Association

• Berner René

• Chaubert Michel

• Dif Richard

• Dousse Jean-Paul

• Duvernay Claude

• Gicot Raymond

• Longchamp Chantal

• Ochsner Bernard

• Piguet Jean-Luc

• Wattenhofer Ursus

• Ganguillet André

• Nuti Charles

• Parcineau Christian

• Ray Roland

• Sauvain Régis

When Geneva was the home of its international soccer tournament and velodrome.

Our ancestors were above all big eaters, and quantity was more important than quality. They stuffed meat from deer, roe deer, bears, hares, pheasants, partridges, goshawks, starlings and larks into their large, indulgent stomachs, not to mention fish, the most prized of which were trout even then. This quotation from Jean-Baptiste Plantin's book "Helvetia antiqua et nova", published in 1655, is highly revealing of our ancestors' eating habits. If the Helvetians eat and drink a lot, this is undoubtedly due to their strong stature and the harshness of the climate. In the 17th century, when the author of this work lived, the art of cooking had hardly evolved in Switzerland, or in Geneva in particular. The standard of living was very low. While some tables were abundantly furnished, many Genevans were content with a pound of bread a day, and no other food. Various villagers were found expiring at roadside crossroads, starving to death, and the Council had sixty pounds of bread distributed to twelve families in Russin who were in complete destitution. In July 1628, while local workers were devouring acorns, an English ambassador in Geneva, seated in front of a well-served plate, distributed to the poor "all the bounty from his table: bread, wine and even the most delicate meats, whether or not they had been eaten" (1).

Around 1650, destitute middle-class families sent their children and servants to beg in the streets of Geneva. At the same time, some of Geneva's leading families sent food to Savoyard peasants starving at the city gates. A comforting gesture when you think back to 1602 and the antagonism between the two peoples. These few historical facts demonstrate that gastronomy was not really one of the fundamental preoccupations of our predecessors, who were much more concerned with eating their fill, or even eating copiously, than with seeking finesse and delicacy in the dishes they ate. In neighboring France, however, and in Italy too, culinary traditions had existed for several centuries, even if the standard of living was no higher. The torch of gastronomy was undoubtedly held by the Italian cooks already esteemed in the Middle Ages, along with the artists and poets of the day. In the 16th century, Lyon became a gastronomic capital thanks to its chefs. France's climate and geographical location made it an ideal breeding ground for all cultures, and the culinary arts developed rapidly. Naturally, it was the wealthy classes, the nobility and the bourgeoisie, who consumed these fine dishes "with light sauces, which a dash of lemon or vinegar was enough to spice up", as described by F.P. de la Varenne in 1651 (2). However, even in the 18th century, there was no such thing as a gastronomic guide. Cooking, health and market almanacs published recipes and dietary precepts, but echoes of the feasts given by the great princes were nowhere to be found. Finally, in 1873, an event marked the history of gastronomy. A few members of the French intelligentsia received an invitation to a grand dinner. The missive was worded like an announcement letter: "You are requested to attend the convoy and burial of a gueuleton to be given by Messire Alexandre-Balthasar-Laurent Guimod de la Reynière, écuyer, avocat du parlement, correspondent for his dramatic homeland of the Neuchâtel newspaper, in his house on the Champs-Elysées". (3) Twenty-two guests accepted the invitation, including two women dressed as men. As they pass through a room draped in black, a theatrical curtain rises to reveal the feasting room. In the middle of the table is a catafalque. The meal consists of nine courses. Surrounding the guests is a gallery, as in a theater, where some 300 people stroll to witness this extraordinary spectacle. It was towards the end of the 18th century that the link between cuisine and literature was established. Eating well became the subject of discourse. Gastronomic guides appeared in France. During the Revolution, a large number of nobles were imprisoned, and took advantage of their last hours on earth to treat themselves to delicacies in the depths of their cells: "In the prisons, the victims sacrificed to their stomachs, and the narrow wicket saw the most exquisite meats pass by for men who were approaching their last meals and who were not unaware of it. From the depths of a dungeon, a treaty was drawn up with a restaurant, and the articles were signed on both sides, with special agreements for primeurs. A prisoner was never visited without the consolation of a bottle of Bordeaux, island liqueurs and the most delicate pâté. For his part, the pastry chef, who knows full well that the mouth is always open, would bring his cards down to the bottom of the prisons."(4) During the Revolution, the nobles were killed, the great houses dispersed and with them all the staff, numerous as it should be. So what became of these cooks and pastry chefs? Many of them were spared, and went on to open bistros and restaurants all over the country for the new citizens. One of them will play an important role. He was a certain Germain Chevet, a horticulturist loyal to Marie-Antoinette, whose roses he supplied. Arrested in 1793, the man owed his salvation to his seventeen children. Forbidden to practice his trade, he went to Paris to open a shop. He began by making small pâtés, then went on to sell superb fruit, shellfish and fish of all kinds.

Anières.

The finest and rarest products are found here. Germain Chevet went one step further, opening a school where the masters of 19th-century cuisine were his pupils. These included Carême, Bernard and the famous Gouffé, humorously cited as the greatest cook of his century by Boris Vian in "L'Écume des Jours."

