It seldom seems to happen – in this country, anyway – that a restaurant's best asset is its kitchen. Lots of places are long on atmosphere, and nowadays you can even count on reasonably good service at most higher-end restaurants. But good chefs are still few and far between.
One of the exceptions is U Emy Destinnové, whose owner and head chef Steven Trumpfheller outclasses both his restaurant's location and its waitstaff. His menu is eclectic but not unfocused, a mix of mostly American and Italian-style classics.
I just can't g
et over the pumpkin risotto (180 CZK) I had there the other night. Creamy without being too heavy, the dish was a perfect balance of flavors. That was also because of one other crucial addition: bacon, fried to near crispiness (this is an American chef, after all, who knows how to cook his bacon) and folded into the risotto in small pieces. The fact is that bacon will make more or less any dish taste better – I recently sampled some bacon-flavored chocolate, and I loved it – but in the risotto, combined with the pumpkin's distinctive sweetness and the sharp tang of Parmesan, it was a truly inspired combo.
I couldn't say as much for U Emy Destinnové's interior design. Before the restaurant's recent renovation, it had a quirky, old-fashioned living room feel to it, with lots of strange knickknacks and some ratty gray couches left over from its previous incarnation as Czech restaurant JB Club. The getup felt a bit inappropriate for the food, to be sure, so a refurb was definitely in order. Now, the place has been tidied up and the couches have been reupholstered, but it's lost some of its charm. The beige walls are a little drab, and the maroon-colored runners over the tables feel out of date, like something you'd find in an old hotel restaurant in Communist-era Czechoslovakia.
On my second visit, there was a massive group dinner taking up the whole of the large front room (U Emy Destinnové offers several banquet menus), so my friends and I were seated in the little room in the back. That would have been perfectly cozy if we hadn't been within spitting distance of the bathrooms – they were separated from us by a partition wall, but every time someone left the toilet door open we were washed over by a familiar, unpleasant aroma. Because there was no self-closing mechanism on the bathroom doors, one of us would have to get up and shut them ourselves – and I don't especially like playing toilet porter on an evening out to dinner.
Then there was the problem of the lights being too dim, making it hard to read the menu and see the food properly. And although live piano music is a nice idea, this particular piano player didn't really do it for me. His style was aggressive and unpleasant, not fading gently into the background as it should have, but overriding our conversation. Moreover, he had a creepy habit of staring directly at me and my female friend for long periods of time as he played.
During earlier, pre-renovation visits to U Emy Destinnové, I remember being bowled over by the service. This time, it wasn't bad by any means – particularly on my first visit, when the waiter was impressively on point – but it did occasionally seem slightly amateurish. During the first evening, the server eagerly told us what dishes they had available as specials, but on the second, I had to ask if they had any specials before he thought to tell us. And I found their rattling off of all the aperitifs they had on offer (even when we had already declined) a little annoying.
Still, I was impressed with how timely the service was, even with that massive group in the front room. I had been dismayed when we first walked in that night – usually, kitchens get overwhelmed by the demands of the banquet and the timing of the smaller tables' meals suffers. But everything came out at just the right moment, and they even found the opportunity to show us the lamb and swordfish they had on special that night.
I had the swordfish in the form of a carpaccio (215 CZK), and it was great – fresh, beautifully sliced, and arranged around a small salad with capers and cherry tomatoes. They have a thing for raw meat here, with three kinds of carpaccio (including bison carpaccio with dried figs and pecorino cheese, 215 CZK), a lamb tartare, and often a couple of additional types of carpaccio on the specials list. But there are other tasty appetizers, too, such as the deep-fried calamari, zucchini, and lemon (155 CZK) or the wild French duck breast with blackberry port wine demi-glaze (175 CZK).
There are a lot of originals here, and having seen the same dishes over and over again on local menus, I can appreciate the ingenuity – especially when it comes out right. The golden capon chicken served over sweet corn relish (230 CZK) was tender and juicy, with browned, crispy skin, and its mildly creamy sweet corn sauce was a nice little bit of Americana to go with it. Paired with some fluffy garlic mashed potatoes (65 CZK), this was real soul food.
So, the American in the basement of famous Czech opera singer Ema Destinnová's birth house can really cook. I'm not totally convinced by his baking (the Philadelphia cheesecake, 105 CZK, had a very soggy crust), but I only managed to sample one dessert. The portions are big, and the prices are remarkably decent. I would urge you to give U Emy Destinnové a chance. Even if a few of the other elements are a little out of place, the food is definitely worth it.
