Between the Bread

We Anglo-Saxons are not known for our culinary sophistication. Apparently, according to most Swiss people I have met, the British Christmas pudding is shaped like a football, because it is, in effect, a football, while American cuisine is all about size over substance. Or so the theories go.

There are many parts of British food culture I miss: one of them is the lunchtime sandwich. A ritual in the UK, the sandwich has become a staple of any workers diet. Egg and Cress. Bacon and Avocado. Shrimp and Mayonnaise. Beef and onion. You name it. you can have it. In a roll, a bap, white sliced or wholewheat. Butter or Marge. Salt and Pepper. With a mug of tea and a bag of ready salted. My mouth is watering already.

A stroll around London’s city and you become aware of how many sandwich stores exist: prêt a manger, Benjys, EAT not to mention a plethora of hole in the wall Italian delis that look as if their vinyl bench seats have not been updated, nor wiped clean, since the 1960s.

So, I wonder where in Zurich are the best sandwiches? I am not talking ciabatta with rucola and parma ham here, that is not a sandwich but an aspirational lifestyle statement. Nor do I mean greasy, mouthburning hot panini (of which a great one can be had on the Zahringerplatz by the way) The sandwiches I am talking about are cold and do not involve melted cheese.

A friend suggested the Manta Bar on Bahnhofstrasse but I can’t go there to check because my Rolex Oyster is getting its battery changed and the Ferrari is having its windscreen washer fluids purified. Currently, my default option is Sprungli who produce the Corn roll with Chicken and Mayonnaise – this to my mind is the closest I will ever get to British sandwich heaven in Zurich.

Now, for an American sandwich, I suppose there is a Subway somewhere in town. Otherwise, there is a burger or two for sure.

My obsessions with hamburgers is a relatively new thing. As a child I distinctly remember going to Macdonalds for the first time, back in the days when the buns still had sesame seeds on them. I remember both the visit and the sesame seeds as I witnessed for the first time in my life, a woman remove her false teeth to dislodge a sesame seed that was stuck to her palette. An amazingly day of firsts for a child of six, I can tell you.

I digress. The Burger went unloved by me for years until recently, when I discovered the joys. My search for a burger in Zurich has lead me up a few blind alleys, one of them ending in a place called hooters that I will not describe in detail here. One of the more successful burger trips was one that ended in the SilberKugel.

Now the SilberKugel, to the unitiated, is a thing to behold. A retro-looking Swiss fast food restaurant, with bar stools and a diner like bar, waitresses that have been on the job since the place opened and round windows that frankly make you feel like you are dining in the mess room of a submarine. The food is – well – functional. The prices reasonable and general atmosphere is pleasant. The day I was there, I sat next to two plumbers, opposite a man who could have been an insurance clerk and next to an elderly, well dressed woman who scarfed a cheese melt like it was a guilty pleasure. I took a Silberburger, I think, a gloriously greasy thing. And enjoyed it very much. Not quite a sandwich but highly recommended. The place looks like it could do with some custom anyhow.

Now, that my appetite is wetted, I am intrigued to find out where there are other burgers and sandwiches in this city… I want to know where your favorite chicken and sweetcorn sandwich is or where you get your best hamburger… Suggestions gratefully received at armitage@hoerkolumnen.ch.

Burning the Boogg

So here we are, on the cusp of the third Monday in April, eenly awaiting Zurich’s transformation into the set of a 18th Century pagent centered around an exploding snowman.

To the uninitiated, let me explain: the days is Sechselauten – or the striking of six – a Monday in April where Zurich abandons all claims to be multicultural business capital and slides blissfully back into the dressing up box of its past.

Grown men, insurance clerks probably or highly-paid hedge fund managers, dress up like extras from shapre, donn robs, wigs, tricorn hats, carry swords, spears and sticks, take to drums or brass instruments and generally carry on like its 1777. It is as if a historical drama came to town and forget to bring the film crew.

The concept if you will is based around the city’s 25 guilds and the mend are dressed as one or other them. As they walk through the Bahnhofstrasse and down to the Bellevue, their ladyfolk – remember we are in 1777 here – present them with flowers and get a peck on the check in turn.

In the meantime, and this is the part I have never really grasped, there is a procession around the Bellevue involving a visiting canton (invited up to Zurich to marvel at the wonderful costumes and generally be made to feel like the poor cousin). There are large animals, camels for instance and people dressed up like bears (JJ1 or Bruno was booked for 2006 until his untimely demise) and then, to cap it all, a huge bonfire (lovingly constructed by the parks department) with a snowman-like on the top… yep, a snowman. On a bonfire. This part relates not to 1777 necessarily but sometime a little earlier when Zurich’s hunters would head off after winter to slay the Böögg.

Now, you have to remember that we in Britain have had years of practice with bonfires – bonfire night on Nov 5th – the day on which we celebrate the failure (it could only be the Brits) the failure of the gunpoweder plot of 1605 in which guy fawkes, a confessed catholic, attempted to blow up the houses of parliament, allegedly. Since I am from Yorkshire, which is where Fawkes was from too, we don’t burn efigees of Guy Fawkes. Instead we just have fires and eat toffee apples…

As a result I am not as comfortable with the site of burning effigies as others might be… The Boogg rather gets my sympathies, particularly since the poor guy – no pun intended – is dragged through the streets and booed at and also has his head stuffed full of explosives in what strikes me as a particularly cruel attempt to create drama and excitement… he has even in recent years been subject to kidnap attempts…

The time taken for his head to explode is generally seen as a being an indication of the prospects for the summer in Zurich – the longer it takes the better the summer will be. I think. Recently, it has taken so little time that no one has had a moment to start the stop watch and record it… Apparently, it used to be a witch that burned so I suppose we should be glad that this practice has stopped…

I found this description: Suddenly the flames spring upward and the explosive-filled figure of the snow man ignites. White-robed horsemen gallop about the fire as firecrackers explode and parts of Boogg fly in all directions, amid a deafening roar of noise and confusion. Round and round the horsemen ride, forming a magic circle about Winter, to prevent his escape from the flames.The symbolic rite which has come down through the centuries from pagan times is one of Switzerland's many ceremonies to dramatize Winter's expulsion and universal joy in returning Spring.

Mainly though the day is remembered for being a half-day holiday and for the confusion that it creates in the minds of tourists many of whom cannot fathom how they stepped off the train into 1777.