Restaurant Review: Lokál

The newest, best, most must-visit restaurant in the country doesn't have a celebrity chef. It doesn't have white tablecloths, amuses-bouche, or a sommelier. Instead of soufflés, there's smažený sýr (fried cheese); tlačenka (head cheese) takes the place of truffles.

This is Lokál, and it's the restaurant we've all been waiting for.

I probably don't have to tell you how miserable most Czech pub food is these days. The average inexpensive svíčková (beef in cream sauce) goes something like this: a rock-hard, dry piece of beef, smothered in a watery brown sauce, with a few stale knedlíky (bread dumplings) on the side. No wonder so many foreign visitors shudder at the memory of Czech food.

Those of us who didn't grow up weaned on the Maggi bottle, whose mothers and grandmothers cooked their national dishes with pride, know a different kind of local cuisine – one that lives on in our kitchens at home, but has all but disappeared from pubs and restaurants. Until now, anyway.

A plate of svíčková at Lokál costs 115 CZK, plus 28 CZK for the dumplings (all sides are served separately). For 100g of meat, it's more than you'd pay in most pubs, but the difference is startling. The beef was so tender it pulled apart easily under my fork. The dumplings were light and fluffy. And the sauce, tasting strongly of freshly pureed vegetables, was bright yellow and richly sweet. The dish was served with the traditional topping of whipped cream, cranberries, and a slice of lemon.

Tradition is a priority for Lokál, along with freshness, authenticity, and honesty. The inscription of the bottom of their (daily changing) menu explains their ideology best: "We want to cook Czech dishes differently than most pubs - places where hard work and fresh food are replaced with spices, flavorings, fats, ingredients that 'last forever,' and other cheap tricks used to make cooking faster, cheaper, and easier." What took them so long?

Lokál is the brainchild of Tomáš Karpíšek, the founder of the Ambiente Group and the Czech restaurant market's most brilliant innovator. He's achieved success with his chains of pasta restaurants (Pastacaffe, Ristorante Pasta Fresca) and all-you-can-eat gorgefests (Ambiente Brasileiro, Pizza Nuova). He's promoted Czech food before, too, with the First Republic-inspired Café Savoy and the upscale gourmet favorite La Degustation Boheme Bourgeoise. But Lokál is set to be his biggest, most revolutionary, most important venture yet.

Housed in a massive space off of Dlouhá formerly occupied by Middle Eastern hideaway Dahab (since relocated to nearby Soukenická), Lokál is said to be the longest restaurant in Prague. It has been, despite its size, rammed to the rafters from the day it opened. That's no surprise, really. When was the last time anybody saw rýžový nákyp (Czech rice pudding) on a menu? Or šunkofleky (pasta with smoked ham)? Or škubánky s mákem (sweet noodles with poppy seeds)? Even if you've come across those long-neglected classics once in a while, I guarantee they've never been made this well.

There isn't much to describe about Lokál's food. The plates are kept clean, with garnishes and other unnecessary flourishes kept to a minimum. No wilted oblohy (garnishes) here – just simple, straightforward dishes. My plněný paprikový lusk (stuffed pepper) (99 CZK) was filled with a mix of lean ground beef and marjoram in a sweet tomato sauce. The tatarák (beef tartare) (178 CZK) was made with similarly high-quality meat, pre-mixed to tender perfection, and served alongside crispy topinky(fried toast) and raw cloves of garlic.

That may sound close to what you'd order in any pub, and it is. The difference is in the consistent freshness and quality of Lokál's ingredients – and in the little details, like the homemade, hand-cut noodles in the chicken noodle soup (38 CZK for a pleasantly large portion), or the fresh whipped cream decorating the rakvičky (little meringue "coffins") (28 CZK). Renowned regional companies provide much of the ingredients, and the hotové jídla (pre-prepared dishes) are made from scratch several times a day.

The simplicity of Lokál's food is reflected in its interior, which, with its stark lighting and long wooden benches, brings to mind a school cafeteria. The only decoration, appropriately enough, are childlike doodles made along the length of the wood-panelled walls, illuminated from behind to create a glowing modern display.

For a Prague 1 restaurant, Lokál is refreshingly and unapologetically Czech: there are no menus in English (or French, or German, or Russian), and there are no conciliatory dishes of spaghetti or hamburgers. All of the drinks, from the tea (black, fruit, or rosehip only) to the hard liquor (Tuzemský Rum, Pražská Vodka, Lokál's own slivovice) to the soft drinks (Kofola, homemade sodas) are from these parts. And the beer (36 CZK for 0.5l) is fantastic: ice-cold Prazdroj, tapped fresh from small tanks, and also available as "Šnit" (a mini beer, to be consumed in one or two gulps) or "Mlíko" (only foam).

