He is of the opinion that right now business opportunities are much better in Nepal than in Europe. With the economies of many European countries struggling of late, and with Italy one of the worst hit, he wouldn’t have dared to open a restaurant in his home country; the risks are too high, and so are the costs. In Nepal the minimum investment the government asks from any foreign entrepreneurs is Rs 5 million, a fraction of what opening a restaurant would cost in Italy. A growing number of Europeans who have come over to Nepal like Candiani think it is a good time for them to try their hand at becoming entrepreneurs in the food and hospitality industry in Nepal.

Candiani’s restaurant is situated in Jawalakhel, just opposite DFID Nepal (the UK department for development), a two-minute walk from the Swiss Embassy, and not far from several other similar institutions. And his hunch that many of those expats would have an appetite for Italian food is not just a blind one. Each Saturday and Sunday he sells homemade pasta, lasagna and pesto sauce in the farmers’ markets at 1905, Kantipath, and at the Yellow House, in Sanepa. “Customers were asking me again and again if I would open up a restaurant,” he says.

Both the farmers’ markets were founded by a Frenchman named François Driard. He arrived in Kathmandu seven years ago with 20,000 euros (around Rs 2.5 million) and with the conviction that he would not work in an office or for a boss anymore. “I’m predominantly interested in food and nature,” he explains, “and a cheese dairy combines these two interests.” Cheese is what he makes now.

When people gather around Driard at the market to buy French cheese, like Camembert, Tomme, and his most recent addition, Brie, it’s obvious that apart from the quality of the food, his being a charismatic Frenchman also plays a role. “Il est frais, le fromage,” he shouts, and not many people understand that he is praising the freshness of his cheese, but they get that he’s French—and a Frenchman is in general supposed to be  an expert in all things cheese , as the Italian is with pasta. That goes for not only the clients at the market, but also when he is selling his products to high-end hotels like the Hyatt: “It is certainly easier for me to meet chefs because I’m French,” he says.

At his cheesery, near Dhulikhel, he has eight employees, and he says he has managed to cut down his own workload to two or three hours per day, which would never be possible in France. But Nepal does not only mean great opportunities for entrepreneurs like Driard; there are challenges too. Driard’s current cheesery is actually his fourth; he had to close down his first three setups due to mistakes he made and because he could not navigate around the difficulties inherent to the country. For instance, he had problems getting enough—and unadultered—milk and logistical problems to do with shipping his product to market hobbled his venture. Furthermore, he points out that it’s not easy to find staff that suit his expectations.

If finding the staff is difficult, retaining them is even more so. Walter Schweiger, a 62-year-old Austrian cook who immigrated to Kathmandu almost 30 years ago, basically trains his personnel for his restaurant, Mitho Mitho, by himself.

 “The problem is that as soon as someone has learned something in my establishment he leaves and takes a job somewhere else,” he says. He would love to have more personnel like his chef Hari Prasad Dhital, who has been with him for more than a dozen years. That is why he came up with a clause that says the he will withhold 10 percent of his staff’s wages as a sort of guarantee—the employee will get this money only after staying two years on the job. “People don’t want to accept this,” he says. Besides, he wants all employees in his restaurant to do whatever duty there is to do—down to washing dishes and cleaning toilets if necessary. “That’s what I do myself,” he explains. But his idea of what work entails of course clashes with the traditional views of how the nature of one’s work is tied to social status among many Nepalis.

Still, Schweiger is happy with the possibities that Nepal has offered him—here, he is free of the countless regulations that hinder businesses in Europe. Back in 1990 he founded the Stupa View restaurant in Boudha, the first establishment of its kind in the tourist spot. He later went on to open 12 restaurants in total, among which the Vienna Bakery Café, in Jhamsikhel, is probably the best known. Just last year, he spotted another gap in the market: Bhaisepati had quickly grown into an upper-class residential area, and there wasn’t yet a restaurant targeting the affluent clientele. So he founded Walter’s Mitho Mitho.

The inclusion of his first name helps to attract people, as he is by now a well-known personality in Kathmandu. Besides, a European name functions as a sort of guarantee that the establishment will have the high hygiene standard demanded by expats. The restaurant certainly is clean—upon entering the Mitho Mitho kitchen, the lustre from all the chrome hits your eyes, and the chef’s hat is spotless. Similarly, Driard’s cheese dairy is tiled in white, and he has provided white boots for his staff (although these usually just stand in a corner). Candiani has even been constructing a changing room besides the kitchen of his restaurants to ensure that his staff wear impeccably clean clothes at work. He is very particular about maintaining his high standards regarding hygiene and quality because he wants to cater to Europeans and Americans, many of whom can be finicky. But he hopes that there will also be more and more Nepalis sitting on his bar, enjoying a glass of wine and getting some italianità.