This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 09/05/09 edition of Lidové Noviny.
The first thing wrong with 7 Tacos is that they don't know how to make a taco.
From a mountain of iceberg lettuce and grated cheese, I excavated three rolled-up, deep-fried small corn tortillas. This sort of dish is generally known as taquitos, or flautas when they are made with wheat flour tortillas. It is a variation on the taco, yes, but a taco it is not.
I might have been more forgiving if "taco" wasn't the title dish of the restaurant. And it took me a little while to figure out where the number "7" came from. Was it the amount of tacos served on each
plate? The fact that the restaurant is in Holešovice? As it turns out, the 7 comes from the number of taco variations available: you can have them filled with either vegetables, chicken, pork, beef, shrimp, beans and bacon, or a dubious-sounding "caprese" mixture.
I went with the bean filling (105 CZK) – kidney beans in some sort of sauce with a little bit of bacon thrown in. Along with the aforementioned mass of lettuce, the taquitos came with refried beans and a scoop of dry rice. It wasn't terrible, which is more than you could say for the burritos.
Before the most offensive dish even arrived at the table, I was already having a bit of a guilty conscience. I'd convinced three friends to come out to far-off Holešovice (and one of them to drive me there) based solely on my promise that we were about to eat some really good Mexican food. I felt pretty confident about it because I'd read a positive review of 7 Tacos written by an apparent Californian – and if anyone knows Mexican food outside of Mexico, it's the people from Cali.
As it happened, one of my friends who came along is a Californian herself and something of a Mexican food connoisseur. She called me from the restaurant as I was on my way there. "Are you sure you want to eat here?" Uh-oh.
It seemed that the tortilla chips she had ordered were not only from the bag, but were covered in a Dorito-like spice mix. This, according to the Laws of Mexican Food, is illegal (not that you will find homemade tortilla chips anywhere in Prague, but these were of exceptionally bad quality). Unlawful, too, is the use of prepackaged guacamole (35 CZK for a small dish). Now, I don't know for sure that the guac had come from a jar, but the kitchen would have had to perform some serious alchemy to make fresh guacamole so perfectly smooth, green, and tasteless.
The pico de gallo (35 CZK), on the other hand, was fresh – at least relatively speaking. It consisted of chopped-up onions and tomatoes that were pretty much identical in color and equally lacking in flavor; either they were on the old side or they had been sitting around, chopped up and ready to be served, for a very long time. Other dipping delights included runny cheese from the can and, inexplicably, barbecue sauce (also 35 CZK each). The only authentic condiment in the whole place was the bottle of Cholula hot sauce that graced our table, good for combating the food's general blandness.
If it's done right, of course, Mexican food should be anything but bland. Try telling that to whoever puts together 7 Tacos's burritos. I didn't order one, but two of my companions did, one chicken and the other beef (155 and 185 CZK), and both declared them the worst burritos they'd ever had in their lives.
Why were the burritos so bad? The beef version was low on meat; there were just a few specks of ground beef in a tortilla filled mostly with a flavorless combination of cooked onions and bell peppers. There was a little bit of crunchy rice and a couple of beans. And then there was some pickled cactus – too much, apparently, because it made the whole burrito taste sour, like it had been dipped into the dregs of a pickle jar. I shouldn't have expected anything less of a Mexican restaurant that has řízek on its menu.
7 Tacos is located in the lobby of the Plaza Alta Hotel. To enter the restaurant, you walk through what feels like a cheap hotel bar, with its flatscreen TV, low tables, and tan leather armchairs. The dining area itself is decorated with the standard-issue Mexican restaurant gear: ponchos, tequila ads, a sombrero. There's a small children's playroom, which is nice until you consider that it is directly adjacent to the restaurant's smoking area. In case you were wondering, it is not worth coming to 7 Tacos for the atmosphere alone.
