Allegro

Allegro, in the Four Seasons Hotel in Prague

Italian cuisine in a luxurious four-star setting.

 

In all our research on Prague restaurants, the Four Seasons' Allegro kept coming up. Not as authentic Czech cuisine, just as one of the best restaurants in the city. So we figured we had one full night in Prague, we'd give it a shot.

Walking in, you get the impression of elegance immediately. It's quiet and dim without being dark. Windows give a lovely view of the river and, if you're in the right seat, the Charles Bridge. Otherwise, you might be "stuck" with a backdrop of wood paneling, floral arrangements, and simple colorful art.

Service was generally excellent. We were never presented with one course before another was finished, and all of our instructions about splitting dishes were followed to the letter. The only problem was that the portions were somewhat larger than we'd been expecting, but more on that later.

The first course, or zeroth course, perhaps, was an amuse-bouche of duck with bacon, marscapone cheese, and glazed fig. We enjoyed it: the duck didn't overpower the other flavors, melding well with the salty bacon and sweet fig.

We particularly love bread, as you may have gathered. The bread basket was outstanding here. Besides the standard white country bread we'd been given to dip in olive oil at the beginning of the meal, we also had a thick black bread, sour and seedy, but not as thick and sour as some of the ones we've had in California, so it was to both of our tastes. There was also a light beer bread with a lighter sour taste, almost like a softer sourdough, crispy breadsticks, a potato bread with onion topping that was as light as focaccia, and a fruit bread which, sadly, we did not get to try. The only disappointment was a bland flatbread.

We didn't want to fill up on bread, but we couldn't help ourselves--until the appetizer arrived. "Variations on tuna" was the official name, presented as three small dishes on a plate: tuna tartare with a refreshing cucumber jelly and a slightly sweet green tomato foam; seared tuna over "panzerella" (?), a seasoned diced tomato mixture that also included some dried mango on top; and a variation on a nicoise salad, with cooked tuna over greens, potato, cucumber, and tomato with a balsamic reduction. The tartare had a very summery taste, between the cucumber jelly and the celery and bell pepper mixed in with the tuna. We didn't like the mango on the seared tuna, but the rest of it went together well, the creamy tuna with the sharp tomatoes. And the nicoise was very nice, proving to have egg, green bean, and olive in addition to the potato, cucumber, and tomato--quite a lot to fit into one small sampling, but an excellent combination, also rather summery and light.

For the middle course, we'd selected the homemade gnocchi, and this might have been the highlight of the meal. It was served with morels, tiger prawns, chopped langoustine, and walnuts in a zucchini sauce with carrot foam. The gnocchi was terrific, not doughy nor as heavy as we're used to, with a great potato flavor that the sweet zucchini sauce combined with to make it hard not to shovel the whole plate down. The morels and shellfish were fresh, good earth and sea flavors to go with the potato and veggie. We like European walnuts, thicker and meatier than their American counterparts. The carrot foam we weren't sure was necessary, but it was a nice visual touch to an overall yellow-orange dish.

While we were recovering from that, they brought out the duck to show us the cuts they were going to cook so we could approve of it. The skin was brushed with a sweet glaze, and we each got a small leg portion and a larger breast portion. Interesting difference between the two: the texture of the breast meat was thicker but the flavor less rich than the leg meat, which overall we both preferred. We couldn't finish that course, much as we wanted to, because we'd run out of room. It turned out to be lucky that we didn't try.

We attempted to decline dessert, but the waiter talked us into a lemon sorbet by telling us that it aided in digestion. All right, we said, one to share. Unfortunately, that opened the door to a pre-dessert offered by the chef, a plum tart topped with plum sorbet, which was really good, but by the time our individual lemon sorbets arrived--one each--we were groaning. Digestion, we said. We need help with that. So we ate the (very good, very lemony) lemon sorbet--and the attached little wafer cookie--and sat back, thinking, fools that we were, that the meal was over.

When the waiter brought the bill, he also brought along a small tray of petits-fours. Upon seeing our expressions, though, he asked if we wanted them added to the box we'd requested for our duck (and the remains of the bread basket). Please, please, we said. He was good enough to box up another set, but even though he left the original eight on our table, we resisted the urge to eat them.