Another great leader of this period was Alexis Soyer. He was one of the first to understand the fundamental role that communication had to play: "Advertising is like the air we breathe; without it, our death is certain. (5) It was also he who encouraged his colleagues to become chef-managers. At the same time, people's tastes were becoming more refined, even if quantity remained a predominant value. A good example of this is the menu for a dinner given by arch-chancellor Cambacérès to twenty-four guests, cited by Grimod de la Reynière as a model of the art (6):

Premier service:
- Quatre potages
- Quatres relevés de potages
- Douze entrées

Second service:
- Quatre grosses pièces
- Quatre plats de rôts
- Huit entremets

Bismarck would certainly not have disdained this pantagruelian meal! In the "Journal des cafetiers" of September 1, 1898, the year of his death, reference is made to his reputation as a big eater, swallowing eleven hard-boiled eggs in a row without remorse. "L'ogre" wrote to his wife in 1859: "By the way, the aforementioned tea I just drank also consisted of coffee, six eggs, three kinds of meat, cakes and a bottle of claret." He was also a heavy drinker, writing to Madame Bismarck on July 19, 1862: "Yesterday I made a charming excursion to the Médoc, with our consul and a general. I drank 'au pressoir', as they say in the country, laffite, pichon, mouton, latour, margaux, saint-juline, brame, latoze, armaillac and other wines. We have 30 degrees in the shade and 55 in the sun, but you don't think about that when you've got good wine in your body." Geneva seems to be no exception to the rule of eating "well". As early as 1798, the first specifically local cookbook appeared. This work, entitled "La cuisine genevoise", brought together ancestral recipes methodically classified by category. Typical regional dishes such as levraut à la Suissesse, veal milcanton, local vegetables and Savoy cookies were already included. Numerous editions of this cookbook were published throughout the 19th century. In the 1817 edition, the author (who remains unknown) addresses himself "to young cooks who want to push themselves for meals that are a little fancy, as well as for bourgeois tables." In his foreword, he already acknowledges the influence of French cuisine on Genevan cooking. "Almost everywhere, French cuisine prevails, and although we do not use French cooks in our city, it is nevertheless indubitable, given the neighborhood, that our cooks owe them much of their knowledge." But he hastens to add. "It must even have been seen outside that (our cuisine) could count for something, since it's so frequent to see requests from abroad for a Genevan cook who has served in good houses." Towards the end of the 19th century, the menus posted on the doors of Geneva restaurants testify to an appetite worthy of Bismarck. Here's an 1882 menu offered to customers of a first-rate establishment, for the price of 6 francs: - Consommé aux noques à la Genevoise - Lake trout with hollandaise sauce - Pommes nature - Contre-filet à la Richelieu - Timbale de ris d'agneaux - Petit pois à la bourgeoise Roast duckling: - Salade verte - Glaces panachées - Bisquit gênais - Fromage-Fruits Gastronomic guides would appear a little later, however. The first "guide" worthy of the name appeared in 1932 at a price of 1 franc 30 each. It dealt exhaustively with the city's various establishments. As State Councillor Antoine Bron, in charge of the Department of Commerce and Industry, pointed out in a letter to the authors of the brochure: "We are delighted to see this publication, which is obviously lacking. This guide will help those who are not yet familiar with it to appreciate the products of Geneva's cuisine, which is one of the best in the world, but unfortunately too little known." There was no shortage of restaurants in Geneva at the time. The guide lists 113 in the city and 91 in the surrounding countryside. It cites a few good cooks: Madame Duvoisin at the Café de l'Hôtel-de-Ville, head chef Tosello at the Restaurant de l'Arquebuse, Monsieur Péroni at the Hôtel du Simplon. But none of the big names really made their mark on Geneva cuisine. Not so in neighboring France. Georges Auguste Escoffier, César Ritz's companion, dominated the mid-20th century, fundamentally changing the laws of gastronomy and the status of the chef. Unfortunately, he erred on the side of excess: his overly dictatorial attitude and dogmatic vision prevented him from making any emulators. It was not until Edouard Nignon, André Pic, Alexandre Dumaine and Fernand Point that this culinary giant was challenged by his seemingly immutable concepts. But it was already the 1950s. The Lyonnais team was born, led by Fernand Point and his pupils: Thuillier, Outhier, Bocuse, Chapel and the Troisgros brothers. Other names were to become famous: Charles Barrier in Tours, Haeberlin in Illaensern, Roger Vergé in Mougins. What all these chefs had in common was a quest for simplicity and finesse. 1961 will go down in the history of Geneva gastronomy. That was the year Jacques Lacombe arrived in the city of Calvin. After learning his trade in Annecy, and frequenting the palaces of Marrakech, Saint-Moritz, Aix-les-Bains and Paris, he gained recognition from the chefs of Lyon. The Bernese Jean-Emile Schild called him to Switzerland to take charge of the restaurant at Parc des Eaux-Vives. Within five years, this establishment had regained a solid reputation. Jacques Lacombe again followed Jean-Emile Schild to the Buffet de la Gare, which he left in 1969 to take up residence at "L'Auberge du Lion d'Or" in Cologny. Following in the footsteps of Paul Bocuse, who often said: "Give the kitchen back to the cooks" (5), Jacques Lacombe became chef-patron. For the next five years, the Colognote restaurant would be a gastronomic center known far beyond Switzerland's borders. Surrounded by an exceptional brigade, including Louis Pelletier, Daniel Ficht and Jean-Paul Goddard, the Cologny giant was promoted to the ranks of the very greatest chefs, on a par with his French colleagues. Numerous stars, toques and other distinctions crowned his success. He died at the height of his fame, on November 3 1974, at the wheel of his car. Raoul Riesen wrote in "La Suisse": "It's Rabelais killed by the machine. Jacques Lacombe's powerful silhouette has disappeared, but his talents will undoubtedly be perpetuated by those who were until now in his shadow." The journalist was right. The owner of the "Auberge du Lion d'Or" created a reputation for Geneva gastronomy that has not diminished since. Gastronomic columnists have flourished. Philippe Gindraux launched the movement in the 1960s, writing several reviews for various newspapers and publishing "Les bonnes adresses de Genève" (Geneva's best addresses) in 1973, published by Bonvent. A work that heralded the modern guidebooks we know today. Other journalists helped to promote good food and wine knowledge: Catherine Michel on French-speaking radio, Patrice Pottier of "La Tribune de Genève" and "Gault et Millau", the Max brothers of "La Suisse", France Badel of "Le Journal de Genève", Alain Giraud of "La Tribune de Genève", Jean Lamotte of the French regional press, René Gessler of "Plaisirs Gastronomie", Jacques Souvairan... For their part, chefs rose to the challenge presented by the death of Jacques Lacombe. Many talents "exploded": Jean-Paul Goddard, Louis Pelletier, Gérard Bouilloux, Gérard Le Bouhec, Ahmed Rebzani, Michel Bonneau, Daniel Ficht, Henri Large, Roberto Ruprecht and later Jean-Marie Claudel, Jean Oberson, René Fracheboud, Bernard Livron and many others... A long culinary tradition was born. A new cuisine too, characterized by lightness, purity, simplicity and naturalness. We're a long way from the buttery cuisine praised by food critics at the turn of the century. More concerned with keeping their figure than finding their daily bread ration, today's Genevans can satisfy all their tastes in veritable "temples" of gastronomy. And a new trend is already underway: the return of local cuisine. The show is truly permanent on our tables. (1) Piuz Anne-Marie, "A Genève et autour de Genève aux XVIIe et XVIII siècles", Ed Payot, Lausanne, 1985. (2) Quoted in Raoul Riesen. "Gastronomie, comment Genève devint gourmande", Dossiers Publics, Geneva, July-August 1983. (3) Aron Jean-Paul , "Le mangeur du XIXe siècle", Robert Laffont, Paris, 1973. (4) Ibid. (5) Quoted by Raoul Riesen, op cit. (6) Aron Jean-Paul, op cit. (7) La cuisinière genevoise en 1817, Ed Slatkine, Geneva, 1977.

