Fondue pots are the pitbulls of the kitchen appliance community.

Misunderstood, cast out,

villainized, they stand accused of the most grievous of sins: taking up space and enabling kitsch. We
don’t know where our fondue pot came from—all we know is it ended up at Goodwill. Most likely it
was dropped off there during a manic fit of tidying up, or possibly purged in anticipation of a move.
Regardless, it’s gone, and when it finally arrived in Goodwill’s home goods department, it was likely
not the only set available for purchase there. You can point to the ever-growing number of
abandoned fondue sets as evidence that the generations since the ’60s have turned their backs on
the once-loved Swiss dining tradition. The fondue kits that litter garage sales and thrift stores are
trotted out as confirmation that subsequent generations aren’t as much fun as our rollicking,
absolutely liberated, free cheese-dunking predecessors.

In reality, it’s not that younger generations hate fondue—although some individuals certainly take
issue with it. It’s more that we reject the idea that we need to store one more goddamned kitchen
appliance in our homes in order to enjoy it. Like many foods seized upon and elevated by American
suburbia, fondue claims humble beginnings. As the story goes, 17th-century Swiss peasants would
dip stale bread into melted cheese, creating enough of a culinary fuss that in the 1930s, the dish was
awarded the ultimate distinction of serving as Switzerland’s national food. In 1964, the Swiss
introduced Americans to fondue by featuring it in their pavilion at the World’s Fair in New York
where it caught on, becoming one of the foods to define that American decade.

When people take issue with fondue, the problem is usually not the taste. Traditional fondue
consists of cheeses—usually varieties like Camembert, Taleggio, Beaufort, Fontina, and Emmental—
combined with substances such as white wine, garlic, and black pepper over very low heat. These
are not ingredients most people would protest. Rearrange the atoms and you have yourself a wine
and cheese fête. Change them again and you have chips and queso, fondue’s more casual, southern
cousin.

The exact reason why modern Americans fail to embrace fondue is tough to pin down, but it
usually comes back to kitsch. The sentimentality of it all makes us uncomfortable. Fondue parties are
too nostalgic, too innocent, and too specific to one demographic, one type of experience. Even if we
like fondue as a dish, the experience of throwing the party feels like a novelty, a cute throwback. It
feels a little like a performance. And there’s always a small chance one of your guests might set your
house on fire.

But food has never been more performative than the present. We make meals just to take pictures
of them and post them on Instagram. We freely share information about our diets, our cleanses, our
meal prep. The Swiss Cheese Union sold Americans on fondue by highlighting its aspirational
qualities. “Eat fondue and you will be popular, attractive, and athletic!” If ever there was a dish
designed for social media, it’s fondue.

The last few years indicate that culturally speaking, the public is hungry for throwbacks. Anxiety
levels are mounting and we’re starving for entertainment that evokes old memories, that make us
feel the way we did when we were younger, more innocent, less exhausted. It’s why studios are
rebooting shows like Charmed, Dynasty, Murphy Brown, Will & Grace, and Roseanne. It’s why we
keep watching The Office, even though we know every line by heart. It’s comfort food for an
uncomfortable time. Maybe now, during the era of reboots, it’s time to bring back fondue.

Qosse: thetakeout.com