This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 15/11/08 edition of Lidové Noviny.
When Lehká Hlava first opened, I thought it would never last. Its location on a tiny side street – the shortest in Prague, in fact – seemed too secluded to get much foot traffic, and its vegetarian menu seemed a little too wholesome for a nation of dedicated meat eaters.
I was wrong.
In the past few years, Lehká Hlava has become one of only a handful of Prague restaurants that turn away hu
ngry customers on a regular basis. Even on a Monday or Tuesday night – days when some waiters barely lift a plate during dinner service – reservations are a must.
Before the floods of 2002, the same space was occupied by Dobrá Čajovna, a company that has opened a series of cozy teahouses across the Czech Republic and now even has a couple of branches in Wisconsin and Vermont. But none of them appear to match the charm and secrecy of the original Boršov location: the candlelit room strewn with pillows and Persian rugs where tea drinkers sometimes took naps; the brighter front room, more suitable for reading or long chats with friends; the old-fashioned bell that guests had to pull on in order to be let inside.
I get a little nostalgic visiting Lehká Hlava sometimes, even if the restaurant does have some of that same comfy feeling to it that the čajovna once did. The back room, whose cave-like dark blue walls are dotted with tiny lights for stars, is especially popular – I wasn't able to reserve a seat there on either of my most recent visits. The other large room is nicely designed too, although it is so packed with tables that it can sometimes feel uncomforta
Good thing Lehká Hlava has such a unique atmosphere, because the food is a bit lacking, even if it is pleasantly inexpensive. Like many vegetarian restaurants, this one will serve dishes from just about any kind of cuisine (Mexican, Italian, Thai, Middle Eastern) as long as they don't contain meat. The menu is fairly large, and with the restaurant so busy, the solo chef in the tiny open kitchen must be under quite a bit of pressure every night.
Sometimes, the stress seems to show in the food. The grains in the bulgur wheat risotto (135 CZK) were tough, while the tempeh that came with it was dry and shriveled, as if it had been heated more than once. Besides that, I didn't much like the concept of the dish, which paired an oily mixture of stir-fried vegetables and bulgur with a dollop of peanut and sun dried tomato pesto. The idea may have been to give the dish some more flavor – which it definitely could have used – but the pairing seemed more careless than creative.
There are a few other bizarre combinations, too: hummus served with tortilla chips (80 CZK), for example, or a carrot cake doused in melted milk chocolate (70 CZK). The hummus with chips was a little off-base (classic toasted pita bread would really work better), but those with a very sweet tooth should find the carrot cake to their liking. Made from millet instead of regular wheat flour, and spiced up by coconut and fresh ginger, the very dense and moist cake took well to the high-quality chocolate sauce. The same kind of chocolate is used in Lehká Hlava's popular hot chocolate (50 or 70 CZK; try the delicious Aztec version with chili and walnuts) and fruit fondue (80 CZK).
I also enjoyed a main course of grilled goat cheese with gratinated potatoes and sautéed fresh spinach (165 CZK), layered with a top crust of crispy cheese and a sprinkling of chopped walnuts. It's a well-thought-out, satisfying vegetarian entrée. The eggplant quesadillas (135 CZK), meanwhile, were mediocre at best but at least partially redeemed themselves with the very good homemade guacamole and tomato salsa that were served as accompaniments.
Credit should be given to Lehká Hlava's imaginative drinks menu, which features a variety of fresh juices, including the Heart Core (50 or 65 CZK), a combination of freshly-pressed apples, carrots, and ginger. They also do guarana cocktails, fresh lemonade with mint, and something called the Greenhorn, made from young barley shoots, in addition to serving a small selection of wines and leaf teas. Finally, we have a restaurant whose non-alcoholic menu offers more than just Coke and mineral water.