It's not just bistro patrons who have become famous, some establishments have also acquired an international reputation. The "Bavaria" brewery, frequented by the greats of the League of Nations, was world-famous. The operators of this historic establishment transformed it into the "Relais de l'entrecôte". An economically beneficial metamorphosis. So much for history with a capital H. It's impossible to list all the famous establishments in our republic, so let's just mention a few. "Le Landolt" is surely Geneva's best-known bistro, thanks to one of its customers, Lenin. In May 1986, Lyudmila Vinogradova, one of the USSR founder's historians, again came to investigate Lenin's various stays in Geneva. He recounted his arrival in Geneva on January 9, 1908 in a letter to his wife," comments the biographer. No snow, but a terrible breeze. He lived in an icy room that made him feel as if he were in a coffin. He wrote a lot. Sometimes he went out to the theater, sometimes leaving the auditorium mid-show to take a walk along the lake. Lenin liked to immerse himself in the local climate, which helped him to understand the world of work. That's why he frequented bistros such as "Le Lan doit". He left Geneva on December 12, 1908."

The Macfone bridge at the time of the League of Nations.

For Genevans, "Le Landolt" is above all the university annex. In fact, the former owner, Francis Longchamp, used to tell students: "Everything you know, you learned from me! There was some truth in that. The students engraved their names on the tables. One of them, in fact, bore an inscription by Lenin, but it now adorns the Zofingen students' room.

In the background of the "Landolt", State Councillor André Chavanne can be seen with his arms raised (Collection Francis Longchamp).

In September 1979, "Le Landolt" was exiled for a time to a barracks in the Parc des Bastions, to allow reconstruction of the old building on rue de Candolle. Georges Gros, alias le saute-ruisseau, recounted this adventure in "Le Courrier": "The move was in full swing. Around one o'clock in the morning, Francis Longchamp couldn't stand it any longer and returned to the old premises for a friendly look. Three men, hard at work, had preceded him. How," he thought, "the movers are still here. Ah! the good people!" And, daringly, he fetched some wine and four garnished plates. We drank the future "Landolt" and ate heartily. At around 2:30 am, the movers expressed a desire to leave with their truck, in order to get some rest. Francis Longchamp watched them drive off with a tender smile. But what he didn't know was that there was a lot of his stuff in that vehicle. He had just treated his own burglars royally." After reigning supreme for twenty-one years, Francis Longchamp also left "Le Landolt" in 1979. Since then, the establishment, owned by the Cardinal brewery, has seen a variety of fortunes. Sign of the times: Môvenpick has taken up the challenge.

Francis Longchamp before his move.

