Andreas Caminada — The View Beyond the Peak
I first came to Schloss Schauenstein years ago, traveling through Zurich and then into Graubünden specifically for Andreas Caminada’s cooking. Reaching Fürstenau takes intention: you come for the restaurant, stay at the Schloss and give yourself over to the experience. The journey felt worthwhile because the entire experience carried the same artistic discipline, from the precision of the cooking and service to the atmosphere, objects, and setting.
Andreas and I stayed in touch. Over the years, I watched his reach extend well beyond Switzerland — across Europe and into Asia, from restaurants and hospitality into books, publishing, television, brand collaborations, and a growing range of creative projects. His public profile grew with it, as did the organization and people around him.
Returning to Schloss Schauenstein for The Inspire Conversations allowed us to formalize an exchange that had been unfolding over years. I wanted to look more closely at the instincts and decisions behind that evolution, and at what continues to hold Andreas’s attention after more than two decades at the highest level.
Today, Caminada’s role extends far beyond the kitchen, although Schloss Schauenstein remains the center of everything he does. Around it, he has built restaurants and projects with identities of their own.
His latest book, Beyond Peaks, provided a timely point of departure for the interview. Published after more than two decades at Schloss Schauenstein, it offered a natural moment to look at how Caminada’s thinking has evolved alongside everything he has built in Fürstenau.
Inside "The Castle" Schloss Schauenstein Andreas Caminada's latest book, Beyond Peaks: The Cuisine of Schloss Schauenstein Andreas Caminada's latest book, Beyond Peaks: The Cuisine of Schloss Schauenstein Andreas Caminada at the launch event in Zurich: Beyond Peaks: The Cuisine of Schloss Schauenstein Dining setting at Schloss Schauenstein
Returning Home
Andreas Caminada is so closely identified with Graubünden today that it is easy to forget that one of the decisive moments in his career happened far from Switzerland.
After completing his apprenticeship in Laax, Caminada left Switzerland at 19 and traveled to Canada, initially to study English. Through people he met there, he found work and was given opportunities to spend time inside some of Vancouver’s leading restaurants, including Lumière and Le Crocodile.
“I was able to get these glimpses into great restaurants, and that opened my eyes completely,” he recalls.
What struck him was not one particular technique or style, but the breadth of what a restaurant could be: the precision, the ambition, the beauty of the work and the existence of a culinary culture much larger than the one he had known.
When he returned to Europe, Caminada deliberately sought out kitchens where he could continue learning, working in Germany and Zurich before eventually taking the step toward a restaurant of his own. Yet those experiences did not pull him toward one of Europe’s culinary capitals. They clarified where he wanted to build.
“For me it was clear: I wanted to come home.”
While working in Zurich, he returned to the mountains whenever he could, often spending his weekends outdoors in Graubünden. When the opportunity arose to establish his own restaurant, proximity to the landscape and community in which he had grown up mattered more than being positioned at the center of a larger market.
That attachment is practical rather than sentimental. Caminada grew up in a village of around 600 people, not far from Fürstenau. He remembers a childhood spent largely outside and a family environment shaped by consistency and work. His father, whom he describes simply as a very hard-working person, still appears around Schloss Schauenstein today, helping where he can.
Those values remain evident in the way Caminada approaches his work. For Caminada, consistency means keeping your word and returning the next day prepared to do it again.
“It’s not a gift,” he says. “You need to work hard for it.”
That grounding also shaped his decision to build something of his own in Graubünden. He had returned with a much broader understanding of what ambitious hospitality could be, but wanted to interpret it on his own terms, in the place he knew best.
When Schloss Schauenstein began, Caminada was 26, and the team numbered four.
“I always had this motor,” he tells me, “this ambition to create a place where I feel happy, where I can define every detail and feel at home.”
“It’s not a gift — you need to work hard for it. I always had this motor, this ambition to create a place where I feel happy, where I can define every detail and feel at home.”
