Restaurant Review: The Sushi Bar

I almost gave The Sushi Bar four spoons.

As my regular readers know, I don't give full marks very often. That's not because I'm trying to be difficult, or because I don't think this country has any great restaurants. I guess it's just that my standards are pretty high, and I haven't been met with a lot of perfect dining experiences lately.

Until, that is, I went to The Sushi Bar. Or so I thought. Then I looked at my receipt.

The Sushi Bar's been around since 1999, when it was, according to its website, the only sushi place in the Czech Republic. The little restaurant gets its most important ingredients from the partner shop next door called Seafood Shop, which also provides high-quality fresh fish to many local dining establishments.

The first, and still the best: that is The Sushi Bar's motto, and after eating their precisely crafted, unforgettable food – and comparing it to some of the more pathetic renditions of sushi available in this town – I can't argue otherwise. I would, however, add the qualifier that The Sushi Bar's sushi is not only The First and The Best, but also The Most Expensive. An eight-piece "exclusive" maki roll can run you as high as 1190 CZK, although you can also get a cucumber roll for 150 CZK or a salmon roll for 290 CZK. So if you're on a budget, order wisely.

But do order something here, at least once. They take the art of sushi-making seriously at The Sushi Bar. They're not doing it because it's trendy; they don't throw in a few maki rolls as an afterthought to a menu loaded with spaghetti and knedlík. They don't think, "most of our customers won't know the difference between good and bad sushi, so who cares if we use this borderline-rancid tuna fish?" And they don't offer Thai spring rolls and tom kha gai soups to appease people who aren't sushi-lovers – they do have a kimchi salad, but at least the menu makes it clear that the dish is Korean.

The menu, by the way, is a work of art in itself. An appetizing photograph of each dish is set against a background of matte white paper, next to loving descriptions typed in crisp fonts. Picking the right kind and amount of sushi can sometimes be tricky, but thanks to their carefully-compiled 'boat' sets and a clever graph system for the nigiri, it's easy to choose a well-rounded meal.

My table chose the nigiri sushi menu number 1 (990 CZK), a fairly straightforward six-piece combination that included salmon, tuna, and red snapper. But it also featured the less-common freshwater shrimp, as well as toro, or tuna belly, a highly-prized, fatty delicacy that melts upon contact with the tongue (only restaurants that order large whole tuna fish can offer toro, since the belly makes up such a small percentage of the flesh). Each piece of nigiri was just as it should be: small and easy to eat in one bite, with only a modest amount of vinegared rice covered by a cleanly-cut slice of raw fish. And it goes without saying that the fish was as fresh as fresh can be.

What's so exclusive about an 'exclusive maki,' besides the price? None of the sakana ura maki's (1190 CZK) ingredients – salmon, cucumber, seaweed, mango, and avocado – seemed especially luxurious. But bundled up together in a tight inside-out roll and draped with elegant slivers of salmon and cucumber, each bite was a gorgeous medley of tastes and textures: the cool, smooth salmon; the creamy avocado; the crunch of cucumber and the fragrant mango. The roll was not only sublime, but huge. I would order it again.

Throughout the meal, the service was fantastic – attentive, but unpretentious. Our table was wiped down after each course, and the waiters were happy to make suggestions. One of the fish that was supposed to be part of our nigiri set was unavailable that night, so it was replaced with two pieces of a different kind. We were also given full portions of tuna and avocado sashimi on the house, and each female customer got a red rose when she left. We felt like we were really being looked after.

I was especially impressed by what happened when my companion asked if they had any Czech beer. "We do," our waiter said, "but only bottled. If you like, though, I can bring you freshly-tapped beer from next door."

This was fabulous news. Next door, you see, is the gastropub Olympia, where they serve tanked Plzeň – that meant some first-rate beer to go with the first-rate sushi. The waiter promptly returned clutching a frosty mug of the good stuff, and set it down on a paper coaster in front of my friend.

Now comes the part with the receipt. When we paid the bill, I noticed that it seemed a little high. But it was only after I got home that I took a closer look and realized that the two next-door Plzeňs – the very same ones that cost 39 CZK at Olympia – had cost us 150 CZK each.