U Emy Destinnové
Kateřinská 7
Praha 2 - Nové Město
map
Tel.: 224 918 425
Open Mon-Fri 11:30-23:30, Sat 18:00-23:30. Closed Sunday.
images 1, 2, 6 Tomáš Krist for Lidové Noviny; all others uemydestinnove.cz
This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 03/10/09 edition of Lidové Noviny.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Restaurant Review: U Emy Destinnové
Friday, October 9, 2009
Las Adelitas to open restaurant in Vinohrady
Looks like Fosil will no longer be the only authentic Mexican restaurant in town.
The popular Mexican food delivery service Las Adelitas has announced it will open its first restaurant this month. There will be a grand opening party on Friday, October 16th -- but they are also holding a "pre-inauguration" party tonight at 8pm, at the new location on Americká 8 in Vinohrady. Delivery is on hold for now, but will restart as soon as the restaurant officially opens.
Margaritas and flautas... yum.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Restaurant Review: Céleste
This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 30/05/09 edition of Lidové Noviny.
The freshly-posted instructions on the outside of the Dancing House are very clear: if you want to get to the top of this icon of modern architecture, you'll have to pay a visit to Céleste first.
The Dancing House is a tricky sort of building. Its towers, nicknamed "Fred and Ginger" for their abstract resemblance to a pair of dancers, are oddly shaped – Ginger, the one made out of glass, is tapered to mimic a woman's form – and its windows are staggered in a wavelike pattern. But Frank O. Gehry's and Vlado Milunić's deconstructivist masterpiece is a risky restaurant location for a different reason: it doesn't get much foot traffic, and there's plenty of the other kind.
To get to the restaurant, you pass through Céleste's small ground-floor bar, where the bartender hits the elevator button and calls upstairs to announce your imminent arrival. And once you're up on the seventh floor, the view is wonderful: the river, the castle, the far-off greenery of Petřín. You'd even forget about the traffic jam downstairs, if you couldn't see a half-kilometer-long line of cars stretching up to Karlovo náměstí.
Céleste is sister to one of Prague's best restaurants, Angel. But here the cuisine is French, not Asian, and the mood is more upscale – white tablecloths, fussier waiters, and slightly higher prices. By
all appearances, Céleste is not dissimilar to the previous tenant, La Perle de Prague, which closed recently after having operated since the Dancing House's completion in 1996.
Yet anyone who has visited both restaurants would surely agree that Céleste is a major step up from the overpriced, uninspired La Perle. The new head chef is Gwendal Le Ruyet, a Frenchman from Brittany who spent five years working under Michelin-starred chef Alain Ducasse, among other prestigious international posts. His cooking – much like that of Sofia Smith, who helms Angel's kitchen – is bold and self-assured, with an emphasis on seasonal ingredients.
One of the waiters recommended that I try the lettuce soup as an appetizer, but there was no need; I had been planning on ordering it anyway. I really like cold soups, and this one sounded especially intriguing: a velouté of spring lettuce with pan-seared escargots and tarragon foam (275 CZK). The soup itself turned out to be a rich spinach-green color, full of the snappy flavor of fresh lettuce but slightly under-salted – which didn't really matter because the escargots were very savory (they also, for some reason, seemed to taste mildly of bacon). Some fresh shredded lettuce leaves and a few crunchy miniature croutons added texture to this well-balanced dish.
This is modern French cooking at its best. Le Ruyet has preserved the classic culinary techniques and rich sauces of his predecessors, but the dishes are lighter, more pared-down. He often does away with carbohydrates completely: the preparation of a pan-seared cod fillet (450 CZK as part of a two-course lunch menu; 550 CZK for three courses) cleverly evoked a classic beef Bourguignon, with its thick red wine sauce, pearl onions, and button mushrooms, but there were no potatoes to weigh the meal down.
Another fish dish, the sturgeon fillet (625 CZK) was similarly fresh-tasting and very appropriate for the spring season. It was served with pink grapefruit and fresh radishes, along with a green pea puree that was a nice homage to mushy peas (typically found next to fish and chips in English pubs). The sturgeon was perfectly cooked, but the citrus sauce it came with had an unpleasantly bitter aftertaste, as if some lemon rind had gotten in there by accident.