Scenery inside and around Schloss Schauenstein Scenery inside and around Schloss Schauenstein Scenery inside and around Schloss Schauenstein Scenery inside and around Schloss Schauenstein Scenery inside and around Schloss Schauenstein Scenery inside and around Schloss Schauenstein Scenery inside and around Schloss Schauenstein Scenery inside and around Schloss Schauenstein Scenery inside and around Schloss Schauenstein
Building a Place, Not a Brand
What exists in Fürstenau today was never conceived as a complete plan. Caminada knew early that he wanted more than a restaurant, but the place took shape incrementally.
From the beginning, he imagined bringing the castle back to life so guests could stay rather than arrive only for dinner.
“From the beginning, there was also the idea of creating the hotel and bringing this building back to life,” he says.
For the first decade, Schloss Schauenstein was essentially the castle itself. Around 2011, Caminada began taking over the neighboring property where Oz now sits. The process of creating Casa Caminada started the following year and took almost six years, from planning and permissions through construction.
“What you see here now took 23 years to build.”
Casa Caminada broadened the experience in Fürstenau: a restaurant rooted in Graubünden, guest rooms, a bakery and spaces devoted to the region’s food and craft. Together with the rooms and suites at Schloss, it gave guests reason to stay longer and experience more of the place.
The order mattered. Schloss first had to build a loyal clientele and a business capable of supporting what came next. Only then could Caminada take on additional buildings and increasingly ambitious projects.
“It wasn’t something that was designed completely on paper and then simply opened,” he says. “I don’t think that would have worked.”
Dining at Schloss Schauenstein Dining at Schloss Schauenstein Dining at Schloss Schauenstein Dining at Schloss Schauenstein Dining at Schloss Schauenstein Dining at Schloss Schauenstein Dining at Schloss Schauenstein Dining at Schloss Schauenstein Dining at Schloss Schauenstein
Sarah Caminada has played an essential role in that process. Andreas describes their division plainly: she handles “the finance and the hard facts,” while he gravitates toward interiors and the creative side. Their different instincts can lead to difficult discussions, he says, but they also force creative ambition to meet financial reality.
By the time Schloss Schauenstein reached its 20th anniversary, the restaurant itself was only part of the story. Beyond Peaks was conceived not simply as a cookbook, but as a portrait of the place that had developed around it — its architecture, landscape, producers, garden and the experience of arriving in Fürstenau.
“It was important not to make it only about dishes, recipes and information,” he says. “That storyline was very important: to feel the place.”
By then, the cooking alone no longer explained the whole of what Caminada had built.
The logic behind that development was more instinctive: “I never thought, ‘I’m creating a brand,’” he says. “It’s more like: we should do this, we could do that better, maybe we should do something more local.”
The stay at Schloss Schauenstein The stay at Schloss Schauenstein The stay at Schloss Schauenstein The stay at Schloss Schauenstein The stay at Schloss Schauenstein The stay at Schloss Schauenstein The stay at Schloss Schauenstein Casa Caminada Casa Caminada Casa Caminada
One Vision, Different Cabinets
At Schloss Schauenstein, new menus begin weeks before they reach the dining room. That degree of structure is a long way from Caminada’s early years, when menus changed constantly, and the kitchen could still be deciding at six what would be served at seven.
“The more people you have, the more organized you need to become,” he says.
Caminada and Marcel Skibba, head chef and partner at Schloss Schauenstein, begin with seasonality and the direction of the menu. “When we create new menus, Marcel and I brainstorm together,” Caminada says. From there, the work moves into the test kitchen, where ingredients are prepared, combinations tested and dishes adjusted through tasting. Sometimes the starting point is as simple as rhubarb and celery.
“You say, ‘Okay, what should we do?’” he explains. “Then you start trying this and that, and suddenly you have something.”
The process remains intuitive despite the structure around it. “It isn’t forced too much by your head; it’s something you have to feel,” Caminada says. “It also reflects your personality.”
That intuitive stage is also where he remains most directly involved. “That part is importa,nt and you cannot delegate it completely,” he says. “I really need to have my finger on it because it represents us.”
