Japanese Fondue

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The Japanese diet is one of the healthiest and freshest in the world, lacking any dish as gooey, fatty, decadent and distinctively pungent as the Swiss cheese fondue that I and my Swiss relatives so enjoy.  Keep this in mind the next time you sit 10 Japanese business executives down to a table at the oldest, most renowned fondue restaurant in Bern, on a street where scents of well-aged cheeses waft from cellars and fill the Alpine air.  This aromatic atmosphere prickled the noses and throats of my dad’s customers, and soon enough, one of them lost it, and then another, until the entire table erupted in a biological chain reaction.  Embarrassing at the time, all involved retold and laughed about the story for years.  On that appetizing note, here is my recipe for Swiss fondue, marking what is probably the first recipe introduction with a story about how when a group of people barely got a whiff of it, they lost a week’s worth of breakfast.
La Fondue
(easy; 5 minutes; serves 2)

1 lbs. Gruyere and Emmentaler cheeses, shredded (mixed bag usually available at Trader Joe’s or Whole Foods)
2 garlic cloves, whole and peeled
1 cup dry white wine (sauvignon blanc or pinot grigio)
1 tbsp. brandy
1 tbsp. lemon juice
1 tbsp. dry ground mustard
Pinch or two nutmeg
Coarse ground black pepper to taste
1 baguette, cubed

Set fondue pot to medium heat. Rub inside of pot with two garlic cloves; I leave cloves in for more flavor (and eat the cooked garlic with the bread and cheese at the end!), but discard if you prefer.  Add wine and lemon juice (do NOT add more than 1 cup of vino).  When liquid simmers, gradually stir in cheese to melt evenly.  When all cheese is smooth, stir in brandy, mustard, nutmeg and black pepper.  Dip bread cubes into fondue, banish above story from your memory, and enjoy.

“What the hell is a guy like me doing in a place like this?”

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From the wise old age of nine, my dad was on the go.  To see what life was like beyond a one-bedroom house of 12, he cruised the West Side streets of Chicago on his bike, running bets hidden in produce deliveries to blue-haired ladies, for a bookie-fronting-as-neighborhood-grocer.  Later, he took his first job that promised “just a little” travel, and over the years found himself in Japan, Kuwait, Brazil, Italy, Taiwan, South Africa, Denmark, Israel, Indonesia and more than a few other places.  He didn’t just conduct business in a corporate office and leave.  He slept in tree houses, accepted invitations into family homes, made friends and learned the culture.  And with the culture, came the food.

There were snake guts, big game meats, live shrimp, dead shrimp, poisonous puffers, and in my opinion, way too many things that could have killed him.  My dad brought these stories home to our kitchen table, but thankfully, not too many of the recipes.  Any good meal needs a good story, though, so here I’ll share my dad’s (and my) favorites of both.