26 - Week 4 3ieme: Royale with Cheese - Geneve

 Wednesday, March 19

And thus marks the halfway point of my work window.  It was a quiet day with just a few English meetings that I mostly listened in on.  I got to learn a bit more about one of my coworkers that I've known for some time but never got around to getting to know.  

It's interesting to take the train home, you never know who else from work will sit down next to you.  Yesterday, it was a woman from the planning department and today it was my expat buddy again 😂 I'd been thinking of dining out tonight and all I could think of was the place yesterday's train buddy had insisted I try and give an American opinion on.  

The place is called Black Tap and is situated in the Rive quarter of Geneva.  She said that the place has the *best* milkshakes and was dying to know if an American concurred.  I normally try to avoid American fare while abroad, but I'll put this entry in as research and cultural exchange 😂 

I ended up seated right next to the milkshake station and had the privilege of seeing the shake creations as they came out.  These machines were fairly quiet and I chuckled to myself seeing the cartons labeled 

Milk

Lait

Milch

 

I ordered the cake shake with the intention of eating in the traditional manner of drinking my milkshake over the course of the meal.  The name had made me think of the chocolate cake shake at Portillo's in Chicago, where a whole slice of chocolate cake is partially blended into your shake whilst the rest remains at the bottom of the glass: in this case, it was birthday cake and featured front and center of the treat.  The fact that the waiter brought me an extra plate to actually be able to eat the cake was the cherry on top of the cake (the francophones say the cherry on top of the cake as opposed to simply "the cherry on top").  

What does it mean to eat American?  As a compromise with myself, I ordered the Swiss burger, though this one varied from the typical " American" version: instead of mushrooms and Swiss/emmental cheese, this one featured a fried soft cheese, shreds of bresao (dried beef shavings), and arugala with a vinaigrette.  I was genuinely pleased with my dish, no regrets until I had to contend with being uncomfortably stuffed afterwards 😋

I don't know if it's cliché to say this, but it felt like I was in a NYC burger joint: attempting to go viral on Instagram with crazy dishes but at the same time it all felt so authentic.  It was a sublime experience and I found myself managing a grin between bites while reflecting on this cultural mirror: the restaurant held the mirror up to me and I liked what I saw.  Perhaps the American spirit answers when one assembles the proper materials for the ritual or maybe it's something else.  

If I had to attempt to put my finger on it, I'd say it was the playful audacity of the meal: yes, the burger is taller than your mouth, the cheese is deep fried, the fries are overflowing, and the shake comes with a comically large slice of cake *on top* of the glass.  "So, what're you going to do about?"  

This is all a roundabout way to say that if any Americans get a hankering for some food from home, check out Black Tap rather than the golden arches.  I'll be sure to let my colleague know that I'd had my Ratatouille moment.  And the meal had a NYC-esque price tag to boot 😆

Aside from dinner, the rest of the night was for packing my suitcase.  So I took my time walking home (I needed some time to let all that food settle) and enjoying the night air before breaking out the suitcase and throwing the snow gear inside.  I haven't decided if I'll partake in skiing or snowshoeing at the Matterhorn this weekend, I still have time to research and decide.  For now, I've got some hydrogenated fats that need reflecting upon.