Preserving the Sacred Rituals of Fondue
Cheese fondue is a classic sharing dish -- the rituals are the most important part, and they are simple to emulate in a vegan world...even if you're not planning to jump into a snowbank.
Recreating vegan variations of recipes is often more about honoring the rituals that supplement the food and less about creating tastes and textures.
Food experiences are physical, mental, and cultural. How we taste and enjoy our food involves more than satisfying bodily urges and impulses. Shared experiences and social practices become part of the equation.
I’ve learned that true food pleasures are influenced by our conceptual framing and narratives...elements that are directly linked to rituals. Let’s consider fondue...the traditional alpine variation of melted cheese, bread or steamed potato pieces, long dipping forks, alcohol, and friends – the more, the better.
Many, of course, will think of fondue from a sensory perspective. The thickness of overwhelming cheesy aromas hanging in the air and blurring the distinction between disgust and wow-that-smells-enticing. Others might recall a wonderful ski trip to the Alps during a cold February 10 years earlier – a memory worth spending time with. A few might even crave the simplicity of dipping their bread into a caquelon of bubbling cheese.
I have those wonderful memories of fondue parties in the Alps with good friends, and I cherish them whenever the weather turns cold. But as the years relentlessly move along life’s timeline, I think more about the rituals of a fondue party than the actual cheese experience...and fondue rituals, as I found out, are much more involved than dipping bread or steamed potatoes into a pot of melted cheese.
Act One – Setting the Stage
I found myself in Bergün, Switzerland, with my girlfriend (now wife) and 4 other Swiss friends. It was Christmas in 1999, and the setting was as you might imagine – deep snow, an old village with narrow streets, clanging bells from cows that echoed from the stalls in and around town, a large community tree near the church, and hundreds moving in different directions carrying skis or sleds.
The main focal point for sledders was always the train station. This is where people gathered in the cold mountain air to wait for the next train to haul them up the mountain. It felt like a larger, more comfortable version of a gondola packed with skiers. Everyone seemed happy. Smiles and excited conversations filled the packed train car. I was nervous. I don’t like speed or cold, so the idea of sledding down a 6 km icy path using my feet as brakes didn’t exactly fill me with excitement.
Ultimately, I made it down the narrow road and onto the flatter terrain outside of the village where we began. The fleeting glimpses of passing underneath aqueducts, and wide-angle perspectives of alpine peaks were blurry memories. Careening into snow banks, albeit rather slow, were images that were much more focused and clear. I was happy the run was finished, and I even chatted about the experience like an excited teenager after their first drive.
I was also cold...and hungry. The stage and mood were now perfectly constructed for an alpine fondue experience.
Act Two – The Fondue
We made it back to our rented flat – an old wooden farmhouse with a narrow staircase leading up four flights to the top floor. The kitchen was small, with an angled ceiling and one window about the size of a modern computer screen. Outside on the wide ledge, were several bottles of Swiss white wine – a convenient place to chill our drinks. The stove was electric – perhaps a relic from the 1970s. The corner of the kitchen had a built-in round wooden table with bench seating fitted on three sides. It was a cozy space to prepare and enjoy a meal for six.
The authentic setting felt perfect for enjoying fondue with friends...and part of the fun was everyone pitching in to prepare our meal.
The salad was washed. Small potatoes were steamed. Bread -- fresh from the bakery across the street, was cut into small cubes. Grated cheese -- a unique mixture from the cheese shop next to the bakery -- went into a pot to slowly melt.
The wine was opened -- some of it for the fondue, but most of it for our enjoyment. Little shots of Kirsch were placed on the table.
The caquelon was sat in the center of the table. The candle underneath was lit. The aroma of melted cheese hung in the air as thick as smoke from a campfire. “Zum Wohl” was on repeat as everyone grabbed a shot of Kirsch and gleeful toasts made their way around the table.
At last, we were ready to indulge. Potato pieces and bread cubes were pierced onto thin fondue forks. The first dippings emerged from the pot, with forks expertly twirling the stringy bits of cheese around the bread or potato pieces. There were audible sounds of joy...and then...I pulled my fork out of the cheese to see that my piece of bread had fallen off. This was a major infraction in the world of fondue.
Everyone laughed. I was informed of my penalty – a shot of kirsch, which I dutifully downed. That wasn’t so bad, but then we began to discuss the rules of engagement going forward. As I just found out, the first infraction was a shot of Kirsch. The second infraction was much more serious – stripping off an article of clothing. Suddenly, I found myself in a serious game of strip fondue. Repeated violations ultimately led to a trip down the staircase and a dive into a snowbank wearing nearly nothing...and, of course, another shot of Kirsch.
I’m still not sure if the strip version of fondue is officially sanctioned, or perhaps my Swiss friends were testing my gullible nature. Nevertheless, I made sure my fork never emerged from the pot without something on it for the remainder of that evening.