What. The. Hell. This was truly an outrage. Yes, charging a little extra – maybe even double – for the additional trouble is understandable. But charging four times the original price? Without any warning at all? Who's ever even heard of a 150 CZK beer in this town?

I posed that last question to my beer-loving brother. He thought it over for some time. "Once," he said, slowly. "When I was at a stag party at this strip club, Goldfingers. They charged us 150 CZK there." He shook his head, apparently distressed by the memory.

And I shake my head, too. Because I really wanted to give The Sushi Bar four spoons. But see? I can't go around saying the service is perfect and then have you dip into your savings fund to pay for a glass of beer.

The sushi, on the other hand – that might be worth going bankrupt for.

The Sushi Bar
Zborovská 49
Prague 5 – Malá Strana
Tel.: 603 244 882

Open Mon-Sun 12:00-22:00

photographs 1, 3 Lidové Noviny; all others sushi.cz

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

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Restaurant Review: Safir / Beas

This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 07/06/08 edition of Lidové Noviny.

With a surging interest in gourmet cuisine among its residents, Prague can now lay claim to plenty of upscale restaurants. But some of its best and most interesting food is also its least expensive – and doesn’t require table service. Here’s an overview of two great spots to get a satisfying meal for under 150 CZK.






When its original location on Havelská shut down, fans of Safir Grill’s reliable, low-cost Lebanese food found themselves without a place to go. Not long after, the restaurant re-emerged, this time simply as Safir, in the newly-built Nový Smíchov shopping mall.

This low-key Middle Eastern joint is a nice addition to the typical food court – not as greasy as the McDonald’s across the way, but not as time-demanding as some of the sit-down restaurants nearby. At lunchtime, the lines at Safir are long, but the wait is minimized by the efficient and friendly staff.

There’s a variety of classic Lebanese dishes here, both with and without meat: gyros, tabbouleh, dolmas, and falafel are among them. For a convenient to-go food, try the twister gyros, a tightly-wrapped sandwich of roasted chicken and cabbage in Lebanese bread. It’s something like KFC’s Twister sandwich, only better – and certainly healthier.

Safir’s tabbouleh is a little on the flavorless side, probably because they make theirs with curly parsley instead of the more tasty (and less common in these parts) flat Italian variety. But their hummus and baba ganoush are delicious, especially when paired with a plate of crispy, freshly-made falafel patties.

I also love their grape leaves and cabbage leaves, which come served with the refreshing yoghurt and cucumber sauce known as tzatziki. For dessert, they offer sticky-sweet pistachio or peanut baklava (pistachio is better) or the soft, spongy harisa cake, in either coconut or walnut versions. Everything can be wrapped up to go, so it’s a good option for a last-minute dinner when you don’t feel like cooking.

The atmosphere is a little lacking, but what can you expect from a shopping mall restaurant? Safir does their best under the circumstances, with mosaic tables, Arabic-style mirrors, and even shisha pipes offered on the menu – though I have yet to see anyone try them. Just watch out for your belongings; thieves occasionally lurk among the tables, looking for a stray purse to grab while its owner has her hands full of falafel.

Late last year, Safir opened up a second location in the DBK department store at Budějovická. I still wish they had a spot downtown, since there’s an unfortunate lack of good quality, low-budget Middle Eastern food in the city center. Maybe they’ll be back someday. For now, we’ll have to rely on shopping malls in order to get our Safir fix.

Safir
OC Nový Smíchov
Plzeňská 8 – Praha 5
map
Tel: 257 310 149

DBK Praha
Budějovická 1667/64 – Praha 4
map
Tel: 296 825 111







It almost seems too good to be true: two portions of vegetable stew, rice, salad, soup, yoghurt sauce, chutney, and dessert for only 98 CZK (pictured below). But at Beas, this is the standard menu (the large one, anyway; a smaller version, which comes minus the chutney and dessert, goes for 85 CZK).