And then, on our way out, they gave us macaroon cookies! We'll tell you how they are when we finally get around to eating them. But we have to recommend Allegro for anyone seeking fine dining in Prague. It's pricey--dinner was as much as our hotel room for the night, almost--but it's truly an experience to cherish and remember if you want to be pampered for one night, and feel like the royalty that once lived here.

Cafe Savoy

Cafe Savoy, Prague

Cafe serving full meals and wine as well as French pastries and coffee

This Parisian-style cafe was founded in 1893 in an old apartment building. It's been continuously in operation since then, through Communist Party rule, when officials met there to consider new memberships, and the current Czech Republic, where it's now a historical destination with a great kitchen and wine list. The interior is very modern, with some nice touches: when you walk downstairs to the bathrooms, you pass the wine cellar and can continue down to overlook the bakery.

The ornate ceiling dates from the early days of the cafe, was covered up, and recently rediscovered. Its colorful, floral designs, almost Middle Eastern, give the cafe a distinctive character that shows in the menu offerings, the modern furnishings, and the service. Our helpful waiter recommended the Savoy Cake when we were lost in the dazzling array of pastry choices, and offered to bring a fresh coffee when Mark's cup spilled out into the saucer.

We wanted to get the traditional European (more German/Austrian) "Kaffee und Kachen." Mark got cafe au lait, and Tim got fresh ginger tea. Really fresh ginger tea, basically just ginger root steeped in hot water. The Savoy Cake we shared had an outer layer of marzipan enrobing layered chocolate cake and cherry.

It was a great place to sit and enjoy the late afternoon sunlight on the cobblestone streets of Prague. It's easy to let yourself drift back there to the early 20th century, with the nearby bridge over the Vaclav and the palace and St. Vitus's Cathedral looking down from the hill. Or you could be in the seventies, discussing Party politics with your fellow officers. It's not even bad to imagine it's a late summer afternoon in the twenty-first century, and you have nothing better to do than while away an hour with a friend over Kaffee und Kachen.

Hash House A Go-Go

Hash House A Go-Go, San Diego
Farmer's breakfasts from the midwest (Indiana, specifically)--good food and lots of it

It was the name that attracted us to the Hash House A Go-Go, for (we hope) obvious reasons. Not just a Hash House--a Hash House A GO-GO. We love that. But you know, despite the name, it could still be just a Waffle House in hot pants. Looking at the menu actually drove us to visit.

The first thing we noticed, walking in, was how enormous the plates of food are. They were serving platters, for cryin' out loud, full of eggs and hash and fruit and biscuits and all kinds of other good stuff. We saw two immense people devouring two Brobdingnagian plates of waffles and pancakes. Intimidated, we decided to split a plate of hash--you can't go to the Hash House A Go-Go and not get the hash. They had a special hash with wild boar and roasted red pepper, plus the usual cheese, potatoes, mushrooms, and two eggs any style. Plus a biscuit approximately the size of my head. In addition to that, Mark ordered a pancake--"it's just one pancake?" he asked the waiter, who affirmed that yes, indeed, it was.

The place looks like a midwestern diner with a bar on one side. There are pictures of tractors and farms all around, and a strange whiplike rope artistically arranged over an archway in the center of the dining room (one can only imagine the owner saying "we have to put something there). The people, too, seem very midwestern--San Diego may be home to the most sexy people in the country, but those people generally don't eat at the Hash House A Go-Go.

Our one pancake arrived first. It was, we kid you not, the size of a car tire. We've had pizzas that were smaller than this pancake. In its center it was nearly an inch thick, and its diameter was clearly over a foot. It was four pancakes that had banded together to form one Super Pancake. It was a pan-sheet-cake. With it, amusingly, they gave us a tiny little jug of syrup. We had to ask for seconds.

The hash, when it came, was restrained by comparison. A big mound of boar, peppers, potatoes, eggs, cheese, and mushrooms, it was all very tasty. Mark didn't like the boar--somewhat gamey, he said--but Tim liked it all. The potatoes were big, nice and crispy, the cheese wasn't overwhelming, the peppers were well done, and the eggs a nice complement. We enjoyed the biscuit, too, though it was more cakey than flaky.

Not a place to go if you're watching your weight, but what breakfast place is? We regard this as the Buca di Beppo of breakfast places, a midwestern diner in the land of the skinny. Go with a group and share around. We do need to drag some people back there.