I wouldn't recommend the mineral water, by the way – apparently they pour it into glasses from a large bottle, so it is often completely flat once it reaches the table. And don't try asking the waitresses for ice with your fresh juice, because they'll probably forget to bring it; the service may be friendly, but it's unreliable (you may find it easier to dine here during their monthly brunch, when the food is self-service only).
Lehká Hlava does have its faults, but at least it's doing something different from the countless copycat restaurants that have saturated our dining scene – which may be part of the reason why people keep coming back. There's really nothing else like it, and the love and care the owners have put into the space are palpable. I'm hoping a few more risk-taking entrepreneurs will step forward in the near future. Prague, and all its hopelessly bored restaurant-goers, would almost certainly welcome the change.
Lehká Hlava
Boršov 2
Praha 1
Tel: 222 220 665
map
Open Mon–Fri 11:30–23:30, Sat-Sun 12:00—23:30
photographs 1, 4, 5 Tomáš Krist for Lidové Noviny; all others lehkahlava.cz
Monday, December 8, 2008
Restaurant Review: Lehká Hlava
Monday, December 1, 2008
Restaurant Review: Maze by Gordon Ramsay (CLOSED)
This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 08/11/08 edition of Lidové Noviny.
A previously published Prague Spoon review of Maze by Gordon Ramsay can be found here.
Today, I'm starting with dessert.
I want to discuss a certain gooey little mountain of goodness: the chocolate fondant. A cross between a chocolate flourless cake and a soufflé, it is deliberately undercooked so that its center stays runny. Although the fondant's persistent popularity has turned it into something of an after-dinner menu cliché, it is rarely done exceptionally well. The insides don't ooze from the center because it has been baked for too long, or the cake is underdone and chewy, or it is made with low quality chocolate.
But the fondant at Maze is different.
As my spoon sinks into the cake's spongy crust, a warm gush of melted Belgian chocolate seeps onto my plate. Te
chnically, this fondant is perfect, and it is a creative accomplishment, too. Instead of choosing an obvious accompaniment such as raspberry coulis or crème anglaise, they've paired it with a tangy orange toffee sauce that lends the dark chocolate a citrusy edge and a subtle smokiness. Roasted hazelnuts and a scoop of homemade beurre blanc ice cream add crunch and coolness to an otherwise smooth, hot dish.
For a man as notoriously foul-mouthed as Gordon Ramsay, he is certainly making poetry here.
Mr. Ramsay, of course, is the holder of twelve Michelin stars and the head of a restaurant empire. His reach extends to Tokyo, Dubai, Los Angeles and, most recently, Terminal 5 at London's Heathrow Airport. Maze, his more casual chain of restaurants, now has locations in London, New York, and Prague. He has starred in three television shows, published eighteen cookbooks and memoirs, and contributed a regular column to The Times's Saturday magazine. With so much Ramsay going around, many have questioned whether the ambitious Scotsman might be spreading his talent just a little too thin for his own good.
On each episode of his well-received TV show Kitchen Nightmares, Mr. Ramsay sweeps into a struggling restaurant and figures out how to make it profitable. He trims overcomplicated menus, hollers at incompetent floor managers, and schools chefs in the art of cooking simply and with fresh ingredients. He even throws away hideous furnishings, starts public relations campaigns, and patches up venomous relationships between co-owning family members. Whatever you think of his approach, it's clear that this man knows a thing or two about running a successful restaurant.
So, at Prague's branch of Maze, as my table waited half an hour, then forty-five minutes, then a full hour to receive our main course, I imagined what Mr. Ramsay might be saying to the kitchen staff if this were an episode of Nightmares: "Table nine has been waiting ONE FUCKING HOUR for their entrées! The restaurant's half empty! What are you going to do when this place is full? Fucking hell." And so on.
I would also expect him to have somebody apologize for the delay and assure us that our dishes were on their way. There was no such courtesy. And when the food did come, the beef fillet was cold. At least the waiters managed to top up our water and wine glasses – a lot. So often, in fact, that I started taking sips only after I'd checked that no one was looking to ensure that another server wouldn't swoop in to give me a refill.