At Schloss, that authorship is shared. Skibba is involved from the first stages of menu development, while Caminada remains close to composition, presentation, and how a dish reaches the guest. Once the direction has been established, he steps back. “Once that is defined, I step back, and they do their jobs in the restaurants.”
Marcel Skibba, head chef and partner at Schloss Schauenstein Marcel Skibba, head chef and partner at Schloss Schauenstein Marcel Skibba, head chef and partner at Schloss Schauenstein Marcel Skibba, head chef and partner at Schloss Schauenstein Marcel Skibba, head chef and partner at Schloss Schauenstein The Menu at Schloss Schauenstein
Beyond Schloss, Caminada applies the same principle at the level of the concept itself. “We didn’t want to create a second castle,” he says.
IGNIV was conceived around sharing, with old glassware and French-influenced porcelain that deliberately departed from the visual language prevalent in contemporary fine dining at the time. Oz began with the garden. During the pandemic, rather than simply add more tables to Schloss, Caminada and his team created a plant-based restaurant around what was growing there.
The projects belong to the same organization, but each is conceived on its own terms. Caminada has a particularly clear way of describing that structure: “I like having different cabinets in which to put different ideas.”
For him, each cabinet needs its own logic. A concept may begin with food, but its identity extends into the room, the tabletop, the plates and the objects surrounding the meal. “When we do something new, I force myself not to copy and paste what we did before,” he says.
“I like having different cabinets in which to put different ideas.”
He is particularly strict about the visual details. “I’m really the sheriff when it comes to that.”
That insistence on distinction also applies to the people leading each restaurant. “You also have to let them shine,” he says. “You have to give them a platform and space to be in the position they want to be in and to be recognized by the guests. I don’t want to hide them; I want to push them.”
The Caminada name, in his view, should not obscure the individuals responsible for those places. “The other restaurants are about their people,” he says. “I want guests to go and visit those people.”
At IGNIV, that trust is visible in his relationship with Daniel Zeindlhofer. After years of working together, Caminada sees no reason to remain involved in every decision. “It’s also beautiful to see people go on their own path,” he says. “I don’t need to micromanage them. If they need something, they can come to me.”
The cabinet metaphor ultimately applies to more than concepts. Each restaurant has its own culinary identity, visual language and team, while Caminada sets the direction and gives those leading it the room to carry it forward.
One vision, but never one template.
IGNIV Zurich IGNIV Zurich IGNIV Zurich (Courtesy of Caminada Group) IGNIV Andermatt (Courtesy of Caminada Group) IGNIV Andermatt (Courtesy of Caminada Group) OZ Plant Based Restaurant Head chef Simeon Nikolov at OZ (Courtesy of Caminada Group) OZ (Courtesy of Caminada Group) OZ (Courtesy of Caminada Group)
The Wider Practice
After Schloss Schauenstein received its third Michelin star in 2010, Andreas and Sarah began considering how some of that success could be returned to the profession. Rather than make a conventional donation, they created Fundaziun Uccelin around the international network they had built over the years.
“We should do something for our own industry and support future talent — people who really love this job,” Caminada recalls.
Friends and colleagues around the world opened their kitchens to young professionals, while the foundation covers the costs of a program lasting roughly five months. Two Swiss francs from every menu sold at Schloss Schauenstein also go directly into the foundation. More than 100 participants have since taken part, yet Caminada estimates that only around three now work within his group.
“The goal is not to create our own talent base,” he says. “Uccelin should be independent; it should be a platform for the industry.”
He understands firsthand what exposure to unfamiliar kitchens can do for a young chef. Uccelin gives others access to that possibility without prescribing where it should lead. “We don’t talk about doing good things; we do them.”
Travel remains part of that outward-looking instinct. Caminada remembers Sergio Herman’s former Oud Sluis for its combination of technical precision, creativity and emotion, and Jardin des Sens as his first three-Michelin-star experience. What interests him now, however, is less the prestige of a restaurant than the context surrounding it.
“How is the region? How is the place? How is the production? How is the site? How is the hospitality?” he asks. “Those are the things that trigger me.”