The only detail that seemed a little off were the coasters – they were the regular green Pilsner Urquell kind. Shouldn't a Czech restaurant this concerned with tradition have its own coasters, emblazoned with its own logo, as all the pubs used to have in the old days?

I guess I can forgive Lokál that one oversight. They are, after all, the restaurant (and future chain of restaurants) that is single-handedly saving good Czech pub food from near-certain extinction. You might think I'm exaggerating, but try it for yourself. If you don't like it, they'll bring you Maggi to make your meal taste more familiar, and your waiter won't even give you a dirty look: the service is more traditional Ambiente than traditional Czech, and thank God for that.

As for me – and again, no exaggeration – Lokál is the only restaurant that I feel like visiting at the moment. Everyone else peddling Czech food in this country should pay attention – because only now, after so many years of greasy goulashes and salty soups and freezer-burnt knedlíky, is somebody finally doing it right.

Lokál
Dlouhá 33
Praha 1 - Old Town
map
Tel: 222 316 265

Open Mon-Fri 11:00-01:00, Sat 12:00-01:00, Sun 12:00-22:00

photographs 1, 2, 4, 5, 6 Tomáš Krist for Lidové noviny; all others ambi.cz

This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 05/12/09 edition of Lidové Noviny.

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Restaurant Review: Auberge de Provence

This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 29/11/08 edition of Lidové Noviny.

Like bacon and eggs, or beer and pivní sýr, mussels and fries were meant to be together.

There's something about the combination of that soft, briny mollusk with the hot crispiness of a French fry – dipped in tartar sauce, preferably – that many people find irresistible. No wonder the Belgians consider moules frites (or mosselen-friet, in Dutch) their national dish.

But who'd expect to find mussels and fries in the village of Tuchoměřice, home to a population of just over 1000? Or, for that matter, Belgian waffles and a selection of 50 different Belgian beers?

The local splash of Belgianism comes courtesy of Ludo Van den Bergh, the proprietor of an intimate hillside hotel called Auberge de Provence. Located in a 17th-century former Jesuit monastery overlooking Tuchoměřice and beyond, the inn has garnered acclaim not only for its picturesque setting, but for its unique little restaurant, too.

A good measure of a restaurant's atmosphere is how well the ambiance holds up against an empty or near-empty dining room. When my dining companions and I first entered Auberge on a rainy weekday evening, we were the only patrons there, but it hardly mattered. The low wooden beams and stone walls decorated with dry flowers, mounted antlers, and old family photographs gave the place a rustic, cozy feel, like we'd happened upon somebody's private country retreat.

The homey setting is echoed by Auberge's manageably small menu and its country-style Belgian and French dishes, many of which are made with organic vegetables from the hotel garden. A large portion of velvety Belgian pumpkin soup (80 CZK), garnished with grated cheese and a homemade potato chip, was subtly seasoned but tasty; my companion's escargots à la Bourguignonne (235 CZK for 6 pieces; 425 CZK for 12) were plump and chewy and topped by the same sharp cheese as the soup. The Argentinian beef fillet steak (585 CZK) was grilled to a perfect medium-rare and was served with a sauté of roasted potatoes, cherry tomatoes, and leeks.
Then there are those mussels (245 CZK for ½ kg; 480 CZK for 1 kg), unusually large and cooked in a traditional Belgian broth of carrots, celeriac, onions, and garlic. They would have been perfect if only they'd been cleaned of their beards – the long filaments the mussel uses to attach itself to the seabed, which should always be removed before cooking. As it was, I had to pull each of the hairy clumps from my mouth in a rather unladylike way. The uniform cut of the fries suggested that they were not home-made, but the store-bought frozen kind. Too bad. I can't think of anyplace you can get freshly-made Belgian fries in Prague, and this would be just the right setting for that kind of treat.

So I was mildly disappointed by the moules frites, but what with the size and freshness of the mussels, I would order them again. And I'd make sure to revisit dessert, too. The Brussels waffle (130 CZK) was the real thing: light and yeasty, not dense and sweet the way many of us might think of waffles. It arrived dusted with powdered sugar and decorated with a generous amount of forest berries, although it was missing the vanilla ice cream that was promised on the menu. A baked apple with cinnamon (145 CZK) was also memorable, particularly for its garnish of smoky toffee sauce.