The over-attentive service has rankled me on previous visits to Maze, too, when the waiters would not only spend all night performing the endless water-pouring dance (could it be a strategy to get us to buy more of those 180 CZK bottles?), but would systematically dump still water into glasses of sparkling water and vice versa. Part of the problem seems to be that many waiters serve each table, so they are unable to keep track of how often each party is being visited and who is drinking which type of water (I noticed a similar problem when I ate at the Maze restaurant in New York recently, where they also use the multiple-server system).
The inconsistencies in service are all the more frustrating because every staff member was otherwise perfectly willing and courteous. And although Maze's organization occasionally falters, the food rarely does.
Under the masterful direction of chef de cuisine Philip Carmichael, French classics are updated with playful touches. A cilantro-tinged king crab salad (440 CZK, pictured above) slathered in a smooth avocado paste comes with a nest of green apple slivers and a scoop of Bloody Mary-flavored sorbet. A fairly unsophisticated vegetable, red cabbage, is spun into a densely flavored violet puree to accompany the roasted Barbary duck breast (750 CZK, pictured below). And in a nod to the current trend for unusual salty-sweet combinations, the same dish is served with a savory duck confit wrapped in flaky pastry and dusted with powdered sugar (a similar line was toed by a wonderful dessert no longer on the menu, the peanut butter sandwich). The risks here are calculated, not random. The difference is obvious.
As far as Prague's more upscale eating establishments go, this is some of the best value for money in the city. There is no cheating, no scrimping, no artful cover-ups of mediocre ingredients by unskilled hands. In the year since Maze's opening, its culinary standards have been consistently high.
It's too bad, then, that Maze is situated close to one of the seedier parts of town, the Masarykovo train station, and in a hotel whose unattractive lobby can be seen from much of the restaurant. The art deco-style décor is tasteful, and the seating, especially the tables for two, are intimate and comfortable. But the room is a little gloomy, the ceilings a little low, the lights around the bar a little garish – and there are no windows to the outside. I've always found it hard to forget that I'm eating in a Hilton.
The fact that you're visiting a Gordon Ramsay establishment is hard to escape, too. The chinaware is from the Ramsay line, and next to the restaurant entrance is a well-lit bookcase displaying Ramsay's various tomes.
But so what if the guy has an ego? At least he can cook. Prague is much better off now that a chef of Mr. Ramsay's caliber has lifted a leg and marked his Old Town territory. I just hope he comes by to do some maintenance soon.
Last time I checked, those memoirs were looking a little dusty.
Maze by Gordon Ramsay
Hilton Prague Old Town
V Celnici 7
Prague 1
map
Tel: +420 221 822 300
Open Mon-Sun
Breakfast 06:30-10:30
Lunch 12:00-15:00
Dinner 18:00-23:00
Photographs by Jakub Hněvkovský, Lidové noviny
Monday, November 24, 2008
Food news: Where to have Thanksgiving in Prague
Fear not, turkey-loving Americans: Prague has plenty of places where you can get your fill of Thanksgiving this Thursday.
If you want to eat your holiday dinner at home (but don't want to cook it yourself), Bakeshop will be selling Thanksgiving to go. They'll be making fresh turkey caramelized with dark beer, Italian sausage and bread stuffing, parmesan roasted butternut squash and more, all for 800 CZK per kilo. Pick up a bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau while you're there, too.
Bohemia Bagel in Holešovice will be having an all-you-can-eat Thanksgiving buffet for 490 CZK per person starting at 7 pm, and Jáma is celebrating
For those who want to get all fancy-like, Allegro will be serving something along the lines of Thanksgiving dinner, and Hilton's CzecHouse and the Mandarin Oriental's Essensia will have holiday menus as well.
