Oh, raclette. How do I even begin to talk about you? You, with your tempting ways. Your melting cheesiness. Your simple, yet oh, so delicious ways. You fiend.
Wait what? You mean... you've never heard of raclette? Oh, friend. Let me tell you.
Raclette is the name of a type of cheese. I a type of cheese that is specially for melting on foods. Traditionally, raclette is served on boiled potatoes, sliced meats and cornichons. And tradtionally, it's delicious. (As if I really had to tell you that).
While I've had raclette before (namely, Switzerland, where it originates), I've never had it quite as good and in quite as fun a place as Canna Suisse, in Cannes. This restuarant is kitsch. It's in what's meant to be an underground cave, probably maxes out at 25 seats (if that) and is full of Swiss paraphanelia - cow bells, hiking signs, you name it. You can get cheese melted in many ways at Canna and you can even get chocolate fondue, but let's face it, the real gem is the raclette.
It's really all about the presentation. You're seated at your table, wine is order and served, raclette is requested and out comes the acoutrement. A basket of potatoes hanging from the ceiling, an array of sliced meats, cornichons and pickled baby onions. Then they bring out the cheese. A giant half wheel of cheese. They stick it on a medieval looking contraption, plug it in, and off you go.
Raclette isn't really a meal for one. You can manage with two, though I'd really suggest a group of four to keep it going. It's a lot of cheese and while you're not expected to finish it, let's just say that when it comes to endless melted cheese, one's good sense (and moderation) can go quickly out the window. If you're not careful, you can end the night clutching your stomach, loosening your belt and begging to be taken to the closest bed and put to sleep for the night. Raclette is dangerous that way.
But friends, I like it danergous.
Wait what? You mean... you've never heard of raclette? Oh, friend. Let me tell you.
Raclette is the name of a type of cheese. I a type of cheese that is specially for melting on foods. Traditionally, raclette is served on boiled potatoes, sliced meats and cornichons. And tradtionally, it's delicious. (As if I really had to tell you that).
While I've had raclette before (namely, Switzerland, where it originates), I've never had it quite as good and in quite as fun a place as Canna Suisse, in Cannes. This restuarant is kitsch. It's in what's meant to be an underground cave, probably maxes out at 25 seats (if that) and is full of Swiss paraphanelia - cow bells, hiking signs, you name it. You can get cheese melted in many ways at Canna and you can even get chocolate fondue, but let's face it, the real gem is the raclette.
It's really all about the presentation. You're seated at your table, wine is order and served, raclette is requested and out comes the acoutrement. A basket of potatoes hanging from the ceiling, an array of sliced meats, cornichons and pickled baby onions. Then they bring out the cheese. A giant half wheel of cheese. They stick it on a medieval looking contraption, plug it in, and off you go.
Raclette isn't really a meal for one. You can manage with two, though I'd really suggest a group of four to keep it going. It's a lot of cheese and while you're not expected to finish it, let's just say that when it comes to endless melted cheese, one's good sense (and moderation) can go quickly out the window. If you're not careful, you can end the night clutching your stomach, loosening your belt and begging to be taken to the closest bed and put to sleep for the night. Raclette is dangerous that way.
But friends, I like it danergous.
RSS Feed