Act Three – The Closing
Eventually, we managed to close in on finishing the fondue without anyone having to strip or jump into a pile of snow. We could see the golden crust of cheese forming on the bottom of the pot. La réligieuse, as the crusty bit is known, is the special grand finale. It’s the closing act – the last chance to indulge in one more ritual – to scrape the bottom of the pot and release the crusty cheese formation that some say looks like a nun’s cap.
Watching my friends scrape the last bits of cheese from the pot, I realized how deeply these rituals had etched themselves into my culinary soul. Like countless others involving shared food experiences, that memory taught me something valuable: recreating traditional recipes isn't just about matching flavors and textures – it's about honoring the rituals that make these experiences memorable.
Act Four – Vegan Transformation
When I began developing a vegan interpretation of fondue, I focused first on preserving these cherished traditions. The warm glow of the caquelon's flame still dances beneath the pot, creating that familiar anticipatory warmth. The forks still clink musically against the ceramic, while eager hands reach across the table in that timeless communal choreography.
But I also needed to address the sensory aspects. Through extensive experimentation, I discovered that when properly prepared, cauliflower transforms into a silky-smooth base that coats the back of a spoon – a base I used in creating my Macaroni and 'Cheese' Gratin. The kitchen fills with an earthy aroma as nutritional yeast and yeast extract work their magic, creating those deep, umami-rich notes reminiscent of aging cheese in alpine cave cellars.
And here's my favorite technique: using tapioca starch to create that iconic stringiness that makes fondue both challenging and entertaining.
Unlike many vegan fondue recipes that rely heavily on processed cheese alternatives or complicated ingredient lists, my approach begins with the rituals and works backward. The tofu crust – my solution for recreating that coveted crusty bottom – exemplifies this philosophy. Simple, whole ingredients like cauliflower, nutritional yeast, and oat cream create a lighter yet satisfying base that doesn't mask itself in excess fat or artificial additives. It's honest cooking that respects both tradition and health without compromising on the communal joy that makes fondue special.
The dipping options remain gloriously diverse. Crusty bread cubes are classic, but I've found that steamed potato wedges, mushrooms (particularly king oysters), and pickled gherkins create exciting flavor combinations. Blanched vegetables – from asparagus to Brussels sprouts – work beautifully, and allow space for seasonal variations.
The beverage pairings maintain tradition: a dry Swiss white wine (though any crisp white wine will do), shots of kirsch for those embracing the full alpine experience, and hot black tea – which, as any fondue aficionado will tell you, aids digestion and prevents the fondue from forming a heavy mass in your stomach...although that’s less of a concern in the vegan world.
Now, about that crusty bottom -- la réligieuse. My twist involves grated tofu, seasoned and gently crisped until it releases that nutty aroma that signals perfect browning. Placed in the pot before adding the fondue, the crusty base silently sits on the pot’s bottom and waits to be discovered by probing forks. As conversations flow, this layer transforms into a golden crust that crackles pleasantly, rivaling its traditional counterpart with a satisfying crunch that marks the perfect end to the meal.
The beauty of this interpretation lies not in perfectly replicating the original, but in creating something that honors its spirit while forging its own identity. When I serve this fondue to vegan and non–vegan friends, the conversations flow, laughter fills the room, and the rituals remain intact.
Ultimately, the magic of fondue never really resided in the cheese – it lived in the shared experience, the warmth of gathering, and perhaps even in the occasional penalty for dropping your bread.
Just keep your snow boots handy, just in case.
Cauliflower Fondue
This creamy vegan fondue uses cauliflower as the main ingredient and 'cheesy' enhancements that create a satisfying interpretation that honors tradition while embracing innovation.
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What are your favorite food rituals?
Food rituals shape our memories and connections in ways that transcend the actual ingredients. Whether it's your grandmother's secret way of folding dumplings, a special birthday breakfast tradition, or your own fondue penalties, these moments define our relationship with food and each other. What food rituals bring you joy? Have you adapted any traditional dishes to align with your current lifestyle while keeping the spirit of the original intact? Share your stories below – I'd love to hear how you honor both tradition and innovation in your kitchen.
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Something to think about...
As we navigate the evolving landscape of food traditions, I'm drawn to these words from Marcus Aurelius (Meditations):
"Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart."
Like a well-prepared fondue, life's pleasures often come not from clinging to unchangeable traditions, but from embracing transformation while preserving the heart of what matters most – our connections with each other.
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Wow, right down the memory lane, beaming me back to that great evening. When I remember correctly, you had to down more than one shot of Kirsch, or was it me? I fully enjoy your vegan version…
Love the picture you painted, makes me want to make fondue asap, especially since it's FRIGID where I live right now.