The food here is not only plentiful and cheap, but is some of the better Indian you’ll find in town. Beas employs Indian chefs at both its locations, and isn’t afraid of being authentic; they even serve pickles, the super-spicy condiment made of pickled fruits and vegetables.

Meat-eaters might be disappointed that Beas is exclusively vegetarian, but the offerings here are so rich and filling that some of them may hardly even notice. The generous portions of rice (either white or flavored, depending on your preference), sabji (vegetable stew), and dhal (bean, chickpea, or lentil stew) are hearty enough alone to fill up the hungriest lunchtime patrons. The other menu elements are there to round out the experience – like the raita (yoghurt sauce with herbs), which acts as a cooling contrast to the spicy stews, or the chutney (a condiment made of dates, raisins, or other fruits), whose sweet, gooey texture is a natural complement to the savory vegetables.

The set menu is served to at the counter, cafeteria-style, but if you have a little more time, it’s worth waiting for the kitchen to whip up some of the Indian specialties they prepare to order. Among these are the excellent dosa, a thin, crispy pancake made of rice and flour and stuffed with either potatoes or spinach, and the parantha, a type of whole wheat flatbread filled with a spicy potato mixture (pictured below; on a recent visit to the Bělehradská Beas, however, only two of the six made-to-order options were in stock).

Both locations have pleasant courtyards to eat in, but the interiors are perfectly nice, too, with cream-colored walls and sleek wooden chairs. At the Týnská restaurant, each table carries a silver pitcher full of tap water, a quaint touch that adds to the homey surroundings. Unfortunately, the Bělehradská location has now replaced the pitchers with plastic water filters – more hygienic, perhaps, but a little less aesthetically pleasing.

If you’re curious about Indian desserts, be sure to try Beas’s halva. Unlike Arabic halvas, which are usually sesame-based, the Indian variety is made from semolina wheat and has a soft, couscous-like consistency. Served with a thick vanilla cream, it’s the perfect way to finish a meal at the dhaba. Or try a glass of the mango lassi – like most things at Beas, it’s delicious and healthy, and it won’t strain your wallet.

Beas
Týnská 19 (in the courtyard) – Praha 1
Open Mon-Sat 11:00-20:00, Sun 11:00-18:00
map

Bělehradská 90 – Praha 2
Open Mon-Fri 11:00-21:00, Sat 12:00-20:00, Sun 12:00-18:00
map
tel.+420 608 035 727

images: praguespoon.com, beas-dhaba.cz

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Restaurant Review: Café Savoy

This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 17/05/08 edition of Lidové Noviny.

Café Savoy takes its tatarák very seriously.

I discovered this when I was unable to finish my portion of Savoy’s delicate beef tartare (198 CZK) at the end of an especially filling lunch. Even after all the other dishes had been cleared and I’d started on my cake and coffee, the staff still wouldn’t take away my leftover dollop of steak paste.
I didn’t much feel like looking at a pile of greasy topinky while I ate my dessert, so I asked a waiter to remove the offending plate. He lumbered over reluctantly.

"Well, if you ask me to take away your plate, I can." He paused.

"Yes, I would like you to take away my plate, please," I repeated.

"Was there something wrong with it?" He hadn’t yet picked up the dish.

"No," I said. "I’m just full."

Finally, he very slowly reached for the plate and carried it out of my sight. He definitely wasn’t happy about it, though.

Look, I know that in this country it’s considered sacrilege to leave a perfectly good piece of meat – let alone svíčková (beef tenderloin) – unfinished. But I eat out a lot, and if I were to finish every buttery morsel of every dish I ordered, they’d have to start rolling me into the restaurants I review.

And that wouldn’t be very discreet, would it?

The truth is that the tatarák at Savoy is excellent. So maybe the old guy just couldn’t understand why somebody would be unwilling to scarf it all down. But if I don’t want to finish my food, he has no business asking me why not, and he certainly shouldn’t be trying to make me feel bad about it.

Occasional lapses in service are Café Savoy’s only drawback. It’s a weakness that I find frustrating because I actually love Savoy to bits – and as regular readers might already have noticed, I don’t fall in love with restaurants too easily.