If you are a die-hard carbohydrate lover, don't worry: Céleste makes their own bread, and it is excellent. We were offered a choice of rosemary, white sesame with onion, black sesame, and rye flavors. Finally, an upscale restaurant that doesn't get its bread from the Mansson bakery like everybody else.
Céleste seems determined to do things differently, and better. Their dessert menu is full of unusual surprises, like the heavenly purple pears with red wine granita, mascarpone, and salted Brittany biscuit (195 CZK). My dinner companion said his roasted lamb with daikon radish and artichokes (595 CZK) was the best he'd ever had in this country, and the server proudly explained that it was organic Moravian lamb, not meat that had been shipped in from New Zealand or elsewhere. And they even offer Mattoni and Bonaqua along with the pricier imported waters.
On both my visits, the service was very good, if a little over-eager. Because I was recognized by a waiter who knew me from my frequent visits to Angel, I can't say for sure that it would be the same for other customers. But I have no doubt that the servers at Céleste will be professional and friendly to everyone who walks into their refined purple and gray-themed dining room.
When you do visit, ask to sit in the "Ginger" section of the restaurant, which is surrounded by glass and has a clearer view. Or, better yet, arrange an evening in their private dining room upstairs, which is absolutely stunning and can seat anywhere from two to twenty people. From there, you can walk out onto the circular terrace that crowns the Fred tower and look out across the city in the fresh air.
When you leave, of course, you'll be walking back into that big intersection. Not the most inspiring setting for a post-dinner walk – but by then, you'll be so drunk on lovely food and magical views that you won't even care.
Céleste Restaurant & Bar
Tančící dům
Rašínovo nábřeží 80
Praha 2 – Nove Mesto
map
Tel: 221 98 41 60
Open Mon-Sat 12:00-14:30, 18:30-22:30. Closed Sunday.
photographs: 1, 3, 4 Tomáš Krist for Lidové Noviny; all others celesterestaurant.cz
Monday, June 8, 2009
Restaurant Review: Kri-Kri
This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 23/05/09 edition of Lidové Noviny.
I'm sitting in Kri-Kri, a small Greek restaurant in Vinohrady, and my companion and I are very hungry. We've been waiting what feels like forever for our appetizers – dishes that are cold and should already be pre-made, so we can't imagine what the hold-up is. Finally, the server approaches us with three plates. Ah, the relief!
But no. We hadn't ordered the grilled feta cheese or the spinach pie. We watch as the food is redirected to the people sitting next to us, who definitely arrived after we did, because we had almost sat a
t their table when we first came in.
Our food does come, eventually, after our neighbors have already cleaned their plates. One of our dishes, an eggplant spread (65 CZK), requires pita bread to be eaten, but we had forgotten to order it and weren't asked if we wanted any. We order it now, but it takes so long to arrive that by the time it does, we have finished off the eggplant entirely.
The other table also gets their entrées before we do. As we wait, a waitress comes by and asks if everything is all right. "Yes," my companion says, "but it would be better if we had our food."
"Come on now, we're in Greece!" the waitress laughs. "Everything's chill! You know, one Greek minute." She strolls off, shaking her blond curls as she goes.
Now, I don't know what "one Greek minute" is supposed to mean exactly, but I'm guessing it has something to do with the fact that things move more slowly down in the Mediterranean. So by my estimation, a minute in Greece would translate roughly to a half hour in the Czech Republic. In that case, it took four Greek minutes for us to eat two courses at Kri-Kri. I was not willing to wait around for dessert.
Despite its spaced-out service, Kri-Kri has quickly become a hopping little spot. It helps that the prices are reasonable and the food is mostly decent, and sometimes it is even very good. On a second visit, I fell in love with the shrimp saganaki (105 CZK), which were cooked in a light tomato sauce with feta cheese and green peppers and spiced with a little bit of the quintessential licorice-flavored Greek spirit, Ouzo. I was also pleasantly surprised by the dakos (60 CZK), a very dry, hard bread topped with tomatoes and goat cheese. The tzatziki (60 CZK) was great, too – packed with garlic and made with thick Greek yoghurt.
