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: Klášterní Šenk

This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 28/02/09 edition of Lidové Noviny.

As all restaurant-goers know, sometimes the quality of your experience at a particular restaurant depends not only on what you get, but whom you get. You can order everything right, but if you're stuck in the wrong seating section on the wrong day of the week, your food will end up tasting just that little bit more bitter.

That's what happened on my second trip to Klášterní Šenk, a cozy pub-restaurant located within the walls of the 10th-century Břevnov monastery.

My mother and I were having lunch. She ordered the soup of the day and I chose a main course off the regular menu; for seconds, we both ordered dessert. Her soup arrived promptly. I watched her eat it, hoping my halušky would come in time for us to dine together. Some time after the soup bowl had been cleared, my mother asked the waiter if the halušky were on their way, seeing as we had been waiting half an hour for them to come.

He promptly replied thus: "No, you have NOT been waiting thirty minutes." He then went to the register, hit a few buttons and returned with a very self-satisfied look on his face. "The order was put in at 12:40, and it is now 1:00. So you've been waiting twenty minutes."

Now, in America (and whatever you might think of the country, they do customer service very well) they have a saying: the customer is always right. It is an adage followed by just about everybody working in any service industry. Why? Because if the customer feels as if she has been waiting for thirty minutes, it has been thirty minutes. And because even if the customer is wrong, she should be treated with a level of courtesy and deference that will keep her happy.

I, instead, was treated like a booger. And that's fine; I'm pretty much used to it. Czech waiters often look at me as if I was something small, dry, and shriveled that they had just scooped from the inside wall of their nasal cavity. That especially happens when I do things like gently trying to explain that we had hoped to eat at the same time, and no we should not have had to tell the waitress that we wanted the food to come together because it should be obvious and in any case she should have asked us, etc., etc. The booger talks! It's always an interesting moment.

The argument went on for a full five minutes, as if the head waiter didn't have anything better to do in a packed restaurant during lunch hour than educate a couple of ladies about the correct way to order a meal.

Now contrast that experience with the one I'd had during dinner the week before: a friendly, charming server, who offered to make a cucumber salad although it wasn't on the menu (he ended up forgetting the salad, but apologized sincerely when he realized his mistake). I was pleasantly surprised by how patient he was with a friend who is a Czech beginner – he didn't pretend not to understand her, or start speaking in English, as so many servers often do. He even complimented her on her language skills.

So the service at Klášterní Šenk seems to be a little hit-or-miss. The food, on the other hand, is a lot more consistent. The dishes are mostly classic local fare and slightly more expensive than you'd find in your average pub, but all that much better in terms of quality and presentation. They are listed on the menu in funny, old-school Czech style: prsa z kačice, co na rybníku pod klášterem plula, s obé zelím i knedlíků (259 CZK) ("breast from a duck that swam on the pond under the monastery, with both cabbage and dumplings").

I tried one of the pricier entrées, the beef sirloin with chanterelle mushrooms (490 CZK). The meat was expertly cooked and seasoned, its inside pink but not dripping with blood, and the chanterelle gravy was a nice accompaniment. Even the corn on the cob (40 CZK) I'd ordered on the side was very good: instead of being shriveled or muddy like many pub cobs, this one was sweet and juicy. It was dressed in olive oil and a sprinkling of basil – an unusual choice, but tasty nonetheless.

A roast pork knee with sour cherries and horseradish (249 CZK) was excellent, too, as was the mushroom-packed kulajda in a bread bowl (59 CZK). And nothing makes me happier than opening up a menu to find hearty Czech sweet dishes, long replaced in most restaurants by tiramisus and cheesecakes. At Klášterní Šenk, you'll find fluffy lívance (Czech pancakes) with whipped cream and blueberries (69 CZK), or delectable potato dumplings filled with plum preserve and served with a vanilla-tinged sweet cheese sauce (69 CZK). The beer on tap is, appropriately enough, the rarely-seen eleven-degree Klášter (0.5l for 32 CZK).

To find all these delights, you'll have to make your way out to Břevnov, but even if you're coming from across town, it really is worth it. The setting – just adjacent to the St. Margaret church and its surrounding gardens – is positively serene, and makes an ideal spot for a pre- or post-meal stroll. And with its birchwood-burning fireplace (not always lit, unfortunately), stone walls, and wooden beams, the rustic-style restaurant is uniquely charming.

But lots of people already seem to have figured that out for themselves. Klášterní Šenk is a popular destination for weddings and other large-scale events, and if warned a few days in advance, they can prepare a full-on feast with roast duck, goose, and other specialties. On regular days, they are consistently packed for both lunch (they have a 99 CZK menu on weekdays) and dinner, so reservations are recommended.

And the restaurant is recommended, too. Just be careful who you order from.

Klášterní Šenk
Markétská 1/28
Praha 6 - Břevnov
map
Tel: 220 406 294
Open Mon – Sun 11:30–23:00

photographs 1, 2, 4, 5 Jindřich Mynařík for Lidové Noviny; all others klasternisenk.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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