Handpicked experience
Instant Confirmation
Fondue was made the national dish on purpose, promoted from the 1930s by the cheese cartel because there was surplus cheese to shift.
A tradition with a documented commercial origin
Table customs that are still genuinely enforced
A ridge that looks down the length of the lake
Chocolate bought where it is made
An outing that fits into the end of a day
A four-hour late-afternoon outing from Zurich: a shopping stop at Lindt Home of Chocolate, the cable car up to the Felsenegg ridge for the view over the lake, and the option of a cheese fondue to finish.
It feels like something Switzerland has always eaten. In its modern form it is largely the result of a marketing campaign.
Melted cheese with bread is genuinely old and genuinely alpine, but until the twentieth century it was a regional habit, not a national symbol. From the 1930s onward the Swiss Cheese Union — the cartel that controlled the country's cheese trade — set about making it one, precisely because there was surplus cheese to shift. Fondue was written into army catering, pushed through recipe leaflets and demonstrations, and promoted hard again after the Second World War.
It worked completely. Even the cheerful slogan most Swiss people can still recite came out of an advertising push in the 1980s.
None of that makes it less good. It does make it a rare case of a national tradition with a documented commercial birthday.
If you have not eaten it in company before, a few conventions are worth knowing, because they are still observed and losing track of them is the joke of the evening.
Stir in a figure of eight rather than a circle, which keeps the emulsion from separating. Keep your bread on the fork and your fork out of your mouth. Anyone who drops their bread in the pot traditionally owes something — a round of drinks, a song, or worse depending on the table.
At the bottom you will find la religieuse, a browned crust of cheese formed against the pot. It lifts out in one piece and is the best part; it is not a mistake and it is not to be left behind.
Worth being practical about this. A departure in the middle of the afternoon meets sunset comfortably in the short months and lands well before it in high summer, when the light lasts until late evening.
The ridge is worth the ride either way, and in June you will be looking at a long golden afternoon rather than a sunset. The mountain does not adjust its schedule and neither does the coach.
The cable car and the transport are covered. The chocolate stop is for the shop rather than the museum, and the fondue is an addition arranged separately.
Go knowing that and the evening lands as intended.
Felsenegg is a ridge above the lake and it is colder and windier than the city, particularly once the sun is off it. Bring a layer.
The viewing area is a short easy walk from the cable car station on made paths.
Same route either way — the difference is who else is in the vehicle. Open one to see its dates and work out the price.
What the fare covers, and what to budget for separately.
The practical detail, and the answers people actually ask for.
Melted cheese with bread is genuinely old and alpine, but its status as a national symbol was built deliberately in the twentieth century.
The Swiss Cheese Union, the cartel controlling the country's cheese trade, from the 1930s onward.
There was surplus cheese to shift, so fondue was written into army catering and pushed through leaflets and demonstrations.
It keeps the emulsion from separating, which a simple circular stir does not do as well.
Tradition says you owe something — a round of drinks, a song, or worse depending on the table.
The browned crust of cheese that forms against the pot. It lifts out in one piece and is considered the best part.
In the short months, comfortably. In high summer the light lasts until late evening, so expect a long golden afternoon instead.
No. It is an addition arranged separately, as is entry to the chocolate museum; the stop there is for the shop.