It is the rare restaurant these days that doesn't offer panna cotta or crème brulée or warm chocolate cake. And there are no fussy foams, complicated combinations, or precarious architectural creations, either. All of those have their place, of course, but I've started to wonder lately if poorly-executed chichi food has become the compulsory culinary style for our upper-scale restaurants. If it has, then Auberge de Provence hasn't gotten the memo. They're doing something different, making the kind of straightforward, rustic fare that people really crave.
The service at Auberge was welcoming and natural. When the waiter asked if we wanted any aperitifs and, later, digestifs, he did so without being pushy – I am sick to death of servers who, when I decline their offer of an aperitif, start rattling off a list of various alcohols ("Champagne? Campari? Martini?") as if they were quoting a bartending school textbook. The kitchen occasionally seemed a little slow, which makes me concerned about what the service might be like when the dining room is full, but I'm assuming that the restaurant is better-staffed over the weekends.

It ought to be, anyway. Auberge has live music on Friday and Saturday nights, and things get a little more rowdy then, as they do when the hotel hosts one of its many conferences and weddings. And with a children's menu and outdoor playground, it's a popular place for families to visit, as well. In the summertime, there's terrace seating and an outdoor grill, but with its cast-iron furnace and snug interior, the restaurant is just as appealing for the wintertime (and special menus will be on offer for Christmas and New Year's Eve).
It took me a long time to discover Auberge de Provence. Although I'd heard about the restaurant before, I was never in the mood to make the trip. Let me give you some advice: make the trip. It's just past Ruzyně airport, but it feels like a different country altogether.


Auberge de Provence
U Špejcharu 355
Tuchoměřice, Praha-západ
map
Tel.: 220 951 083

Open Mon-Sun 11:00-23:00

photographs 1, 4, 5, 6 Viktor Chlad for Lidové Noviny; all others tuchomerice.cz

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Restaurant Review: Potrefená Husa

This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 11/10/08 edition of Lidové Noviny.

As I'm tucking in to my řízek dinner at the newest branch of Potrefená Husa, I receive a text message from a friend. "At Husa," he writes. "Want to come by?"

I look around the restaurant. My friend is nowhere to be seen. "Which Husa?" I reply.

If that anecdote doesn't sound familiar to you yet, it will soon enough. I can't be the only one who's been getting the sense that it's impossible to walk five blocks in any direction in the center of Prague without coming across a Staropramen -branded restaurant.

The brewery's concept – a chain of modern franchised pubs that are pricier than your average hospoda but offer quality beer, good food, and friendly service – has proven to be an enormous success. The first Potrefená Husa (which opened in Vinohrady in 1999) was quickly followed by sister restaurants in Plzeň and Liberec. And over the past couple of years, new Husas have been appearing in cities across the Czech Republic with terrifying speed.

A well-run franchise operation guarantees its customers a certain level of consistency from location to location. A Big Mac is going to taste the same whether you're in Brno or San Francisco – in theory, anyway. Fast food lovers like to debate which parts of the world have the best-tasting McDonald's food (Asia, I've heard) and the worst (definitely America, at least in my limited experience).

It's a similar story with Potrefená Husa. Some Husas are better than others. And not all of the individual restaurants manage to keep up the level of quality their corporate overlords expect.

The recently-opened Husa on Platnéřská, for example, seems to have a higher standard of food service than most of its counterparts. Unfortunately, it lacks the atmosphere of the nearby branch on Bílkova – which, after an apparent change in management, has lately become home to some incompetent and surly staff. And unlike at McDonald's, the burger present on most (if not all) Husa menus is completely different from location to location.

So where does the latest incarnation of this Czech pub chain stand among its counterparts? For now, at least, I'd say it's somewhere near the top of the pack.

The Husa I'm referring to is on the corner of Hybernská and Dlážděná, just adjacent to the Masarykovo train station at a spot formerly occupied by a very sketchy Chinese bufet. It's the twenty-fifth Husa to date, and also the largest, seating around 200 people on three floors. Huge windows shine plenty of light on the by now familiar style of décor: a long bar at the front, raised wooden tables, and yellow linoleum floors. Upstairs is a kind of mezzanine with comfortable lounge chairs, and the basement houses a cozy beer cellar with room for 100 customers.