Yet again, a Prague Mexican restaurant had brought disappointment, even disgust, to me and my taco-craving friends. So the next night, we decided to correct our mistake. We went to Fosil – a restaurant that has already been discussed on this page at some length, so I won't go too far into my dinner there. But I will say that they have a new menu and the meal was very good. And although it isn't perfect, Fosil is definitely worth a try, if only to taste Mexican food made by real flesh-and-blood Mexicans (I have heard that the delivery service Las Adelitas, also run by Mexicans, is tasty, but I haven't been able to get a hold of them yet).
From now on, I only want to go to authentic Mexican places like Fosil. There are just way too many Czexican chefs in this town who think they can cook up great Mexican food using jarred salsa and some Vitana-brand tortillas. If I was in Mexico, I wouldn't trust some guy named Pepe to make me a good Czech meal from a can of guláš. And I'm not going to trust Jirka at 7 Tacos with my burrito, either.
7 Tacos
Ortenovo náměstí 22
Praha 7 - Holešovice
map
Tel: 220 407 011
Open daily 06:30-23:00
photographs: 1, 3, 4 Tomáš Krist for Lidové Noviny; all others 7tacos.cz
Monday, June 1, 2009
Restaurant Review: 7 Tacos
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Food news: Buddha Bar opens, Prague discovers fusion food, and a Czech team debuts at the Bocuse
Last Thursday, the long-awaited Buddha Bar Hotel held a massive grand openin
g party -- an affair notable for its many czelebrity attendees, a live electric violin interpretation of Metallica, and some very uninspired hors d'oeuvres (tomato and mozzarella balls on toothpicks, for one). The Buddha Bar Restaurant and its upstairs lunch spot, Siddharta Café, are ready for business, too, offering fancily-priced Asian food along with Caesar salads, club sandwiches, and other room service standards.
Around the corner from Buddha Bar, another newly-opened upscale hotel, the Barcelo, has introduced a fusion restaurant of its own: Zlatý Anděl Fusion Restaurant & Café. The kitchen is headed up by the respected French chef Martial Clement, who recently bailed on his short-lived post at Zahrada v Opeře. No word yet on who will replace Mr. Clement in the RFE building restaurant.
Pish-posh members' club LS Club will officially launch this month in the Old Town space formerly occupied by La Scene and (later) La Scena. Its amenities are to include a Library, Crystal Bar, and a signature eatery, Restaurant Shiso. The restaurant will be run by freshly-imported English chef Paul Day -- who specializes, naturally, in Asian cuisine.
Kampa Park sous chef Jan Všetečka traveled to Lyon last week to represent the Czech Republic in the final round of the prestigious international cooking competition Bocuse d'Or. Všetečka and his team placed fourteenth out of twenty-four countries, a very respectable ranking for the first Czech team ever to participate in the Bocuse. 2009's top honors went to Norway (gold), Sweden (silver), and France (bronze).
photos: buddha-bar-hotel.cz, barcelo.com, lsclub.cz, bocusedor.com
Monday, December 22, 2008
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 hill
side 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
Monday, September 8, 2008
Restaurant Review: Piano Nobile @ Chateau Mcely
This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 30/08/08 edition of Lidové Noviny.
Since its opening in May 2006, much has been written about Chateau Mcely in the Czech press – and for good reason. Many have deemed the transformation of this crumbling 17th-century chateau into a glamorous boutique hotel to be nothing short of a miracle, and a look through the before and after pictures of the renovation makes it easy to see why.
But the real driving force behind Chateau Mcely's success is much more tangible than a supposed miracle, although in the Czech Republic it is no less rare. The hotel is a bona fide labor of love, the result of years of careful planning and passionate dedication on the part of owners Inez and James Cusumano.
The Cusumanos' meticulous attention to detail is clear from the first glimpse of Mcely's immaculate front lawn dotted with a small flock of picturesque wooden sheep. This couple knows that i
n order to create a truly special experience, it's not enough to simply shower a business with money and hope it will sprout customers. A lot of crowns have been spent on this project, to be sure, but more important is the palpable amount of time and energy expended on making visitors to Mcely as comfortable as possible.