"L'Auberge des Grottes" painted by Eugène Delétraz. Ferdinand Hodler was a frequent visitor.

If there are restaurants that are typically Genevan, it's the public establishments that are the headquarters of patriotic societies. The "Vieux Grenadiers" circle is well worth a detour, or better still, a trip. We accompanied the descendants of Napoleon's "grognards" to Ireland for St. Patrick's Day in March 1979. Saturday, March 17th. Early rise and Anglo-Saxon breakfast, with egg, ham, tea and... for some. We set off for Dublin, where a large parade was to take place to celebrate the country's national holiday. The crowds were there, but so was the snow. A terrible wind was bending the furry caps of the proud grenadiers. Many of the martial-looking soldiers were thinking of the long johns they'd forgotten in Geneva. For two hours, the Vieux Grenadiers toured Dublin, led by Commandant Marc Coppex. The next day, the Genevans made the headlines. March 18 in Limerick. The Irish and the American majorettes in the parade had eyes only for the heroes of Beresina. On the way home, comments were rife. Alain Monney informed his colleagues: "Our president Daniel Bourguignon has just bought himself an Irish cane to defend himself against the seagulls at the airport, because he's afraid they'll take him for a piece of bread. He's so small!" The Vieux Grenadiers have been collecting stories like this for decades. There are the real ones, which they live in the moment, and the others, which they arrange a little for friends. No wonder the circle of "Vieux Grenadiers" on rue de Carouge is still so lively.

Visiting only famous establishments limits your horizons considerably. Every bistro has a thousand stories to tell, which is why they all deserve a mention. Let's stop one last time, at the "Auberge des Grottes", immortalized by the painter Eugène Delétraz (1866-1957). His parents, François and Péronne Delétraz, ran this establishment. Their generosity was known throughout the neighborhood. In fact, the locals called the owner "the mother of the poor". One table in the café was reserved for the needy. A free meal always awaited the neediest.

A friend of Ferdinand Hodler and pupil of Barthélémy Menn, Eugène Delétraz recreated the warm atmosphere of his parents' bistro in his paintings. Unfortunately, this great artist did not enjoy the success he deserved. His work is scattered, but his presence remains at the "Auberge des Grottes".

Paradoxically, it's often abroad that we discover the vital role played by cafés and restaurants in our society. February 1979. It's summer in the Peruvian Andes. With Geneva architect Emilio Luisoni, we travel to Tucush, a tiny Indian village perched at an altitude of 4,000 meters. Not on foot, but on horseback, so we don't suffer from the lack of oxygen. Our mounts know the way by heart. Fortunately, the precipices make you dizzy.

Our companion wants to set up a health and education center up there. The whole village welcomes us, and then we rush into what looks like a communal inn. Emilio talks about the future center and the difficulties we'll have to overcome, not least finding the necessary funding.

The Synagogue, with boulevard Georges-Favon to its right

After the speeches, the party begins. Bottles of pisco - a type of grappa - come out of the cupboards. As is the custom, only one glass is passed around. You empty the cup handed to you by your neighbor, then fill it up and give it to someone of your choice. The Indians are very keen to honor us and are constantly serving us drinks. Pisco goes straight to the head, especially at this altitude! Two musicians set the tone with a simple drum (caja) and a flute (pincullo). The women dance the Huyano. The men, on the other hand, are more fraternal than ever, hugging us and handing us a new glass. We can't refuse.

We have no intention of turning our backs on these gestures of friendship, the human warmth of the Indians, whose ancestors were driven to the summits by the Spanish invaders, and who are fighting to survive and keep their identity. A meal is served: potatoes and guinea pig. A rather frugal meal, but a feast for these mountain people...

Our horses are waiting for us to return. All the villagers surround them. The Indians must be wondering whether the "gringos", a bit "done", will be able to pull themselves up onto their mounts. Deep down, they must be thinking that they've played a good trick on us. A little revenge on history. Suddenly, we feel like the white man being challenged by humans of another race. We grab our saddles and throw ourselves on the horses' backs. The Indians' laughter lets us know that the demonstration wasn't perfect. No matter, we didn't fall on the other side. Our honor is intact and - more importantly - this afternoon spent in the local bistro has given us a glimpse of the Indian soul.

Admiring old photos is also a form of escapism: here we are in the Cours des Bastions at the turn of the century.

Moscow-débrouille

It's also in Moscow's cafés that we discover the Soviet way of life. A Swiss arriving in the Russian capital with no knowledge of Cyrillic script feels like a Martian. Everything seems foreign, even the signs of the few public establishments escape you. A fellow journalist acted as our guide. A very "official", well-organized tour, extolling the virtues of communism.

Nevertheless, a meal in a Georgian restaurant in Moscow gave us the opportunity to discover another reality, that of Muscovites. No sooner were we seated than two young women began to argue with the waiter. The waiter led them to our side, but not before the two beauties had slipped him a small cone containing one or two beers. One of the women holds another bag from which she quickly pulls out a bottle of wine and places it on the table. Our Soviet colleague naturally overhears the scene and explains that this is a custom. People bring their drinks from home - it's cheaper than eating out - and pay the waiter a coin to close his eyes.