As far as I'm concerned, though, this Husa's claim to fame isn't its size, but its service. All of the servers (and there were lots of them – Husas tend to be well-staffed) I encountered during my visits were not only cordial, but downright enthusiastic. They went out of their way to greet us when we entered the restaurant, they moved with a sense of urgency, and they systematically stopped by our table to ask if everything was all right after we had gotten our food. That last gesture is standard practice in American restaurants and one that should be adopted here more often – a quick check-in allows the customer to ask for that missing fork or a second Mattoni or to have their steak thrown back on the grill.

And, crucially, they weren't annoying. We didn't have waiters hovering around our table or filling up my water glass every time I took a sip; they simply went about their business politely and efficiently. Even the waitress who had an "In training" badge pinned to her shirt was better than most servers I've come across lately. I wouldn't mind sending a few managers of high-end Prague restaurants to Potrefená Husa to see how proper staff training is done.

The news isn't all good in the food department: a chicken broth featured overcooked noodles and peas so hard you could break your teeth on them, the svíčková na smetaně's meat was pretty tough to swallow, and the hamburgers come with cucumbers instead of pickles. But as I've found with every Husa I've visited, there are always a couple of gems on the menu. You just need to figure out what they are.

So far, I've managed to unearth a few goodies at the Hybernská location. One of them is the chicken schnitzel with mashed potatoes and cucumber salad (129 CZK) – a simple dish cooked well, with the chicken freshly fried in clean oil and the mash fluffy and rich -- a great comfort food. The koprová omáčka (beef with dill sauce) I tried as a lunch special falls into that category, too. I'd also recommend the beef carpaccio with arugula, capers, olives, and parmesan (179 CZK), and the fresh strawberries marinated in Grand Marnier served with a scoop of creamy chocolate ice cream (89 CZK).

Old-school pub-goers have been known to grumble about the Husification of Czech pubs, and there is something to their complaints. It can be disheartening to see a classic neighborhood watering hole displaced by a corporate franchise outlet that will look and feel just about the same as twenty-four others (and counting).

But there's a plus side to Husa's presence in our restaurant market, too. When the world's first gastropub, The Eagle, was opened in London's Clerkenwell in 1991, its owners expressed a desire to promote good-quality food in places where ordinary people liked to hang out. At that time, English cuisine was widely considered to be inedible. Now, countless gastropubs and a handful of celebrity chefs later, the U.K. is at the forefront of high-end gastronomy.

We won't necessarily see the same kind of phenomenon happening in the Czech Republic, but there are already signs that all those Husas are having an influence. The food at the famed U Zlatého Tygra pub, for example, used to be absolutely inedible. Now, for 85 CZK, they serve some of the best roast beef in town. I can't vouch for the rest of their menu, but still – awesome beer and great beef? I'm not going to argue with that kind of change.

And neither should you.

Potrefená Husa
Dlážděná 1003/7
Praha 1 – Nové Město
map
Open Sun – Thurs 11.00 - 24.00, Fri – Sat 11.00 - 01.00
Tel.: 224 243 631

images: Staropramen.cz, Prague Spoon

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Food news: Food and drink fests, and a sweet new hideaway for Luka Lu

Official dates have been announced for the second annual Prague Food Festival, with the feasting set for a few months earlier this time around. From June 20th to the 22nd, you'll be able to sample selected delicacies from some of the city's finest restaurants, including Aromi, Allegro, Essensia, maze, and The Sushi Bar, under open summer skies at Žofín on Slovanský Island. Tickets should be on sale soon.

And there's a whole new kind of food fest coming to Prague this year, too: the Czech Beer Festival, which is touting itself as the largest gastronomic event in the Czech Republic. With an enormous supply of beer to be tapped into glass mugs, an extensive menu of local specialties, and an anticipated attendance of 150,000 - 200,000 visitors, the 10-day guzzlathon promises to be every bit as raucous and sloppy as Munich's famed Oktoberfest. Still, its organizers insist that they plan on encouraging the "sensible and cultural consumption of beer." We'll see how well that goes for them...

On a recent trip to Balkan restaurant Luka Lu (formerly Louka Lu), I discovered that they've transformed the drab courtyard out back into a picturesque winter garden. It's quite removed from the front part of the restaurant, so you really have to know the room is there in order to find it, but it's really adorable and cozy -- definitely worth a special visit. Go have a look and let me know what you think.

images: praguefoodfestival.cz, staropramen.cz, lukalu.cz

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