Aside from its status as one of only two European five star "green" hotels, meaning that it operates with maximum consideration for the environment, the 24-room Chateau Mcely has also earned the distinction of being named one of the Small Luxury Hotels of the World. It's a true boutique hotel, with intimate service (a personalized welcome letter awaited us in our room) and unusual amenities (dogs receive first-class treatment here; they receive a toy, blanket, and pillow upon arrival and even have their own menu).
It's this heartfelt attitude that allowed even an old cynic like me to overlook the occasional sickly-sweet detail during my one-night stay at Mcely, such as the repetition of the hotel's printed motto ("honey, silk, and pearls") at every turn, or the mildly cheesy quotes written alongside each dish listed on the menu ("Dover sole served with health, flavor, and real SOUL"). My heart was positively melted by Chateau Mcely's natural warmth and charm.
Unfortunately, it hardened again slightly during my main course at the hotel restaurant, Piano Nobile. The food was by no means terrible, but it didn't quite measure up to the standard set by the rest of the chateau. My entrée of pigeon roasted in wine (610 CZK and apparently made according to "an old castle recipe") was unexciting at best. The bird itself was bland and dry, and the sauce it came with was so over-seasoned that the chanterelle mushrooms couldn't be tasted at all.
The pigeon did come with a nice herbed potato puree – so nice, I suppose, that the chef felt compelled to serve the same potatoes alongside my companion's entrée, the Argentinian beef sirloin (810 CZK). With their dollops of mashed potatoes and brown gravies, the main courses ended up looking very similar to one another. In a restaurant at this price level (and at a hotel of this caliber), that sort of repetition shouldn't happen. The beef, for its part, was of good quality and – amazingly in a country where steaks are so often overdone – cooked medium-rare according to my friend's specification.
As seems to be the case in many restaurants I've eaten at lately, Piano Nobile's appetizers outshone its entrées. The soup of the day, a carrot-orange puree (250 CZK), had a beautiful saffron-yellow color and a flavor just as bright, thanks in part to the fact that it was made without cream. A chanterelle risotto (330 CZK, or 590 CZK as a main course) was rich and cheesy and tasted strongly of forest mushrooms. And a roasted red mullet served with cucumber relish and green salad (330 CZK) was light and delicious.
So it wasn't all bad, though the desserts could have been better, too. The lime crème brûlée (210 CZK) was pretty dismal; for once, the sugar crust on top was nicely browned, but the consistency of the cream was too mushy, and the lime flavor should have been infused into the milk (there were overpowering slivers of candied lime rind in the cream instead). I wasn't a big fan of the poached pear dessert (240 CZK), either, which with its caramel, cognac, and clove flavoring seemed far too Christmasy for a summertime menu.
Like the rest of Chateau Mcely, Piano Nobile has a memorable atmosphere. The style is both classic and contemporary, elegant and relaxed. A dresser lined with custom-made plates by designer Oto Bláha sits against one wall, and a grand piano, covered in photo albums, rests in a corner. Plush fabrics, candelabras, and gentle classical music make for a romantic atmosphere. The lighting was a little too dim for my taste, but of course I was there to examine the food, not gaze into the eyes of my lover – though if that's what you're into, Mcely is definitely the place to do it.
To my relief, the service wasn't pompous or overbearing, as can sometimes happen in noble-esque establishments. All of the staff I encountered during my stay were helpful, polite, and relaxed, and seemed willing to go the extra mile to accommodate their guests' needs. Nothing, it seemed, was a problem.
That sort of thing is why, in spite of the problems with the kitchen, I am sure I will visit Chateau Mcely again. It is a uniquely beautiful place, and we are lucky to have it in such close proximity to our capital city. If the restaurant could kick it up a notch, it would be a truly phenomenal destination.
I'm confident that Piano Nobile's weaknesses will be overcome, mostly because I get the feeling that this is one restaurant whose owners aren't averse to a little constructive criticism. When somebody cares as much about their customers' satisfaction as the Cusumanos and their staff obviously do, they are constantly looking for ways to improve.
And that – at least for me – is the true miracle of Chateau Mcely.
Piano Nobile (Chateau Mcely)
Club Hotel and Forest Retreat
Mcely 61
Mcely
map
Tel.: +420 325 600 000
images: chateaumcely.com
