It’s a very important conversation, actually, this back and forth about what type of vegetable we’d be and why. Entire careers rest on exactly how one responds to such an inquiry, and that is precisely what Nathalie, Alix, and Morgane and I debate this evening and right now, Alix is somewhat at odds with her mother’s very practical response.
The fondue pot goes to empty, signaling the making of the religieuse–the slightly burnt remains of emmenthaler and Gouda and whatever else makes a cheese fondue so delectable that our waiter scrapes together and presents like a piece of hot, yellow plastic, salty yumminess–and I crunch on one of the remaining slices of viande seché and malakoffs, more Swiss specialities.
Tonight, we are at Café du Soleil, a warm welcome to quintessential mountain cuisine, and my family acts as my sounding board for future job interview questions. My extended stay in Switzerland is, after all, intended to carry double, if not triple, duty.
Translation, Gwendo needs a job.
It’s a serious quest, this mock career dinner, one made all the more ridiculous when we find out that the best item to bring to a deserted island is not a knife, a mirror, a man, or a rope, but a boat full of fuel.