An unusu­al duo. “We tried it with app­ren­ti­ces and with a third chef, but it works best with just the two of us,” says Noémie Bernard at Restaurant Sternen (15 points), situa­ted in a pre­mier loca­ti­on on Lake Zug in Walchwil. Together with her father Giorgio, the 33-year-old forms what is argu­ab­ly the most unusu­al culina­ry duo in the diver­se world of GaultMillau restau­rants in Switzerland. She is the chef; the expe­ri­en­ced 71-year-old cook (“I feel fit­ter now than at 50”) is respon­si­ble for the sau­cier sta­ti­on and rare­ly has objec­tions when his daugh­ter sets the direc­tion. Her mother, Anita, mana­ges the ser­vice with a clear over­view. The fact that this con­stel­la­ti­on works so har­mo­nious­ly is extra­or­di­na­ry, espe­ci­al­ly in a deman­ding indu­stry like gastro­no­my. The Bernard fami­ly has been working tog­e­ther in this arran­ge­ment sin­ce 2018, to the satis­fac­tion of ever­yo­ne involved—guests and homeow­ners alike.

A les­son in sole ana­to­my. As an intern, I am assi­gned tasks alter­na­te­ly by Noémie and Giorgio Bernard. He shows me how to prepa­re exact­ly 32 veal cheeks, which have been mari­na­ted for two days with root vege­ta­bles in red wine, then seared and final­ly brai­sed in the oven for about three hours. Afterward, I recei­ve a les­son in sole ana­to­my from her: the flat­fi­sh, fresh­ly deli­ver­ed by Bianchi, must be skin­ned and fil­le­ted. A small cut in front of the tail fin, and then the skin can be pul­led off each side with a bit of effort. An amusing detail: the side of the fish facing away from the oce­an sur­face is white, while the side facing the light is effec­tively tan­ned. With your fin­ger­tips, you can feel the cen­tral bone to sepa­ra­te one of four fil­lets from the bones with a flat, fle­xi­ble kni­fe, ide­al­ly in one smooth stro­ke. By the fifth fish, I’m doing quite well. What remains is then freed from the head with scis­sors, which is dis­po­sed of along with the oran­ge-colo­red roe. The divi­ded car­cas­ses, howe­ver, will later form the base for a sauce.

Beauty and bru­ta­li­ty. There is beau­ty in the­se steps, but also a cer­tain bru­ta­li­ty. While I cut fish ske­le­tons into pie­ces, David Foster Wallace’s essay „Consider the Lobster“ comes to mind. Upon see­ing the cru­stace­an pla­ced ali­ve into boi­ling water, the aut­hor reflects on its suf­fe­ring. At least the fish here in Walchwil do not suf­fer, and I don’t have much time for such men­tal excur­si­ons any­way; two por­ti­ons of sole must be ser­ved during the ongo­ing lunch ser­vice. The fish fil­lets are light­ly dusted with starch and sea­so­ned with salt, pan-fried, and then sit in a foamy white but­ter sau­ce, rea­dy for pick­up at the pass.

Veal sweet­breads for the Government Council. A mem­ber of the Government Council is here for lunch, along with most­ly other regu­lar guests. The Bernards know their cus­to­mers well; alt­hough a sur­pri­se menu is ser­ved, indi­vi­du­al pre­fe­ren­ces are always taken into account. The two chefs brief­ly dis­cuss which dish might appeal to which guest. For the poli­ti­ci­ans‘ table, the­re are poa­ched, brea­ded, and fried veal sweetbreads—conscientiously car­ved into pie­ces and freed from the fine mem­bra­nes by the intern. I spend the rest of the mor­ning fil­le­ting blood oran­ges and dicing half a dozen baked beets; “a bit smal­ler,” is the che­f’s request after the first few pie­ces. “That will be the new appe­ti­zer,” says Noémie Bernard.

Questions at Lake Zug. After the ser­vice, by the mis­ty Lake Zug, the­re is time for a few que­sti­ons about the Bernard fami­ly­’s working model. “For me, it works excel­lent­ly. I know that even­tual­ly I will need a new solu­ti­on, but as long as my father wants to and can, I am hap­py,” says Noémie. She is the face of the restau­rant, greets the guests, and sets the direc­tion, “but we dis­cuss many things tog­e­ther.” Her cui­sine, Noémie says, should be clas­sic French, “with fla­vor, but­ter, and cream, and some­ti­mes with an Asian touch.” As I get into the car to dri­ve around the lake and spend the break in a café, I noti­ce that my hands still smell of fish despi­te mul­ti­ple washings. This, I think, should be noted under “the sen­so­ry side of the job” and is not as unp­lea­sant as one might assu­me. Like a light sea bree­ze, the scent accom­pa­nies me as I look out over the mis­ty Lake Zug.

South Tyrolean pasta. The evening ser­vice rus­hes past me almost unno­ti­ced later on. While father and daugh­ter con­ti­n­ue to „send“ pla­te after pla­te in unbre­aka­ble harm­o­ny and calm rou­ti­ne, I con­sci­en­tious­ly hand­le the prep work. Every now and then, Noémie Bernard runs some dough through the pasta machi­ne. I then cut cir­cles out of the thin sheets, fill them with a spin­ach and cream cheese mix­tu­re, and fold them into half-moons. By the end, three trays with 30 of the­se rye-flour „Schlutzkrapfen“ each have been pro­du­ced. A South Tyrolean „poor man’s dish“ from Giorgio Bernard’s home­land. Dumplings, howe­ver, are not ser­ved; Anita Bernard, a nati­ve of Appenzell, reso­lut­e­ly vetoes that. At „Sternen“ in Walchwil, one thing is cer­tain: ever­yo­ne in the Bernard fami­ly has a say. “Great job,” Chef Noémie Bernard says as she bids the intern fare­well, and for the dura­ti­on of the dri­ve home, I feel quite proud of myself.

» Sternen Walchwil