Roaming Swiss shepherds of two centuries ago could have never imagined that us future generations would copy their wintertime ritual of huddling around pots of melted cheese and wine while sweating out July’s heat. But then who says that you can’t slurp on watermelon in January or roast a turkey in May, or for that matter, dip crusty bread into bubbling curds after spending a day on the sands?

The first time I experienced fondue was on a bitter cold night in Frankfurt, Germany. The dinner party consisted of about 10 people who settled into their seats as if they had boarded a private jet stocked with enough food and wine to fly them around the world. It was a warming, hospitable event that I began duplicating on home turf nearly every winter thereafter.

My recent visit to Fondue Fusion and Bistro in Mission Valley stemmed mainly from an out-of-season hankering for the meal – especially for classic Swiss cheese fondue as a starter – and partly out of curiosity over the year-round business this place seems to attract.

With two companions in tow, we nestled into one of the wooden, cubicle-like booths amid two other parties in the room. On the other side of the layout is a bar and an additional dining area with booths that accommodate bigger groups. Those remained empty on this particular weeknight, though I was told later that most of the dipping action occurs on weekends, when reservations are recommended.

Tables feature built-in hotplates, on which fat metal pots sit. First-course cheese fondues are assembled tableside by a waitperson. There are six different types to choose from, all starting with a beer base except for Swiss fondue, which is constructed from white wine. Main courses involve plates of raw meats and seafood that you cook yourself in either vegetable or beef broth, the latter instilling better flavor to the niblets. In either case they’re a healthier rendition compared to oil, which has been used throughout the fondue craze of past decades. Chocolate dessert fondues are made in the kitchen and brought out in hot, silky form.

My first complaint about Fondue Fusion centers on the portion sizes. Each of us sprung for all-inclusive meals, which provide you with the aforementioned courses, plus a salad. But whether you choose the all-inclusive or order your protein a la carte, you get only six to eight ounces of flesh. Fondue isn’t supposed to be a pig fest, but these rations fall short of what an average carnivore likes to eat in one sitting.

Prices for all-inclusive suppers range from $28.50 for “the vegetarian” (assorted veggies, ravioli and tofu) to $49.50 for the “surf and turf” (Honduran lobster tail, filet tenderloin and tiger shrimp). Our choices were priced in between, delivering precisely measured amounts of meat, poultry, seafood and peripheral vegetables winking at our skewers.

As a teaser to the meal, we added an a la carte, single-portion cheese fondue called the Margherita, a new item since the restaurant changed its name from Forever Fondue. For $8, the portion was ridiculously miniscule. The recipe started with a few ounces of beer that our waitress left heating in our pot too long before she added a smidgen of very plain-tasting “sharp” Wisconsin cheddar along with drams of minced garlic and sun-dried tomatoes. The dippers included pears, raw veggies and a large basket of stale bread cubes, all with nowhere to go after we demolished the melty concoction in a few fast swipes.

Launching into the all-inclusive menu, the waitress changed out the pot to construct a terribly lackluster version of Swiss fondue. The liquid base, a cheap and watery white wine, was fed the traditional 50-50 blend of pre-shredded Emmentaler and Gruyere cheeses. The usual embellishments were also added – lemon, nutmeg and kirsch (cherry brandy). But the under-aged cheeses tasted as vapid as string cheese, which resulted in a non-robust outcome capable of prompting a Swiss shepherd to defect to France.

Proceeding to three different salads, two of them overdressed in Caesar and vinaigrette, we perked up over our main courses, but not without receiving steam facials from beef broth that our waitress left gently evaporating at our table in yet another annoying disappearing act.

With various combinations of sirloin, tarragon chicken breast, pork tenderloin, tiger shrimp, salmon, scallops and mussels under our noses, we reveled over their freshness and how quickly and nicely they cooked in the boiling broth. Nine sauces were also brought to the table; the waitress informing us which sauces match to what. But these rules are meant to be broken.

Wasabi-dill sauce, for instance, is designated for seafood, although we found that it complimented everything. Bourbon-peppercorn sauce is naturally tailored for red meat, but the chicken hardly complained. I especially savored the creamy Jalapeno sauce dribbled over a few lost-and-found mushrooms that I fished from the broth after they abandoned our skewers.

From more than 10 dessert fondues on the menu, the dark Belgian chocolate with raspberry puree was supreme and substantial. It’s served with cubes of pound cake, cheesecake and fruits. If only the cheese fondues were as good, and meat portions were raised a notch, I’d probably relegate my fondue pots to the high cupboards a little more often.