The server made a fairly big show of the kleftiko (210 CZK), a lamb dish cooked in baking paper with potatoes, vegetables, feta, and spices. In Greek, kleftiko means "stolen meat"; according to legend, the dish was invented by thieves who would steal a lamb from a grazing flock and slow-cook the meat in a hole in the ground, covered up with mud so the smoke wouldn't give them away. When he brought the kleftiko to the table, the waiter loosened the string holding the paper together so that my friend could "smell the aroma of the herbs inside" (this was accompanied by an instructive hand gesture). But for all the hubbub about its scent, the dish inside the paper was disappointingly bland and the lamb was as tough as beef jerky.
My stifado (185 CZK), on the other hand, had a dark, rich tomato sauce, tender morsels of beef, and some sweet pearl onions. It didn't come with a side, but I soaked up the thick stew with some toasted pita bread – which, on this visit, the waiter brought without my even asking for it. This was a really nice dish, especially considering its below-average price tag.
Another entrée, the chicken souvlaki (170 CZK) brought back some pleasant memories of New York City's late-night Greek diners. I often had the dish there as comfort food, and it was served similarly here – with pita bread, French fries, and tzatziki. The meat wasn't exactly bursting with flavor, but it was satisfying enough that I would order it again.
As a reminder of its central theme, Kri-Kri is decorated with various Greek knickknacks, including framed photographs of soaring cliffs and sandy beaches. The tables are made of dark wood, and the paper place mats, napkins, and menus are in bright primary colors, which is nice (though the menu printed in red is very hard to read in the restaurant's dim light, and I failed to understand why there was a pile of crunched-up used place mats displayed in one corner).
The overall mood in Kri-Kri is that of a Mediterranean hospoda, which I guess equates to the traditional Greek taverna; it's a little dark and a little dingy, but it still has a nice warmth. Oh, and the place has one more thing in common with the pub down the street – its toilets, at least when I saw them last, are less than spotless. That never bodes too well for the kitchen's hygiene standards, but sometimes you have to force yourself not to think unsavory thoughts.
It's worth mentioning that the house wine at Kri-Kri is cheap and surprisingly potable. You may end up ordering a lot of it, depending on how long you have to wait for your meal. Or maybe I was just unlucky – on my second visit, things seemed to go a lot more smoothly. Although when I checked my watch as we were leaving, I clocked the same time that I had a few nights before: two hours for two courses.
To me, that seems like a lot. But maybe I should start readjusting myself to run on Greek time. Apparently, the people down there are a lot more relaxed.
Kri-Kri
Korunní 48
Praha 2 – Vinohrady
map
Tel: 222 540 400
photographs: 1, 4, 5 Tomáš Krist for Lidové Noviny; all others kri-kri.cz
Monday, April 27, 2009
Restaurant Review: L'Ardoise
This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 11/04/09 edition of Lidové Noviny.
The scallops would have been perfect if they weren't gritty.
They were part of an unusual dish: seared scallops with galettes and poached pears (360 CZK). A galette is a savory buckwheat pancake native to Brittany, and its grainy texture was a nice contrast with the slippery smoothness of the scallop meat.
In theory, anyway. These mollusks hadn't been properly rinsed, so they tasted like they had been battered in sand – not my favorite method of scallop preparation. It was really a shame, because without the grit, the dish would have been memorably tasty (by the way, check out La Crêperie in Holešovice if you want to try inexpensive galettes made in the more traditional way).
L'Ardoise is owned by a Frenchman named Alexandre Déon – son of well-known writer Michel Dé
on – who settled in Prague after meeting his wife on a local film set (Déon's other career is in the movie industry). The small Vinohrady restaurant, first opened in September of 2006, has recently reopened after a brief hiatus.
I never visited L'Ardoise before its closure, so I don't know if there have been any major changes in the interim. But what greeted me when I first came in was a pleasantly-lit corner restaurant, decorated with beige leather banquettes, white tablecloths, and colorful paintings by Italian artist Franco Hüller. There were also a few shelves of antique Czech toys – cars, puppets, and dollhouse furniture.
The welcome was pleasant, too; a friendly waiter took our coats and asked which section we would prefer. Since the restaurant was more or less empty, we had our pick: smoking or non. Since I always prefer non-smoking, that's where we went. On my first visit, there was no problem, but on my second, the non-smoking area was distinctly, well… smoky. Not actively smoky, but it smelled as if it had been smoked in recently. During a late-night party, perhaps? Or maybe the fumes had just wafted over from the other side of the restaurant. Oh well. It wasn't too offensive – it just made the air a little stale.
The menu at L'Ardoise is small, and during my dinner visit, there was only one special: some kind of veal liver dish that the server didn't voluntarily describe and seemed a little hesitant about. We didn't order it.