Our neighbors, on the other hand, look at us with insistence and end up engaging in conversation in English. As their language skills are limited, they don't bother with formulas and invite us to sample their charms. Our cerberus blushes and says a few words in Russian to his compatriots. They soon disappear.

On leaving the bistro, the guide hails a big black car. Other Soviets jump into the "official"-looking vehicle. Even more astonishing! New explanation: "It's a habit with us. When an official car returns to the garage after its shift, it picks up onlookers as it goes by. They tip the driver."

Prague-the revolt

It wasn't our first such adventure in an Eastern European country. At Easter 1967, a year before the famous Prague Spring, we found ourselves in Czechoslovakia. There seemed to be no wind of revolt blowing through the country. The Communist Party and the government seemed to have the situation well in hand. Our friends, Vera and Jan, had little to say about the regime.

An incident in a Prague cabaret should have awakened our critical faculties. We went to the Alhambra. The doorman spotted foreigners and handed them a leaflet from an agency offering day and night entertainment. Amused by this somewhat gallant advertisement, we passed it on to our friends. An usherette immediately intervened, urging Vera to return the document, "strictly reserved for foreigners". Vera refused to comply and protested curtly. A few months earlier, our friend would never have attempted to make such a remark. The Prague Spring was just around the corner...

It was another restaurant, the Shinsen-en-Heihachi in Kyoto, that made us realize, in June 1986, the gulf separating Japan from Europe. How many books we had read about the Empire of the Rising Sun! Kawabata seemed to have opened up the heart of the geisha to us. But no! After spending two hours cross-legged, Nipponese-style, in front of a geisha - splendid, but speaking only her mother tongue - we understand that Japan will forever remain a secret to the average Westerner.

Sahara-Evasion

It was always in a bistro - and this will be our last example - that we got to know the Saharawis, accompanying the mayor of Geneva in the desert of deserts, in the middle of the Sahara. In the summer of 1981, Guy-Olivier Segond visited the refugee camps, in particular to see the school desks donated by the city of Geneva. The temperature was terrible, close to 55 degrees in the shade. Didi, the Saharaoui representative in Geneva, accompanied us and was suffocating too!

After about ten hours in a jeep, we reach a camp. Here, a tent serves as a bistro. Our hosts give us a warm welcome. Guy-Olivier Segond drinks three liters of sweet milk in one go! An all-time meeting record. The first discussions get underway, but the heat is so intense that everyone takes turns dozing off. This turns into something unusual. Ministers and regional heads arrive one after the other, talk for a few minutes, then fall asleep. After a while, they wake up and resume the conversation with those who are awake. At first, the visitors try to stay awake, but the heat finally gets the better of their attention. There's nothing more amusing, and above all more captivating, than waking up and seeing, at the end of this bistro-tent, an aedile ready to converse with you.

Geneva, like any city or country, is no exception to this rule: there's nothing like visiting its cafés, restaurants and hotels to get to know it better. So many journeys can be made around a simple table. This book will attempt to prove it.

1. Customers also take certain liberties in Geneva's establishments, as noted by "Le Renquilleur", in "La Suisse" of June 10, 1982: "In a tea-room on Boulevard Saint-Georges, a typical Genevan woman sat down and asked for a glass of water. Then she opened her handbag, took out a tea bag and dipped it into her glass. Once she'd had her tea, she left peacefully, without even leaving a penny behind. The landlady was stunned."

The Société des cafetiers may be a hundred years old, but it hasn't made much of an impact on Geneva's political life, nor has it struck a chord with the general public. It took a few years for this professional organization to find its feet, and then it behaved like most employers' associations, devoting itself to branding the profession and signing collective bargaining agreements with the unions.

The general public has mostly identified it with some of its presidents. Gottlieb Blattner was at the helm for almost twenty-five years. He wanted to let go on April 10, 1945, after more than fifteen years as president, but the assembly rose as one and exclaimed: "Long live the president!" Gottlieb Blattner was only able to hand over the reins to Ernest Vincent in 1953. He served for a few months before handing over his seat to Francis Longchamp, who held it for eight years! Then came the turn of César Magnin, whose reign spanned twenty years.

"Au Rendez-Vous des Chasseurs" in Meinier

Cafe presidents seem to be irremovable, which at least favors continuity in action. The new "helmsman", Michel Jordan, who has been active since 1981, is firmly at the helm. He is "beefing up" the actions of the employers' association and has surrounded himself with a loyal team.(1)

In fact, cafe owners are a corporation that knows how to speak out when necessary. The Swiss president, Pierre Moren from Valais, sets an example. Here's an employer leader who doesn't mince his words: "If the state continues to put pressure on small and medium-sized businesses, it will end up undermining a vital part of the middle class. Our country would then lose the socio-economic balance on which our prosperity is based".

It would be unfair to reduce the union's history to that of its most influential presidents, for there is no shortage of outstanding episodes. In 1887, Geneva set up the Tir Fédéral. Cafe owners and restaurateurs also had to make sure they didn't miss the target, as good business was on the horizon. Unity is strength, which is why the food and liquids guild organizes to ensure the supply of shooters and the public.

The Helvetians, afraid of being shot at in Geneva, arrive with their "rucksacks" filled with sausages, cervelas and "landjager", which they devour over a mug or two in the canteen.

Advertising with a twist.