“Food might actually be the last of those five points.”
He is drawn to destination restaurants where the setting, producers, hospitality and personality of the chef are inseparable from the meal. “I like a place where you can maybe stay overnight and really feel the place and the chef,” he says.
What he looks for changes with the purpose of the trip. Professionally, people are often the focus. Privately, he wants to encounter something unfamiliar. With his family, comfort and ease matter more than ambitious dining every day.
Golf occupies a different part of his life. Caminada first took up the sport at 19 while working at a golf-course restaurant in Canada, often playing after shifts or spending entire days off on the course. “Those were absolutely happy days for me,” he says. “It was my happy place at that time.”
Part of the appeal is that the game resists mastery. “The moment you think you know how to play, that you’re really good and have the perfect shot, the game can hit you hard.”
Today, a few holes, time in the garden or soccer with his children can break the intensity of his schedule. That need has become more pronounced as his role has shifted toward meetings, decisions and problem-solving. The kitchen produces the opposite effect. “In the kitchen, you often get energy because you’re there and creating.”
His understanding of sustainability is similarly practical. Environmental decisions matter — the group is replacing oil-based heating where possible — but Caminada places the development of employees at the center of the subject.
“The most important part of sustainability is really your employees: how you develop them, how you teach them and how you help them evolve.”
Better working conditions and greater balance still have to coexist with a viable operation. That financial discipline also informs his advice to those beginning businesses of their own.
“Start slowly, start small, and do as much as you can yourself.”
Caminada cautions against beginning with the staffing, infrastructure and operating costs of an organization that took more than two decades to build, particularly when outside capital can obscure how expensive a restaurant is to run.
“It’s better to start small and build,” he says.
Food costs, labor, and overhead eventually have to make sense regardless of who is financing the project.
“It cannot simply be a money-burning machine.”
Exposure, distance, responsibility to people and financial discipline may sit outside the act of cooking, but they shape the conditions in which the creative work remains possible.
The View Beyond the Peak
Caminada is skeptical that greater access has made discovery easier. Guests today arrive with more knowledge, more references and fewer surprises.
“People have been everywhere,” he says. “They see everything on Instagram and social media. It’s extremely transparent.”
For him, that changes what hospitality has to offer. At Schloss Schauenstein, he is considering a larger pool and more ways for guests to spend time in Fürstenau before and after dinner. The restaurant remains central, but the experience increasingly extends into the hours around it.
The question then becomes more personal: how does Caminada measure a career after many of its conventional milestones have already been reached?
“Success and awards are short moments,” he says. “You receive an awa,rd and it’s amazing, but then it becomes history. The next day you still need to make yourself happy again without the award.”
His answer moves quickly from recognition to the operation itself.
“I’m proud of the way we came here, the way we did it, the way we operate now and the way we want to be in the future,” he says. “It’s never finished until I close the business, stop, or hand it over to somebody.”
“Success and awards are short moments. You receive an award, and it’s amazing, but then it becomes history.”
The satisfaction lies in the daily operation itself: the restaurants, the teams and the standards he expects.
“It isn’t the awards that drive me,” he says. “It is the place — that we can create this place and keep creating it.”
He describes that responsibility more simply: “It’s about bringing this ship safely home every night, with every guest and every employee saying, ‘That was amazing.’”
Near the end of our interview, I return to the question that had helped shape it: what comes after the peak?
Caminada challenges the premise immediately. “My ‘peak’ was already more than ten years ago.”
He has little interest in replacing it with another. The emphasis now is on judgment — making good decisions, staying attentive and continuing without forcing the pace.
“It’s about finding little motivations day in and day out.” Those motivations are practical. Something at Casa needs changing. A menu needs reconsidering. Another part of the property suggests a possibility.
Earlier in his career, progress arrived through recognizable milestones. Today, it is measured in smaller increments: whether the operation remains strong, whether the people around him continue to develop, and whether there is still something worth changing the next morning.
That is the view beyond the peak: not the pursuit of another summit, but the clarity to recognize what comes next.
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