There is a fair amount of veal on the menu, by the way – two of six entrees, which is a little unusual. I ordered the veal cheeks (380 CZK). Veal is the most tender kind of meat, and the cheeks are one of its most delicate muscles, so even if you've never had veal cheeks before, you can imagine just how wonderful they can be. Each morsel of meat flaked off the fork, and the thin ripples of cheek fat added a luscious creaminess to every bite. The cheeks were served in a thick brown gravy and with a small side (a little too small, perhaps) of gratinated potatoes and some mildly sad-looking vegetables.
The same vegetables accompanied my companion's salmon millefeuille (310 CZK) – a dish that came with some tough-looking, almost cookie-like pastries that she didn't like. A different companion made the wrong choice, too, when he opted for a lunch menu (390 CZK for appetizer and main course) featuring some baked gnocchi that were so overcooked they were more like mashed potatoes than pasta. They came in a heavy cream sauce, baked with parmesan. Not much imagination, and not much flavor, either.
The vegetable soup (90 CZK) was very bland too, although I did appreciate the fact that it had just the right amount of creaminess and was sprinkled with some crispy fried onions (the onions were also used in several other dishes I tried). And although it isn't always perfect, the food at L'Ardoise does have a fresh simplicity that I like. They don't do too much to their food; in some cases, they let you play with it instead.
That's how the beef entrecôte (490 CZK) was served – a massive slab of meat with just a little seasoning on it. The beef came with various sides: boiled new potatoes, herb butter, a small dish of sea salt, and two kinds of French mustard. The steak was medium rare, as I had ordered it, but it was cooked unevenly. Some portions of it were dripping with blood, which should never really happen even if the steak was ordered rare.
Even if the previous courses were a little hit or miss, the desserts were a pleasant surprise. A chocolate fondant (160 CZK), dubbed something like "hot chocolate love" by our waiter, was baked to perfection, and the tarte tatin (a traditional French caramelized apple tart) was accompanied by an aromatic scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream. When, on my second visit, my companion and I chose not to order dessert, they brought us something sweet anyway – a spoonful of dark chocolate mousse with a dab of white chocolate mousse and a small homemade cookie. It was just the thing to hit the spot, and to make me want to order a whole portion of mousse on my next visit.
The way I see it, L'Ardoise is a good little neighborhood restaurant with the occasional good dish. It's not really a destination spot, but it's a place you might want to go if you live in the area or happen to be passing by. I can see it being especially attractive in the spring and summertime, when people can sip vintages on their large outdoor terrace. By then, maybe they'll have fixed a few of the kinks in their kitchen.
L'Ardoise
Bruselská 7
Praha 2 - Vinohrady
map
Tel.: 222 524 102
photographs 1, 3, 4 František Vlček for Lidové Noviny; all others ardoise.cz
Monday, April 20, 2009
Restaurant Review: Masala
This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 04/04/09 edition of Lidové Noviny.
It would be easy to confuse Masala with a restaurant in New York or London. That is not to say it possesses any qualities particular to either of those cities – other than the fact that the language spoken there is almost exclusively English.
Masala may be located in the Czech capital, but over the year and a half of its operation, it has cultivated a mostly expatriate clientele. It isn't unusual to hear no Czech spoken at all during a meal there, and while foreigners all seem to be in on the Masala secret, few Czechs appear to know the restaurant even exists at all.
Part of the reason must be that the restaurant's owners – siblings Bobby and Bhavna Jain – speak limit
ed Czech themselves, and so have made a concerted effort to reach out to the many foreigners that live in Masala's immediate area, Vinohrady. Jain is a constant presence on the Expats.cz internet portal, responding to his customers' complaints and questions and announcing new developments.
So far, the hands-on approach seems to have worked; Masala is reliably busy even on weeknights. With a restaurant of only ten or so tables, a full house isn't all that hard to pull off, but the place has a definite buzz. On one of my visits, several groups of hungry customers had to be turned away or told to wait for a table to free up.
I don't know all that much about Indian cuisine, but it doesn't take a ton of expertise to recognize that Masala is one of the best Indian restaurants in the city. There's a lot of love and hard work that's been put into this place, and it shows.
The menu is laid out clearly and beautifully, with each dish explained in mouthwatering detail – helpful for those who are not too familiar with the offerings. Indian-food newbies will also appreciate Masala's flexible approach to their spices; the cooks are happy to adjust the hotness levels according to your taste, from very mild to sweat-inducing.