Café Savoy, with its huge windows and gorgeous, government-protected Neo-Renaissance plaster-cast ceiling, is an instantly impressive kind of place. On one side of the restaurant is an elevated seating area for smokers; the walls of the room around the corner are covered with wooden shelves stacked with bottles of wine and lit so that the bottles give off a warm glow. Savoy’s atmosphere is certainly hard to beat.

This unique space wasn’t always as pretty as its current incarnation. After it first opened in 1893, Café Savoy became a favorite haunt of local intellectuals (including Franz Kafka, who attended some Yiddish theatre performances held there). But when the property changed hands during World War I, the famous ceiling was boarded up and the café was transformed into small boutiques. The original plasterwork remained preserved under the suspended ceiling for the duration of the Communist era, during which the space was used as a police recruitment center. Post-revolution, Savoy re-emerged as a dingy, smoke-filled café.

In 2004, Ambiente Group took Savoy over and set about restoring its former glory. It is now one of the few restaurants in Prague that serves traditional Czech dishes made from high-quality ingredients. They’re not interested in cheating their customers here, and it shows. All of their meats are fantastic: the Prague ham, the frankfurters served with mustard and fresh horseradish, the aforementioned tatarák.

They win points for presentation, too. Order a cup of the delicious Savoy hot chocolate (55 CZK) and they’ll bring it to you in a little pitcher, and waiters pour the hearty soups (called "Restaurants" here, for reasons explained on the menu) into their bowls right at your table. The old-school details feel elegant and practical – not pretentious, as they might in a stuffier setting.

There’s one thing about Savoy that baffles me a little: it has two different menus. One is their regular menu; the other is something called the "Gourmet Menu." The Gourmet Menu offers fancier, more expensive versions of some of the items on the regular menu, along with some French-inspired extras. If you order food off the Gourmet Menu, you get to eat on a white damask tablecloth. If you don’t order off the Gourmet Menu, you eat on a bare table.

What is the point of this bizarre distinction? If I order the regular steak tartare instead of the Parisian steak tartare, am I unworthy of a tablecloth? And why does the whole restaurant have to know that I ordered from the less expensive menu? They should integrate the two – it’s perfectly fine to have varying price categories on the same menu, and it would create less confusion for first-time visitors.

That’s not to say that the Gourmet Menu items aren’t any good. I had an excellent svíčková na smetaně (beef in cream sauce made with real tenderloin; the version on the regular menu isn’t) that came with a saucière of extra sauce – an incredibly thoughtful touch. I can also recommend the homemade fruit dumplings (154 CZK). When I tried them, they were filled with fresh strawberries and served with do-it-yourself chocolate sauce, strawberry yoghurt, and breadcrumbs. And if you're feeling especially hungry one morning, be sure to check out their elaborate French, English, and American breakfasts.

I occasionally like to have lunch at Café Savoy by myself. There used to be a maître d' there who thought it was very charming to ask me personal questions about my life and to tell me what kind of mood he supposed I was in based on how much make-up I happened to be wearing that day. Why do so many waiters seem to think that a woman eating lunch and reading a book by herself needs to be talked to? Just get over it, please, guys. And while you're at it, bring me that matonka I ordered a half-hour ago. Thanks.

It seems that this man no longer works at Savoy, and I have to say that as annoyingly invasive as he was, I kind of miss him. But that's only because the service seemed to be much better when he was around. Some longtime Café Savoy regulars, including myself, have observed a lot of scowling, snappy, and impossible-to-flag-down waiters there recently.

They'd better manage to work the service problems out soon – in every other respect, Café Savoy is one of the best and most dependable restaurants in Prague. Unless something drastically bad happens, I'll still be a regular there. It's just too loveable for me to let it go.

Café Savoy
Vítězná 5, 150 00 Praha 5
map
Tel.: +420 257 311 562
Open Mon-Fri 8:00 – 22:30, Sat-Sun 09:00 – 22:30

images: praguespoon.com / ambi.cz

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