This episode made cafe owners and restaurateurs realize the need to stick together. That same year, they formed a society, which attracted some forty members to its general meetings. These meetings focused on the price of wine - ten sous a liter at the time - and absinthe - three sous a tall glass. Nevertheless, in 1894, a major project was born within the group. Journalist Constant Wassmer tells the story in the "Journal des cafetiers" of May 16, 1937.

"A member of the committee, Mr. Zimmermann, proposed to resume the project of a National Exhibition in Geneva, which had been discussed prior to the Tir Fédéral of 1887. Mr. Adrien Lachenal, then a national councillor, was approached, and a few weeks later, on September 2, he came to the cafetiers' meeting to congratulate them on their initiative and give them some information on the old project. Mr. Lachenal advised the cafe owners not to publicize the matter and to discuss it only with the authorities. And so it was. The following year, a committee was formed. The date of 1895 was first chosen, then 1896. But when the young society asked for an 800 m2 site to present model establishments (cellar and brasserie), the organizers demanded the hefty sum of 30,000 francs, plus a large percentage of the takings. With only a few hundred francs in the bank, the company was forced to abandon the project!

"L'International" back in the days when the Rancy circus was a fixture in Geneva.

Over the years, the price of beverages has remained one of society's major concerns. The 1930s were particularly difficult, with the devaluation of the Swiss franc in 1936. However, this measure boosted exports and tourism, and led to an upturn in the fortunes of Geneva's cafés and restaurants.

The difficult economic climate did not prevent cafe owners from taking an interest in a wide range of issues. In 1937, they deplored the disappearance of the famous "Guguss" magazine and the difficulties of the Geneva Zoo, which they felt was a real tourist attraction for the region. The society even proposed that every café owner become a member of the zoo and pay an annual subscription to save the menagerie. The scheme failed, and the zoo disappeared a few years later. Another difficult period lay ahead for the cafe owners: the war years. At the end of hostilities, the company paid 66,000 French francs to Savoy restaurant owners to help them get back on their feet. This was also the time when hundreds of American leave-holders came to Switzerland for a day of relaxation. Cafe owners agreed to serve them a 4.50 franc lunch. The committee also fights to prevent Migros from setting up shop in Geneva, as this would mean the death of small businesses. The people of Geneva also vote against the arrival of the large cooperative, but the Federal Court rules in favor of freedom of trade. The first Migras store opened on November 1, 1945.

Other fronts regularly occupy the Company: the fight against alcoholism to prevent attacks from teetotallers and preserve the trade's brand image; the allocation of days off for employees and staff wages. Cafe owners are very firm on these last two points. Not always with good reason, as many Swiss people are turning away from the restaurant business, believing working conditions to be too unfavorable. In the 1960s, the company turned things around, notably by introducing net pay. This means that the employee receives a specific sum, while the employer pays the full AVS (10% of salary), unemployment (0.6%), health and accident insurance (7.4%) and withholding tax. In addition, the employee receives a meal and accommodation allowance estimated at 555 francs. Currently, the average annual salary in the catering industry is around 32500 francs. Not one of the best incomes in the canton. However, the wage bill in the catering industry has risen enormously in recent years, from 124 million in 1980 to 240 million today, while the number of employees has only increased by around 25% over the same period.

The company also developed training, not only by setting up cafetier courses as early as 1942, but also by opening the Vieux-Bois hotel school near the Palais des Nations in 1950. In the 19th century, this former residence was home to the painter Adam Toepffer and his son, the writer Rodolphe Toepffer, a champion of cafés (3).

As the successor to the former vocational school in Neuchâtel, the "Vieux Bois" hotel school made a name for itself. The people of Geneva had to fight to keep it open, as the federation wanted to close it and the Zurich school and centralize them in Berne. César Magnin's team avoided the worst, and State Councillor Jaques Vernet favored modernization of the school in 1973. Régis Sauvain, vice-president of the syndicat patronal des cafetiers, restaurateurs et hôteliers, now oversees the smooth running of the institute. Director Siegfried Weissenberger and his wife, who have been with the school since 1978, have trained almost 300 students, all future leaders in the profession.

Cafe owners are generally very discreet about their union and its history. Nevertheless, several old anecdotes have been passed down from generation to generation. Here are two: At the end of the war, the committee was in favor of introducing a compulsory closing day for bistros. An idea supported by the king of fondue, Francis Huissoud. On the other hand, the emperor of sauerkraut, Clovis Jordan, fulminated against his committee. He circulated a petition against the compulsory closure of cafés. Collecting signatures was no problem, as Clovis Jordan paid a canvasser to do the job. In the end, the sauerkraut emperor triumphed.

His son, Michel Jordan, was less fortunate in 1969, when the battle over service included tore the café owners' association apart. President César Magnin, supported in particular by Jean Schild of Buffet de la Gare, championed the idea of inclusive service: "It will simplify accounts and clarify customers' bills. Gaston Ferrero from Café du Grand Pré, Armand Dumoulin from Cave Valaisanne and the owner of L'International opposed the measure, believing that tipping was the best way to mobilize staff. "If 15% of service is counted in advance," they said, "employees won't make any particular effort to serve customers." In the end, César Magnin prevailed, and the losers are the first to admit today that the introduction of service inclusive did not have the harmful effects predicted. And - the perfidy of time - despite the service included, a good proportion of customers still give a small tip to show their satisfaction when they are well served! History repeats itself!