I asked for a chicken madras (162 CZK) done medium spicy, and it turned out just right (I am still trying to work my tastebuds up to the extreme heat of a real chicken Vindaloo, which is also on the menu). Indian dishes can be hard to pin down – there are no precise recipes, as ingredients vary from one chef to the next – but the hallmarks of a Madras are its red color and a generous amount of chili powder. This one had a sweet, tangy flavor, and the cubes of chicken nestled inside the sauce were amazingly tender.
But the chicken is nothing compared to Masala's consistently soft and juicy lamb meat. I tried it with saagwala (233 CZK), a thick curry made with spinach and fenugreek that was perfect for scooping up with a slice of naan bread (39 CZK). The naan, by the way, is homemade in a special tandoor oven and comes in three varieties: plain, butter, and garlic. The Masala version is a little crispier than other naans I've eaten, but it's still wonderful.
Another highlight was the tandoori chicken appetizer (185 CZK) – a Punjabi dish of chicken marinated in yoghurt, seasoned with a tandoori curry paste, and roasted in the aforementioned clay oven at a very high temperature (when the next table over is presented with a caste-iron dish that sizzles so loudly it interrupts your conversation, the tandoori chicken is probably what they're getting). I also loved the onion bhaji (69 CZK) -- chopped onions deep-fried in chickpea batter and served with a cool mint and yoghurt dipping sauce.
Even when Masala veers a bit from the more classic Indian dishes, they still manage to do very well. A tandoori chicken salad (185 CZK) was a refreshing mix of fresh veggies, chicken, and mint leaves, and a tomato and basil soup (45 CZK) had a mildly Indian accent thanks to the addition of fresh ginger (shredded coconut gave a yellow lentil soup, also 45 CZK, an ingenious boost, too).
Occasionally, the amount of meat tucked away in those pretty copper curry bowls can seem a little skimpy, but when I last visited, I was so full from the appetizers that I had to ask to have most of my main course wrapped up to take home. They are happy to do take-out meals, in case you want to eat your curry at home in front of the TV.
And with Masala's growing popularity, taking the stuff with you could be your only option. You might prefer it anyway, not because the atmosphere is bad – the restaurant is pleasantly decorated, with Indian pillows and tapestries and bright yellow walls – but because the service can be on the slow side. This is not for lack of trying by the friendly and slightly frazzled waitress, but because there is only one of her. Despite its small size, there's a lot to take care of when Masala is full, not least because Indian food demands many dishes and, inevitably, many drinks.
So I waited for a Coke that never came, and had to ask twice for another bottle of water. We also sat for a long time with empty plates in front of us, the remnants of curry sauces crustifying before our eyes. This has happened to me at Masala before on a few occasions. Basically, they could really use another server.
I would also be thrilled if they started tapping their beer – after all, the combination of spicy Indian food and a cold, freshly-tapped Czech beer is almost unbeatable. But as consolation, Masala has a selection of yoghurt lassis that they will make with a double shot of vodka (90 CZK) for those who are inclined to drink the hard stuff.
For now, I'll stick to my favorite beverage, the deliciously spicy Masala tea. I plan on coming back for it soon – and maybe next time, I'll even run into a few Czech speakers there.
Masala
Mánesova 13
Praha 2 - Vinohrady
map
Tel: 222 251 601
photographs 1, 3, 4, 5 Jindřich Mynařík for Lidové Noviny; all others masala.cz
Monday, March 30, 2009
Restaurant Review: Aromi
This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 21/03/09 edition of Lidové Noviny.
It's almost lunchtime, and I'm hungry. So writing about Aromi is about to be a little torturous, especially when I have one particular, magical dish on my mind.
I am an unabashed fan of pasta; most days, I'd take a bowl of good spaghetti over almost anything else. When a restaurant makes its pasta itself, I get pretty jazzed up about it. And right now, I'm very jazzed up about Aromi's ravioli.
For one thing, they are beautiful. My plate, piled up with bright yellow, perfectly round ravioli, looked like it had been covered in little suns. They were firm on the outside and filled with eggplant and burrata, a type of mozzarella that is mixed with cream to produce a luxurious, soft consistency. On top of the ravioli was some butter, fresh basil, and a few slices of peeled raw tomato.
