Since Alphutte closed in Adelaide, the only decent Swiss Restaurant in town is this sumptuous, stylish, slurpy Swiss (even the alliteration is properly period) sanctuary from the seventies, a haven of style! Carpet! Heavy curtains! Bad art! Lovely!
Service has the deference shown by shop assistants in Jermyn Street, London (that is, über polite) but more friendly, and less formal. And of a high competence.
Back in May this year, we feasted on a fine shellfish ragout (lobster, spencer gulf prawns, scallops, with roma tomatoes and lotsa cream, white wine and puff pastry); a potato, garlic and herb tortellini, coriander and walnut salsa verde, baby beets, Persian feta and cinnamon, beurre noisette; confit of duck leg, mandarin, ginger, cardamon, lime and sweet soy glaze, salad of pickled kohlrabi, purple cabbage, endive and nashi pear; and freshly cooked barramundi, topped off with some slimming röschti, washed down with a nice champagne and some Henschke Riesling. Then we waddled into the night, sated and feeling important.
On a wintry night in July, we had a rich potato and leek soup, with sautéed Barossa smoked bacon, rich cream and chicken stock; Emmenthaler poulet (drenched in a beautiful golden cheesy sauce), crumbed, pan fried, served with hollandaise sauce and rice pilaf. What with more champagne, a load of Skillogalee Riesling from the Clare Valley, a full day’s work and the filthy weather outside, we were tempted to tarry in our lush, snug surroundings but yet again, we had to struggle home to the fireside.
Our verdict: Gutes Essen!!