Reservations are strongly recommended for all of the above restaurants. Happy gobbling!
images: countryliving.com
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Food news: Slowdown at Savoy, new bakeries, Burger King, and more
Over the summer, Café Savoy closed its doors for a little while to do some renovating, the most notable change being a much-needed improvement to the toilet situation (the restrooms are now located in a new downstairs area and have multiple stalls). But it looks like they might have forgotten a few basics in the meantime.
I've had issues with Savoy's service before, but I've never had to deal with a server as surly, impatient, and incompetent as the woman in charge of our table during brunch last Sunday. She huffed and puffed and rolled her eyes as we were giving our orders, then forgot to bring half of what we'd asked for. And on a recent dinner visit, every step (ordering food, asking for another beer, getting the check) took several attempts, and our wine list didn't come until we'd ordered the first course.
A VIP sitting at the table next to ours seemed to be getting more than enough attention. Well, at least someone was happy...
Whopper fans rejoice: the Czech Republic's first Burger King will open next week in Metropole Zličín shopping mall. The franchise is owned by AmRest, the Polish company that also brought us KFC and Starbucks.
In pastry shop / bakery news, scrumptious French
patisserie Passion Chocolat has left its spot in Vinohrady and will soon be reopening in Pasáž U Nováků (on Vodičkova, connected to Lucerna Pasáž). I'm a little skeptical that the new location will give them the kind of foot traffic they need, but let's hope for the best. French chain bakery Paul has opened in Palác Flora, of all places. And Bakeshop is promising great things for Thanksg
Finally, for those who understand Czech and might want to find out a little more about me and the Prague Spoon, Lidovky's Pátek magazine published an interview with me last week, written by the positively lovely chef and food writer Hanka Michopulu.
images ambi.cz, burgerking.com, Prague Spoon, paul.fr
Monday, November 17, 2008
Restaurant Review: Radost FX
This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 25/10/08 edition of Lidové Noviny.
When winter time comes around, most of us do our best to keep ourselves from getting sick. We wear scarves. We take extra vitamins. We may even go to the doctor's office to get flu vaccinations.
I am just as diligent about avoiding the restaurant at Radost FX. I don't often lie, but when it comes to that particular spot, I am not above fabricating an aunt's 60th birthday party or a sudden attack of the shingles. Believe me, if there was an anti-Radost shot, I'd be the first in line.
But just as some of us will still come down with the flu despite our best efforts, I sometimes end up getting dragged to Radost.
My friends, you
see, will not heed the sound advice of the restaurant critic ("That place SUCKS"), because they always have a very special reason to go there. Somebody doesn't eat meat. ("It's not the only vegetarian place in town," I argue.) They serve brunch. ("Are you out of your mind? Have you SEEN the French toast?") It's late and we're hungry. ("Oh… all right." There really isn't anywhere else to have a sit-down meal in this city after midnight.)
The fact that I am something of a food snob is not the only reason I refuse to eat at Radost. I'm also trying to protect my and my friends' health and general well-being.
It could just be hearsay, but Radost's food does have a reputation for making people ill. Besides the various discussions of this topic on the internet, I personally know several people who have gotten sick after eating there. Even just this past week, a friend who accompanied me on one of my visits said she felt not very good at all after eating one of the restaurant's beloved Popeye burgers (the "burger" part is made out of spinach, hazelnuts, garlic, and cheese, in case you were wondering).
Far be it for me to know exactly what's going on. But I would like to point to the eyewitness account of a buddy of mine as a possible (partial) explanation. My friend was at Radost early in the day and saw the chef taking a batch of produce from the delivery man. The chef shook the hand of the delivery dude, brought the veggies into the kitchen (separated from the dining room by only a curtain, so it's possible to glimpse inside), and without washing his hands proceeded to chop up the tomatoes and put them on a plate for a customer's salad. And then, as an afterthought, he grabbed a slice of tomato from the plate and popped it in his mouth.
With standards like these, it's no wonder people are getting sick.
