Consideration of La Grange- Verbier

Ah beautiful Verbier and for just one night! C’est dommage! After three blissful hours in the spa, I had to continue the do-something-nice-for-self streak that I’d started. So, rather than just hit the local trattoria as I’d planned, I headed to La Grange which came to me as a recommendation of the concierge and also many an article online, one even stated that it should have a Michelin star. Well then!

I walked in and was seated at a table immaculately prepared for my solo arrival. It was in the corner, situated to look out of the window, and with the second chair removed, which always amuses me. Good start.

The bread and fresh butter were nice, as was this amuse bouche of salmon crostini with gherkin.

Things pretty much deteriorated from here. I was given this gorgeous plate of burrata and tomatoes only to find that the buratta was frozen! Ok, ‘ish happens and if the restaurant has as good of reviews as it said, there was clearly a mix up. I don’t usually send food back, but I just had to. And in French-land. <Gulp>. This was not going to go well. To no surprise, the woman who I think may have been an owner, was offended. However, she returned to apologize profusely, insisting that they only used fresh products and that the refrigerator was too cold. Fair, it’s what I suspected. She offered me something else, but my heart was set on this so she brought another, clearly cut in half and microwaved. Not amazing, but my dumb arse should have just given in and said forget it.

No sooner than 30 seconds after she set down the refreshed (sort of) plate, than a gentleman in black came up to me. I assumed he was the chef coming to apologize. Nope, he was some ding dong from the table of twelve next door to mine. He said something in French akin to, I might come eat with you because his chair was literally touching my table. Yay. His spawn who must have been about 12 years old, proceeded to lean on my table while ordering while I was trying to eat. Naturally, I stopped so they could have conversation. I don’t understand why they’d seat me at a table touching a bunch of rude people where they literally had to yell over me to speak with the waitress.

My main was the sea bass that the house is known for. It was delicious, but I couldn’t fully enjoy it. Rude neighbor and his kids spent far too long staring directly at me and my food, wishing me bon appetit and so on. Then, by the time they finally turned away and realized that they might just get food of their own because “restaurant”, I had to do jumping jacks to ask a waitress for wine. You’d think in this region in a supposed nice restaurant they’d want you to have a glass with your meal. Oh and your bill. Not so much.

I had planned a leisurely dinner with dessert, but of course declined it because I just couldn’t wait to get out of that restaurant, away from this terrible, gawking family and into civilization where someone might pour your a drink to accompany a vacation meal. They brought this random smattering of dessert to pair with the check which I am sure was only to ease the pain of the frozen burrata still on said check. Not to pull a this would never happen in a nice resto in the States, but… it wouldn’t.

La Grange. I paid 90 CHF to be stressed out for most of an hour and a half. As a lover of food, wine, and restaurants, this was a massive and expensive disappointment and I let my hotel know this as well. Please, when in Verbier, don’t bother with the headache that you have the pleasure of paying for and try somewhere else. I know I am looking forward to trying a number of other restaurants on my next visit.

Thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s