Fondue (sans wine)

It's just not New Year's Eve without fondue.  Fireworks?  No need.  Silly hats?  No thank you.  Staying up until midnight?  Usually not accomplished.  But dinner absolutely needs to be fondue.

New Year's Eve fondue is a last hurrah if January means salads and yoga.  It's a warm belly if you're in a climate that requires that kind of thing in the deep, dark days of winter.  It's romance, a meal that begs to be shared, and of course all that comes with having dropped your bread in the pot.  It's really just a fantastic excuse to melt up some cheese, serve it with bread, and call it dinner.

There's exactly one correct way to make classic fondue, and I am not going to tell you that way.  In fact, by omitting the wine (and the kirsch), I am probably breaking the collective hearts of all who live in Switzerland (where it is, by the way, just "la fondue" with no qualifier - there is no such thing as "cheese fondue").  But with a pregnant wife who is not a risk taker, I needed to find a way to make this tradition non-alcoholic.

A dry white wine adds an acidity to the fondue that serves to cut the rich cheese.  I managed to mimic the flavor by juicing a lemon, and the result was almost - almost - the perfect imitation of the real thing.  We certainly ate up every last bite with no complaints.  And next year, with a tiny little person by our side, we may not make it to midnight, but we will be pouring white wine in our first fondue as a family.

Fondue
Comfortably serves 2, probably more suited for 3; double to serve a crowd

1 clove garlic, smashed
1/4 lb Gruyere, shredded
1/4 lb Emmental, shredded
2 T flour
juice from two lemons

Rub a heavy pan with the garlic clove.  Toss the cheeses with the flour.  Pour the lemon juice in the pan, and heat over medium heat until boiling.  Add the cheeses, and heat slowing, stirring constantly, until melted.

When cheese is bubbling, taste and see if it needs more lemon juice.  Serve hot with cubes of bread you baked a few days ago.