Of course, there are a lot of restaurants in this town with questionable hygiene practices – more, probably, than I'd care to know about. But even if the food at Radost isn't regularly groped by dirty hands, it's still presented as if it was. All of the dishes come out looking carelessly made and sloppy.
Take the Heaven's Garden dish (195 CZK), another supposed favorite of avid Radost-goers. It's basically a plate of mashed potatoes smothered in a dull cream sauce and topped with random vegetables: carrots, zucchini, mushrooms, red and green peppers, parsley, black olives (what?), and sun-dried tomatoes (why?). Some of the carrots were shredded, others were julienned. It's as if they just threw in whatever scraps they had lying around the kitchen.
The ratatouille (190 CZK) may be even worse. When I tried it, the vegetables were inexcusably overcooked, to the point where it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between the eggplant and the zucchini because both were so mushy and brown. The zucchini had been lazily cut into five-centimeter-long cylinders. The couscous that came with the ratatouille was bone dry; it must have been made the day before and stored improperly afterwards. And spooned on top was a nonsensical serving of sour cream. As if that would make this pile of slop worth the money.
I guess laziness rules at Radost. On my first visit, the waitress took a drink order from my friend without asking the rest of us what we wanted, then brought the drink and still didn't ask. On my second visit, my brother, who has a serious peanut allergy, asked a different waitress if there would be peanuts or peanut products in his stir fry. She said she wasn't sure and she would find out. She didn't. My brother got sick.
What more can you expect from a restaurant where my friend (the same unlucky lady who ate the foul Popeye burger) once found a big piece of glass in her salad? That may have been a few years ago, but judging by my recent experiences there, I still wouldn't put that kind of insanity past this place.
What confuses me most is the fact that so many people continue to eat at Radost. Some even swear by it. A Hollywood actor once took me there on a miserable date because he refused to eat anywhere else the whole time he was shooting his movie in Prague. He even had Radost food delivered to the set every day.
Okay, so I guess the interior is kind of cool, with the brightly patterned couches and funky wallpaper and quasi-trendy dance music provided by live DJs on the weekends. The restaurant feels like an extension of the club downstairs – all the more so because of the cigarette smoke and the fact that customers have to use the dank and dirty club toilets.
But even if you're enticed by the shabby chic décor and the promising-looking menu, even if you're a vegetarian and you want brunch or it's late and you're hungry, don't do it. I, for one, plan on never getting dragged to Radost again.
And after this review is published, I won't even have to come up with an excuse.
Radost FX
Bělehradská 120
Praha 2 - Vinohrady
map
Tel: +420 224 254 776
images 1, 4, 5: Tomáš Krist for Lidové Noviny; 3, 7: radostfx.cz; all others: Prague Spoon
Monday, November 3, 2008
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 ge
tting 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
Monday, October 27, 2008
Restaurant Review: U Modré Kachničky
This review originally appeared in Czech translation in the 04/10/08 edition of Lidové Noviny.
When U Modré Kachničky (At the Blue Duckling) was in its heyday, the restaurant was locally famous for its romantic atmosphere, home-style food and, at least among my family, its wonky Czech-to-English translations.
The only menu gaffe I can remember now is the name of a certain side dish – "lubricated potatoes" – 
though there must have been many more (on one visit, a friend of my parents' who could understand the German and French translations as well almost peed herself laughing).
Alas, U Modré Kachničky's menu has by now been tidied and polished to a perfectly comprehensible (if not always strictly correct) standard of English. And something else has happened here, too. Over the years, Kachnička's once-elegant interior has become worn and shabby, and the quality of the food has dropped to a pathetic low.
Now before you start composing your letter of complaint to my over-burdened superiors at Lidovky, do me a personal favor and try to picture the following situation in your mind.
