
This piece by Emily Hilliard is a web-exclusive companion to our current issue of Gravy, which focuses on the foodways of Appalachia.
Helvetia, West Virginia, is not a town you can just happen upon. About 30 miles south of Buckhannon and 40 miles southwest of Elkins (you know where those are, right?), the journey to Helvetia is a long and winding mountainous route up County Route 46. Even when you get there, it would be easy to blow right through town, were it not for the Swiss Alpineâstyle buildings peppered along the roadside.
The village was settled in 1869 by Swiss immigrants, many of them craftsmen, who had immigrated to Brooklyn, New York, during the Civil War. In Brooklyn, they formed a society of Swiss and German speakers called the Gruetli Verein, and together sought a place where they could live freely and practice their respective art forms. One of their members had done some surveying in West Virginia and spoke of the large tracts of land, beautiful mountains, and plentiful forests of game. The group eventually found cheap land for sale in the area and decided to establish a village, calling it Helvetia, the Latin name for Switzerland.
Pride in Swiss heritage is still visible in todayâs Helvetia via the hand-painted signs of coats of arms and Swiss phrases, historical markers, and preserved buildings like the Cheese Haus, Honey Haus, and Boot Maker Shop. But though well maintained, for the most part those businesses lie dormant. Being a place so isolated and smallâthe last census put the population at 59âHelvetia can feel like a sleepy relic on a normal day. That is, until you enter The HĂŒtte. The townâs only restaurant, The HĂŒtte (pronounced “hoo-tay”) is perched at the edge of town along the confluence of the Left and Right Forks of the Buckhannon River. When you step onto the long front porch and open the screen door of the bright gold gingerbread building, you get the sense that youâre entering someoneâs well-loved home rather than a restaurant. The wooden floors of the dining rooms creak with age, and the walls are filled with old photographs, vintage farm tools, cloth-bound books, and other antiques. Hand-embroidered tablecloths cover the wooden tables, set with mismatched wooden chairs. In the winter, fires blaze in the wood stoves. Come summer, fresh-cut flowers serve as table centerpieces. The HĂŒtte is cozy and quaint without being precious or contrivedâit is the way it is, and has been since Eleanor Mailloux and Delores Baggerly opened it in the 1960s.
Raised in Helvetia in the 1920s, Eleanor Mailloux came back to her beloved village in the 60s after living on the Pacific island of Guam. Upon her return, she found that Helvetia had lost touch with many of its Swiss traditions, and embarked on a number of projects to help reinvigorate the townâs unique cultural heritage. Among them was Fasnachtâa Swiss Mardi Gras celebration that the town still holds annually. Mailloux also established The HĂŒtte. She took sole ownership of the restaurant in 1976, and in her 93 years, established herself as not only the face of The HĂŒtteâthe person to greet you at the door and offer you a cup of coffeeâbut the matriarch of Helvetia itself.

Many of the dishes served at The HĂŒtte came from recipes that Mailloux collected from townspeople. In 1969, the year of Helvetiaâs centennial, she published a community cookbook from her findings, Oppis Guetâs vo Helvetia, or Something Good From Helvetia, which is still in print by the townâs Garden Club.
Like the cookbook and The HĂŒtte dĂ©cor, the menu also remains unchangedâ and not just in the dishes offered. Though the prices have naturally risen, the cover for the physical menu is the same that appeared on tables when The HĂŒtte first opened. On that menu there are classic Swiss items, Southern Appalachian influences, and dishes and flavors that Mailloux brought home from her travels abroad. Her daughter Heidi Arnett says, âThe sausage [of veal and pork, marinated in a tomato sauce] we make is definitely from a Swiss recipe. Then my mother created some of the recipes like Morgan Henalie, a curried chicken that translates as âMorning Henâ. She created it, as well as our curried pineapple, with Asian flavors because she lived in Guam for many years and traveled to Thailand, Hong Kong, and other areas of the Far East.â The HĂŒtte’s standard dessert is a buttery, cake-like peach cobbler spiced with nutmeg.
Alongside the listing of fare on The HĂŒtte menu is an inscription that conveys an aspect of the restaurant thatâs just as important as the food. It reads, âThe HĂŒtte is not just another restaurant, rather, it is an emotional happening.â It goes on, âWalking into the little dining room is like stepping into the warm inviting kitchen of some loved one out of the past.” As the menu notes, all of The HĂŒtte’s furnishings and decorations were bequeathed by former Helvetia residentsâthere is “Grandma” Fischerâs old cupboard, Mrs. Karlenâs stove, and John Martisâ cherry brandy jug. The HĂŒtte carries this tangible weight because it preserves items from many of the local residents, living and deceased. Betty Biggs, a Helvetia native, noted that her motherâs and sisterâs embroidery work still hangs in the restaurant, and some of her own hand-carved chairs serve as guest seats.
But The HĂŒtte is also an âemotional happeningâ because of the role it plays in the community, transcending its casting as a typical restaurant. Biggs shared, âKids will be out playing, and theyâll get all hot and thirsty and go to the door and theyâll say âCan I have a piece of bread?â or âCan I have a can of pop?â and of course, they just give it to them, you know? And the local fishermen will be out fishing and if they donât happen to have any fish eggs with them, theyâll stop [at The HĂŒtte] and say, âOh, give me some bait,â and theyâll give them some cheese or corn. And you know if you run out of something you can run to The HĂŒtte and borrow it if they have it.â
For locals, The HĂŒtte is a community gathering placeâa neighbor with a door thatâs always open for a cup of coffee and catch-up on the town news. Biggs recalls, âIf you were out of electricity or whatever, you could still go down and eat. [Eleanor would] cook it on the woodstove and have the oil lamps burning and the candles going and you might end up spending the whole evening there, have a game of cards, drink some wine, play some music. Itâs just that kind of place.â
The HĂŒtte is a stronghold in the community, or as one local customer called it, the âanchor storeâ of Helvetia. It’s a place you can count on being open, of having the same menu items, of not changing. Many residents eat there at least once a week, sometimes more. Arnett commented, âItâs like coming home. We try not to change anything, and I think thatâs what people love. If you would eat at the restaurant 20 years ago and then eat there now and then eat there 20 years from now, we hope that everything is exactly the same.â
But as much as thatâs true, things inevitably change. Eleanor Mailloux passed away in 2011, leaving a huge void in the restaurant and town. At the time it was uncertain what would become of the restaurant, though many locals volunteered to step up just to keep it running. Eventually Arnett and four other family members took it over. Despite its being the main employer in Helvetia, The HĂŒtte struggles in the winter, when tourists are sparse. The family doesnât make money off of the business. According to Arnett, âWe have [other] jobsâwe donât care about making any money, we just want to see it go. None of us make a dime from itâweâve put everything right back into it. And we are very, very dedicated to this continuing. It certainly seems like if we can just make it through into the summer then we save a little for the winter, we can keep it going.â
Though Eleanor Maillouxâs legacy lives on in much of the town, perhaps her most lasting influence is The HĂŒtte, which has became a symbol of Helvetia itself. It seems that one could not go on without the other. As Maillouxâs granddaughter Clara Lehmann put it, âItâs one of the only places that holds us together.â When I asked her mother was what the future held for the restaurant, she was a little more dire. âOver my dead body!â she exclaimed. Betty Biggs merely stated, âLong Live The HĂŒtte.â
And Helvetia with it.
Emily Hilliard is a folklorist, baker, and blogger based in Washington, D.C. She blogs about pie at “Nothing in the House” and is a regular contributor to NPR’s “Kitchen Window” series.