The "Restaurant de la Tour du Bois de la Bâtie". Before the advent of the car and the economic boom of the 1960s, this was a favorite strolling spot for Geneva families. They would come to admire the view, then see the animals in the Bois de la Bâtie enclosure, before going to eat a Bâle boule garnie at the nearby "Brasserie Tivoli".

(1) In addition to President Michel Jordan, the cantonal committee is made up of Régis Sauvain, first vice-president, Armand Baechler, second vice-president, René Berner, secretary, Jean-Luc Piguet, vice-secretary, Georges Renaud, treasurer, Jean-Paul Dousse, Charles Barraud, Michel Chaubert, Reto Decurtins, Richard Dif, Marcel Fluckiger, Jean-Marie Gaist, Francis Longchamp , Gérard Muller, Jean Muller, Otto Soltermann, Victor Viret, Jean Kàech, Jean-Pierre Kopp and Eric Schenkel. René Jacquenoud, the company's secretary for twenty-two years, also deserves a special mention.

(2) "La Suisse", Pierre Moren gets angry. "L'Etat va tuer la classe moyenne", Geneva, June 29 1983.

(3) «Notre école professionnelle chez Monsieur Vieux-Bois», in «Journal de cafetiers» du 15 janvier 1950.

Âme des Cafés, it's this true life, I confess, that I've always sensed in you. Just as I have sensed, under the cloak of time, of the everyday, that which escapes time, the everyday; and which we call, in desperation, eternity. In you, finally, that through their murderous madness or their mad need for communion; their aspirations to freedom or their veiled addiction to slavery, I have entered into a relationship, better than anywhere else, with men. And, beyond them, with the great Tree of Man. And its heart. In a state of permanent agony, and no less permanent self-genesis. All this perceptible, as the hours go by, while a man, between two ages, simply lifts a glass to his lips; daydreams in a corner, or talks on the terrace with a friend; and suddenly, as evening approaches, the bells of the neighborhood ring out, unheard by all, yet faithful. Drowning out the sound of the fountain. And that's why, humble and terrible cafés, mirror, for me, of the human condition, and perfect inspirers in poetry, against all those who despise you, I give you thanks here. And salute you." (1)

This hymn by Georges Haldas, the modern cantor of Geneva's bistros, sums up in a few lines the very essence of life in this place. Today's nostalgic Genevans dream of the bistros of yesteryear, sacrificed to banks and offices of all kinds, because in their memories they evoked precisely that communion, that communication of which the author of "La légende des cafés" speaks.

Le rondeau de Carouge.

And yet, even if the list of defunct cafés grows longer every year, there are still some 1,400 establishments in our canton today. Fast-food outlets are flourishing, but they remain marginal in Geneva. Other establishments still retain the essence of poetry. Here, thirsty strollers on hot summer days or chilled onlookers from our harsh winters stop by.

People go to cafés for many other reasons. Railway station buffets are home to a whole population of people who like to wait and kill time over a drink. The city's bistros sometimes serve as rest stops for busy passers-by, or those exhausted from shopping in department stores. A meeting place par excellence, couples of all ages gather here. Sometimes following a chance encounter on the street, sometimes to hide from prying eyes.

At certain times of the day and night, the café suddenly fills up for a short time. Groups, often from different social backgrounds, punctuate the day in these establishments. What they have in common is that they are all time-bound, feverish and preoccupied, and that their presence in the café is sometimes no more than an appearance. Still immersed in their work, they don't fully participate in the life of the bistro. At the opening, the early-morning workers crowd in, those who have finished their night's work and those who are getting ready to start their day. At coffee break time, employees and schoolchildren invade. Some take the opportunity to peruse the day's newspapers, and a few quick discussions take place on current affairs. Then it's time for the dish of the day, and towards evening, more customers flock in: various shows await them, and they hastily gobble down a cold plate and a drink of some kind.

In today's cafés, it's striking to see the extent to which this restless crowd, "stressed" by modern life, contrasts with an entirely different type of population for whom time is, on the contrary, lengthening and sometimes dragging on. Coming to the bistro "passes the time", say some of the elderly, who meet there to play cards or read the paper. Young people, on the other hand, spend hours in front of the pinball machines and slot machines. While some customers peruse periodicals on a daily basis, others immerse themselves in reading novels or study books. After all, public establishments can also be frequented for work purposes. Journalists, students, writers and professors sometimes monopolize café tables for hours at a time, preferring them to their overcrowded offices. The contact with an anonymous yet present crowd, the noises gradually confused and muffled, the cup of hot coffee or glass of wine, encourages concentration and creation, paradoxical as it may seem. Georges Haldas wrote most of his work in cafés, and even today we meet him almost every day at the "Or du Rhône" with pen in hand.

So there are many reasons to go to a café, some of them utilitarian, as we mentioned earlier. But beneath these overt motivations lie other more secret, sometimes unconscious ones. In our increasingly individualistic, compartmentalized society, the bistro is becoming almost the only place where exchanges between different social groups can take place, where young and retired, men and women, the underprivileged and CEOs can still rub shoulders, or even desire to meet, when they might never feel the need to do so in any other context. Baron Edmond de Rothschild, for example, regularly eats sauerkraut at the "International" brasserie.

