when you started to pair them with Comte, and, of course, fondue they made sense.  Fon-what?!?  Fon-do!!! 

Made according to the traditional method of using a little white wine with kirsch, the fondue was extremely yummy.  Featuring Gruyere d’Alpage and Mont d’Or from the nearby village of Mont-la-Ville, the fondue was beautifully balanced with that perfect sweet nuttiness that moved to a tangy intensity found in the mountain cheeses of Europe. 

After lunch, I made my way down the ‘hill’ and moved through the Jura to Pontarlier, France.  Everywhere you look, there are signs for ‘fromage’ and ‘du lait’.  Gruyere, Mont d’Or, and Comte were the dominant cheeses.  I literally could have taken a hundred pictures of all of the barns, shops, and dairies.

On one occasion, I decided to stop.  The sign said Gruyere D’Alpage (center pic above) and there were cars out front.  After poking around, I found a dairy farmer that was milking his cows.  They all had beautiful markings and most of them appeared to be Holsteins. 

I figured out that the farmer was filling the milk into vats for transport.  After some broken English, French, and I think some Italian, he convinced me to follow him.  I followed.  I was rewarded.

A 5 minutes drive led us to a fromagerie in a small village.  Inside was a Gruyere d’Alpage dairy with a small retail storefront.  The picture above is taken 10 minutes after it re-opened in the evening (6:30 p.m.).  People started streaming in like clock work, just for cheese and a choice of a couple breads. 

As they unloaded their milk, they invited me inside.  Set up in sort of an industrial style, the milk was coming in to a large vat for measuring.  This was evening milk, so it was being pumped into Vat #1, where it would be stirred for the evening. 

The French speaking cheesemaker was quite amused that I was so interested in the process.  We were unable to understand each other and yet, I’m pretty sure he was making fun of me. 

Through many attempts at communicating, I finally figured out that the cheese was being made via pasteurization and that they had both a cheese making floor and a cellar in which to age the wheels.  Actually, the conversation went like this:

Me:  Do you pasteurize the cheese?
Him:  
Me:  Do you warm up the cheese?
Him:  
Me:    Do you pasteurize the cheese?
Him:  
Me:  Louis Pasteur?
Him:  Oui
Me:  Pasteur fromage?
Him:  No, No, NO, NO!!
Me:  
Him:  Something inaudible in French.....
Me:  Pasteur fromage?
Him:  Oui, oui, oui.

 I did not make any attempts to see the cellar – call it communication exhaustion. 

After spending time in the copper vat above, the milk would be transferred into an identical vat, for more stirring.  Next, the milk would go into a heating tank were the pasteurization would take place. 

Of course, then the real work would begin in the morning.  When all done, it would reach the pressing stage. 

I learned from the lady behind the counter that most of the cheese was aged around six months and was shipped out to various buyers.  At the counter, they sold three ages:  6 months, 9 months, and one year, all of which were made onsite. 

For someone who had considered this a travel day on the way to Comte land, I was pleasantly surprised by my adventures.  Many times, I had to remind myself that driving through the beautiful countryside and breathing the refreshing air was a way of life for the lucky few living in the region.  I say lucky few, because they all seemed to be content and happy with their way of life and surroundings.  Isolated is probably to extreme a word, but the region does not feature a lot of artificial stimuli.  I only saw one ‘supermarket’, no movie theaters, and very few places with clothing, supplies, etc. in the hour drive from the chalet to the town of Pontarlier, France.  The biggest attraction seemed to be an occasional ski area (big surprise). 

In the meantime, I grabbed a quick snack at a gas station and headed for the hostel, where I was excited to being waking up in France.  French pastry and bread, followed by a trip to the caves of Marcel Petite??!?!!!!?  Yes, please.