December 18–25, 1997

food

Fondue is not a meal for the socially phobic. If you eat it, expect potside conversation about the episode where Maude got an abortion.

I really thought it was going to be the worst experience of my life. I mean, it's a fondue restaurant that's part of a chain, for christ's sake. What actually happened was that I kind of dug it.

Fondue Me

It came from the '70s—but that's no reason not to like it.

by Katherine Dahlsgaard

"Fondue? It's tacky," I said. "A Nosferatu fad from the '70s. I don't even want to understand it."

"Fondue! It's both elegant and sophisticated," replied my truly, madly, deeply fabulous friend Virgil, who owns three fondue pots and will use any lame excuse to throw a fondue party.

Which one of us is right?

A timely question, because the winter holidays are here, markedly increasing the likelihood of fondue-enhanced events. Plus, even though nobody gets fondue pots as wedding gifts anymore, there has been a recent surge of fondue chic among second-generation mod-squad high society.

Just by examining the literature, I can easily see the crypto-hipster appeal. A 1970 Better Homes and Gardens' fondue cookbook (Virgil loaned it to me) reads like something you'd group-smirk over in your sophomore year cultural criticism course at Macalester. Ladies of the household are advised to "…experiment with these recipes and you'll become an effervescent, day-by-day fondue hostess." There are special sections devoted entirely to "Pert and Saucy Hot Dips" and "The After Ski Scene." Who wouldn't think she was cool, reading this today and deciding it's funny?

Speaking of hilarity, The Melting Pot is a national chain of fondue restaurants ("A flair for living. A taste for fun," chants the menu). There are 49 of them scattered across the country. Forty-nine! The majority are in Florida, where many Swiss immigrants settled in the late 19th century. Virgil, The Lovely Will and I recently hit the one in Chestnut Hill to debate the soul of fondue.

I really thought it was going to be the worst experience of my life. I mean, it's a fondue restaurant that's part of a chain, for christ's sake. What actually happened was that I kind of dug it and now I think fondue is a really good idea.

After giggling moronically at the entree title "Pacific Rim," we got down to business and ordered what has to be the most unhealthy meal I've ever encountered. I'm worried about Michael Hutchence committing suicide, and yet we ate cheese fondue appetizer ($7.95-$8.95), followed by hot-oil fondue entrees ($11.95-$19.95), and then one of the chocolate fondue desserts ($8.95-$19.90). Call it "Heart Attack in Three Pots."

As the three of us peered into our simmering tablepot like Macbeth's Weird Sisters, I asked Virgil to tell us what he saw. He said: "I see an elegant hostess in billowing palazzo pants circa 1971. She's serving fondue to her guests out of an avocado-colored ceramic pot. She's whispering to the other housewives, exalting over how simple it is to prepare. She's not a slave to the kitchen; fondue has emancipated her." I said: "Look again. Don't you see how disgusting fondue is? Talk about double-dipping. She and her guests may as well be drinking from each other's bath water. The wife-swapping afterwards is going to be more sanitary." The Lovely Will said: "I see the La Brea Tar Pits. I'm afraid my meat is going to go in there and never come back."

But once Will and I got the hang of things (stab, dip, wait and chat wittily, eat; repeat as necessary), we got into the spirit as well. "Fondue is not just food," Virgil sagely informed us. "It's an event." Now, I agree. The fun, as far as I can tell, is that one gets to cook one's own food, at the table, throughout the meal. In this way, fondue is like the perpetual sizzling rice dish, or the never-ending saganaki. Plus, all your friends are doing the same thing, so there is a pleasant communal aspect to the whole shebang. Fondue is process over product, and I like that philosophy.

I've learned that fondue is not a food for the inattentive: If you stick it in there, you will have to remember to rescue it later. Nor is fondue a meal for the socially phobic. If you eat it, chances are you will do so at some hipster's party. You will be expected to dress to the elevens. Some Burt Bacharach or the soundtrack to Boogie Nights will be involved. Prepare yourself for potside conversation about the episode where Maude got an abortion.

If you don't get invited to a fondue party, and you can't see the point in spending any time in Chestnut Hill, don't despair. Husch, in Narberth, features a chocolate fondue ($12 for two) which is their second most popular dessert. Caribou Café offers a cheese pseudo-fondue (in a crock, but I think it still counts) that changes every day ($6); the most popular version is the brie topped with brown sugar and pecans. Finally, The Five Spot serves up chocolate or cheese fondue specials ($7.95), now on an occasional basis but soon as a permanent part of the menu.

I myself am a child of the '70s, but my own fondue memories are scarce. I called Mom to engage her in some reminiscing. Our family did not save fondue for special occasions; I remember it just sort of appearing at the table, every so often, without warning. Mom always prepared the kill-your-kids-and-husband/ meat-dipped-in-boiling-oil variety. I thought of Virgil's fantasy '70s housewife (although my mother worked like a dog throughout my childhood) and asked, "Did you find that serving fondue 'emancipated' you in any way?"

"Hell no," she answered. "I was always panicked about you kids. It was a relief when the meal was over and neither one of you had lost a face."

I asked her if fondue was at least an easy clean-up. She said, "The dishes were okay, but the bitch was always cleaning the light fixture over the table."

"Then why," I inquired, "did you fix fondue for us at all?"

"Well, your father liked it. He used to beg for it."

Now, I know my father. He doesn't like anything. I asked my mother why she thought he enjoyed fondue, of all things.

"I don't know… it may have been all that sirloin. You know, 'Me caveman?'"

And then she giggled, because she had made a transgressive joke at his expense.

I love my mother.

Mom's Fondue

(serves 4)

1 1/2 lb. sirloin steak, cut into 1 inch cubes

Marinade this to room temperature in:

1/4 cup red wine

1/4 cup pineapple juice

1/2 cup soy sauce

2 tablespoons lemon juice

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 green onion, minced

2 cloves garlic, minced

Salt and pepper to taste

Heat oil in half-filled capacity fondue pot to 425_.

Spear meat onto fondue fork; fry in hot oil to desired doneness. Enjoy! Happy New Year!

Caribou Café, 1126 Walnut St., 625-9535.

The Five Spot, 5 Bank St., 574-0070.

Husch, 301 Woodbine Avenue, Narberth, (610) 668-6393.

The Melting Pot, 8229 Germantown Ave., 242-3003.