Is the University of Geneva a branch of "Landolt", or is it the other way around?

People also come to the bistro to make up for a loneliness that grows more dramatic as the years go by, to recreate in this place the home they've lost. Confined to retirement homes or solitary apartments, some elderly people gradually lose all contact with society. In the café, they rediscover the liveliness and bustle that allow them to forget their own condition or to revive buried memories. Invisible links are established, "roots grow between the tables" (2). The bistro has "this immense advantage of making possible, of reinventing this form of communication where people can be present to each other without having to talk to each other, and above all without being embarrassed not to." (3)

Overcoming loneliness also means escaping anxiety, and in this sense, the café provides a sense of security. - On Christmas Eve, senior citizens take refuge in the "International" to celebrate the birth of Christ. It was they who requested that the brewery remain open every December 24.

If the first gesture, that of pushing open the door, provokes shyness in customers worried about other people's gaze, once they've settled into a sheltered corner, a feeling of well-being gives way to their first concern. Coffee is rich in multiple sensations. It offers itself to the eye as a closed, static space, often with a banal décor, in which a mobile population moves about, appearing and disappearing as the minutes pass. It protects us from street noise, even if other sounds fill it: bursts of voices, laughter, but also the sound of dishes, coins, the coffee machine, the juxtaposition box... Sometimes there are subtle smells, a mixture of hot chocolate, coffee and herbal teas, and sometimes more distinctive ones, such as cheese dishes, sauerkraut, stew or minestrone. Last but not least, the act of drinking is common to all café customers, and sitting down at a table means enjoying a fine wine, a beer or warming your hands with a glass of tea.

This space reassures us, because it isolates us from the street, an impression that is even stronger when night falls. Time stands still. You can finally relax, chat and listen to others. For the café is above all a place for verbal exchange. In the 18th century, the Encyclopedists were already frequenting them, and in the 19th century, the authorities tried to limit their influence by introducing a series of regulations. In the 20th century, the same political role assigned to the café continued. The bistro remains the place to be for public affairs. Men gather there to comment on events, criticize and rant. At times, conversations become animated, turning into veritable oratorical jousts. Bistro leaders have their own audience: customers, who are delighted to be part of the show. They enter the arena on occasion, and find themselves actors in their own right. Several of Geneva's cafés were witness to this ebullition of ideas. Léon Nicole frequented them, Lenin left his name engraved on a table at the "Landolt", André Chavanne held meetings at the Hôtel-de-Ville café, and in May 68, students prepared their weapons at the café du Rond-Point in Plainpalais.

History is written on the walls of cafés, walls imbued with all those lives so often recounted, all those events narrated and discussed. The ghosts of all those famous and unknown characters permeate the atmosphere. Time stands still. And dreams take hold. The mind is freed from all its constraints: the café becomes "the place where poetry is born; and the place par excellence, where every man, by talking about what happens to him, becomes a poet! With the help of wine, he and others can reach the state of poetry. The rainbow of human relationships." (4)

(1) Haldas Georges, "La Légende des cafés", L'Age d'Homme, Lausanne, 1976. Afterword.

(2) Laforge Jean-Roger, «Des cafés et des hommes», Université de Genève, p.112.

(3) Laforge Jean-Roger, op. dt. p.112.

(4) Haldas Georges, op. cit. 92

Agenda:

1.  Opening of the meeting, approval of the AGM 2023 agenda
and approval of AGM 2022 minutes

2.  Committee reports (questions and approval)

3.  Speech by Mr Denis Beausoleil, Director of OPAGE

4. Treasurer's report (questions and approval)

5. Trustee's report (questions and discharge to the Committee)

6. Address by GastroSuisse representative Gilles Meystre, President of GastroVaud

7.  Targets for 2023-2024

8. Election of Honorary Member: Mr Ursus Wattenhofer

9.  Seniority diplomas

10. Miscellaneous and individual proposals

Agenda:

1. Opening of meeting, approval of AGM 2022 agenda and approval of AGM 2021 minutes

2.  Complément si besoin, des rapports de commissions déjà approuvés à l’AG 2021 (questions et approbation sur le complément)

3. Treasurer's report (questions and approval)

4. Trustee's report (questions and discharge to the Committee)

5. ELECTIONS :

a) Candidate presentation

b) Election of the Chairman

c) Election of committee members

6.  Monitoring 2021-2022 targets

7. Seniority diplomas

8. Miscellaneous and individual proposals

Once again, theOPAGE is joining forces with the Société des Cafetiers Restaurateurs et Hôteliers de Genève to honor and congratulate students who have completed their training at the Ecole des Cafetiers by inviting them to a cocktail reception on October 10 at the Restaurant les Vieux Grenadiers.

All candidates received a bottle of wine as a welcome gift. The organizers wanted to reward the students who passed their exams with a mark above 5 with good meals at the Ambassadeurs du Terroir.

Tasting in the presence of the winemakers: www.domaineleshutins.ch and domainedescharmes.ch

Genève Terroir a eu le plaisir d’organiser en collaboration avec la Société des Cafetiers, Restaurateurs et Hôteliers de Genève une rencontre avec des vignerons genevois pour une présentation et une dégustation de leurs crus le lundi 30 octobre 2023.

The winemakers:

www.domaine-dugerdil.ch

//novelle.wine

//domaine-du-paradis.ch