After arriving at U Modré Kachničky for a special dinner with your significant other, you peruse the menu and decide to forgo the traditional duck. Instead, you order vepřo knedlo zelo (roast pork with dumplings and cabbage); it's a Czech classic, and one that has disappeared from many pubs and restaurants, so you're delighted to see it on offer.
Unfortunately, by the time the plate reaches your table, the food is almost cold. It includes two very small portions of cabbage, one white and the other red. Both are fairly tasteless and have been thickened by a slimy clear gravy. The špekový knedlík (bacon dumpling) is decent, if a little dry.
But the vepřo itself is the real insult. The meat is of poor quality, stringy and hard to chew. It is also so salty that you can't help but suspect it has been marinated in the stuff, perhaps in an effort to keep the meat fresh. And when you slice into it, you see that the inside is pink: raw, which, of course, cooked pork should never be.
Let's assume you don't have a particular fondness for contracting trichinosis in fancy restaurants. How much would you pay for that vepřo knedlo I just described? 150 CZK? No?
Try 420 CZK.
Those poor American tourists sitting in the other room. If they'd only saved their hard-earned $24 and spent it on an entrée back home, they would be enjoying a meal of an entirely different caliber. But since their dishonest hotel or guidebook must have told them that this was the place to go for authentic Czech fare, they're stuck here. And when they return home, they're bound to tell their friends in America that the food in Prague is expensive and terrible.
No wonder foreign visitors have been keeping their distance from the Czech Republic lately – a bad reputation, after all, spreads quickly.
But for some reason, U Modré Kachničky has managed to keep up a good name, even among locals. Could it be the yellowed newspaper clippings posted outside the door proudly announcing Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman's visit to the restaurant back in 1995? Or maybe Czech people enjoy drinking their Plzeň from 0.33l-bottles for 80 CZK apiece? I'm Slovak, you see, so it's hard for me to be sure.
Seriously, though: a Czech restaurant specializing in roast duck that doesn't serve tapped beer? Either Kachnička is playing some kind of joke on its customers or it really just doesn't give a damn.
I did try one of the duck dishes, by the way. It was served on a sauce of dried plums and slivovice (480 CZK, pictured above). There wasn't much to it – just some stewed prunes that had been marinated in alcohol – so it tasted very boozy and sour. The duck meat was all right, but its skin was bunched-up and soggy, wet rag style. And the potato pancakes served on the side were nothing more than some mashed potatoes (obviously belonging to another dish) that had been pressed into patties and fried on a greasy pan.
I wasn't bowled over by the famous atmosphere, either. Maybe that was because I was seated in a kind of anteroom to the kitchen and toilets and I was treated to the comings and goings of waitstaff printing out checks at the register beside me and noisily gathering cutlery from the sideboard. Sometimes, as servers went in and out of the kitchen, I would catch a glimpse of a bunch of clutter and a dirty-looking tiled floor and hear the yelling of the cooking staff.
Even the main rooms didn't strike me as especially pleasant. The antique furniture and painted murals do lend the place a sense of old-world authenticity, but there is something unattractive about the cold quality of the lighting and the way the tables are all crammed in very close to one another.
Given all this amateurishness, it was surprising to find a service staff so on point. They were professional and friendly even with customers who were obvious tourists. I did have to wonder about the water, though. Non-sparkling mineral water was served from a glass pitcher (for 180 CZK) and tasted suspiciously like the kind you'd find coming from your kitchen tap.
Or maybe the tap water was just my imagination, now biased from having endured that painful vepřo knedlo. Still, the waiters should be pouring water from the bottle into the pitcher in front of their patrons so they can be sure they're not being cheated.
It doesn't really matter, though. Customers are being cheated at U Modré Kachničky either way. And if you don't believe me, try it for yourself. If you can justify those prices for that food, go ahead and write that letter.
Just don't say I didn't warn you.
U Modré Kachničky
Nebovidská 6
Praha 1 – Malá Strana
map
Tel: 257 320 308
images: umodrekachnicky.cz, praguespoon.com