This simple, sophisticated delight cost 345 CZK – a fairly steep price tag for a not-too-large portion of pasta – but I would go back for it anytime. And by anytime, I mean right now, if I didn't have to write this damn article and visit some other restaurant for my next one.
Lots of people come back to Aromi. One friend absolutely swears by it and refuses to take her business contacts anywhere else; other people must feel similarly, since the place is packed nearly every night. When he opened the restaurant nearly four years ago in the buzzing Vinohrady neighborhood, head chef and owner Riccardo Lucque couldn't have hoped for a much warmer reception.
Mr. Lucque hails from the Marche region of Italy, from which he imports many of the ingredients used in his kitchen. Some of these can be found up the street from Aromi in its deli offshoot, Aromi La Bottega. On offer are various prosciuttos and salamis, cheeses, olive oils, wines, and fresh pastas. They will let you sample almost anything you want before you buy it, and even do made-to-order hot sandwiches on Tuscan bread.
The Bottega also sells the same fresh fish available in the restaurant. It is outstanding, and one of the major reasons why Aromi has garnered a lot of attention on the Prague dining circuit. Each day, servers present patrons with a tray full of various piscine delights: sea bass, sea bream, turbot, live lobster, and so on. Most of them are recommended for two or more people, and the staff will suggest methods of preparation for each one – although they are happy to follow your special wishes as well.
On an evening visit, I shared a whole ombrina baked in sea salt (1870 CZK) with two of my companions. A waiter cleaned and portioned the fish at the table, disrobing it of its thick salt crust, removing the skin and bones, and arranging the steaming white meat on three plates. Tableside service is a rarity in this city – perhaps because it demands additional time and skill of the servers and forces the kitchen to be honest about its ingredients. But it's a nice little show for the diners to look at and adds to Aromi's homey atmosphere.
The ombrina itself was moist and stuck slightly to the teeth – the hallmarks of a well-cooked fish (I would suggest eating it without the olive oil offered by the waiter, since its flavor is excellent on its own). Unfortunately, nearly all of the side dishes we'd ordered, including a potato and cauliflower puree (65 CZK), braised artichokes (95 CZK), and lentils with pesto (65 CZK), were only lukewarm.
Other issues crept into the food here and there, too. A blue cheese and beetroot salad (215 CZK) lacked acidity, and a pumpkin risotto with sausage and balsamic vinegar (275 CZK for a starter portion; 335 CZK for a main course) was overly sweet. But the only dish I tried that I thoroughly disliked was the crab salad (365 CZK). It was served in a martini glass (a presentation probably meant to play off the salad's Martini Bianco jelly cubes), which made the salad very difficult to eat without dumping half of it onto the surrounding tabletop. There was fresh crab in mayonnaise, but its pairing with chopped olives, a very oily mesclun salad, and the bits of Martini Jell-O didn't do it any favors. Stick to the simple stuff at Aromi, and you probably won't go wrong.
Unless, of course, you are unlucky and have a bad experience with your server. In general, the service at Aromi is very good, if a little brusque (though I would still much prefer a slightly brusque waiter to one that hovers over the table all evening). But I did recently receive an email from an old friend detailing a very frustrating evening there, and I have been the victim of some inattentiveness at Aromi myself. At the end of a leisurely and expensive meal more recently, our waiter plucked the dessert plates and coffee cups off our table before we were finished in an apparent attempt to rush us out the door.
I did, however, appreciate the fact that Mr. Lucque himself had come over to each table earlier to ask if everything was all right. It's that sort of personal touch that will keep his restaurant full – despite its occasional faults and rather inflated prices.
So what's next for Aromi? Starting in February, they have begun holding monthly four-hour cooking classes, each focusing on a different type of food (sea bass, asparagus, and pasta are some of the selections). And people are already talking about La Finestra, the new restaurant Mr. Lucque plans to open in April on Platneřská in Old Town. That one, he says, will be more meat-oriented, and he will be importing special cuts from Italy.
If Aromi is anything to go by, La Finestra will be a great success, and Mr. Lucque won't need any well-wishers. But I am crossing my fingers for him anyway.
Aromi
Mánesova 78
Praha 2 – Vinohrady
map
Tel: 222 713 222
Open Mon-Sat 12:00-23:00, Sun 12:00-22:00
photographs 1, 2, 3, 5 Tomáš Krist for Lidové Noviny; all others Aromi.cz
