The Tsé Fung… the duck, the silence and the steps
Some doors make you feel a little dizzy. Not necessarily palace doors… though! Behind them sometimes lies a whole story. This is what awaits us once we cross the threshold of the hotel La Réserve in Geneva and descending a few steps.
Elephant and parrots
Tsé Fung isn’t just a Chinese restaurant tucked away below a five-star hotel. It’s somewhere else. A fragment of Asia dedicated to haute gastronomy, set on the shores of Lake Geneva like an unexpected stopover. China,the 3rd largest country in the world, has ancestral culinary traditions that stretch from north to south, east to west. For years, the restaurant orchestrated by chef Frank Xu has distilled the essence of these traditions with admirable consistency. There are no fads, no folklore, just a reassuring regularity and mastery in a fast-paced gastronomic world. Recognition from regular, well-informed customers has come naturally.
The first step is to cross the hushed world of La Réserve, decorated by Jacques Garcia: tawny carpeting, stylized elephant sculptures, baroque parrots. An elegant, theatrical exuberance. Then we go downstairs. Silence settles in and the outside world disappears. In the dining room, the team is orchestrated by Nicolas Bragard, discreet and smiling, delivering precise, attentive service without being overbearing. Here, years of stability and the experience of a multitude of seasons have favored a certain fluidity and timed orchestration.
Centerpiece
The appetizers open the ball with delicacy: shrimp toast with a spicy mayo, baos with preserved meat, beautiful bites that play on texture and depth. A signature dish – shrimp coated in a red rice paste, full-bodied broth – surprises with its unexpected balance. Then comes the centerpiece: Peking Peking duck. Presented like a treasure trove. The skin, as thin as cigarette paper, crisps lightly. The flesh is melt-in-the-mouth, juicy and controlled.
It’s customary to place a piece of duck in a small, warm pancake, accompanied by a few cucumber sticks and a veil of dark, shiny hoisin sauce. Fold. The gesture is simple. The moment is solemn. Around the table, time is suspended. Gluttony takes over. You almost forget you’re in a Geneva palace. All that remains is the dish, deeply comforting, and the rare sensation of being in communion with something greater than oneself: a tradition, a know-how, a culinary memory.
The Tsé Fung is a gift. To give. To give yourself. Admittedly, the experience comes at a cost – pilgrimages are never trivial – but if you want to travel to China without leaving Geneva, it’s well worth the detour. Sometimes, all it takes to cross Asia is a few steps down.