South Street Cheesesteaks

South Street Cheesesteaks, L.A.
Closest thing to Philly on the West Coast

There are a lot of places in California now that purport to offer "authentic Philadelphia cheesesteaks." We've tried most of the ones in the Bay Area, but some web browsing turned up an interesting place in West L.A., a shop called South Street Cheesesteaks that imports Amoroso Rolls from Philadelphia.

Amoroso are the rolls used by Jim's Steaks on South Street, one of Tim's favorite places. Unfortunately, they don't do chicken steaks--they're strictly old-school. South Street Cheesesteaks, being a California eatery, does chicken steaks, mushroom steaks, and so on. But we had to plan our trip out to hit them on the way to San Diego this last year, because we're not often in L.A. anymore.

We'd tried back in April, the last time we drove down, but were thwarted by road construction. This time, all went smoothly, landing us at their doorstep with nearly an hour to spare. The shop has the usual decor for a California cheesesteak place: Philly sports memorabilia, including old baseball and football cards; Philly newspaper replicas (covering the tabletops), and this one had a wall of famous Philadelphians (Tim isn't on it yet). The ambiance was somewhat tainted by the chrome and red naugahyde chairs and the black and white checkerboard floor that looked like they'd raided a fifties diner, but overall they did a pretty good job with it.

The girl at the counter wasn't too thrilled to sell us the cheesesteaks, even when Tim told her he was from Philly and had come all this way for the bread. Her comment was, "hope you like it. Some people do and some don't. There's a real difference of opinion." Under duress, she recommended the spicy fries as a side, though she worried they'd be too spicy for Tim. He assured her he's been practicing.

The fries were the weakest part of the meal, but authentic Philly fries for all that (would've been better with cheese). The bread was sublime, perfectly soft, falling apart from the juices. The chicken and sauteed onions, suspended in a matrix of provolone and white American, gave your teeth something to bite into that they didn't want to let go of. We tried the pizza steak and the cherry pepper steak (medium spicy), and both were terrific. Pizza sauce just the way they do it in Philly, a good rich marinara, and peppers with enough zing to make your mouth tingle for the cold (root) beer. We have to get hold of those rolls somehow--they're exactly right for the sandwich. Other bread comes close, but there's no mistaking the real thing once you've tried it.

The most amusing part of the whole place was that the bathroom light wasn't working. It's a small one-person bathroom, and the switch turns on the fan but nothing else. The counter girl and her friend told us someone "went in and just took the light right out." So, as Kevin Smith would say, we had to piss in the dark.

For a cheesesteak like that, they could've taken out the lights of the whole restaurant. We'll definitely be going back, next time we have to drive through L.A.

Cascadia

Cascadia, Seattle
Upscale restaurant in Seattle's Belltown area

We were meeting a friend in Seattle for dinner. He had heard good things about Cascadia and the chef had just agreed to sell the restaurant and take over in the kitchen of the new Four Seasons this fall, so it was an obvious choice for a group of foodies.

Rather than eat in the dining room, we opted for the bar, with large windows onto the sidewalk for people- and weather-watching, and a nice view of the sound. The bar menu, more casual, is famous for their mini-burgers and snowball martinis. Mark tried the snowball martini, a vodka concoction with, yes, a small snowball in it. It comes with a small sprig of fir in it, giving the drink a real alpine flavor. Mark enjoyed it so much he had two.

Service was impeccable up until the food was ordered. As seemed to happen a couple times in Seattle, we weren't completely understood when we ordered the mini-burgers, and our waitress brought twice as many as we'd actually ordered. Fortunately, they were good enough that we finished most of them. Maybe it's our California accent.

The mini-burgers are indeed worth the trip. You can get beef, salmon, or veggie, all of which got high marks. The salmon is an actual ground salmon burger rather than a small fillet of salmon on a bun. Mark liked the beef, while Tim's favorite was the veggie, with a good curry flavor, especially with a fried onion topping. We also got dijon, cheddar cheese, bleu cheese, chipotle pepper dip, and a cone of French fries, which scored pretty high on our French fry scale: thin and crispy, good potato taste.

The only other thing we ordered was the artisan cheese plate, offering a good variety of cheeses: a bleu, a couple soft cheeses (including a cow cream cheese that we all liked), a white cheddar, and a Swiss. We had trouble picking a favorite from the plate, but the bleu was very popular: nice, creamy, and sharp. All the breads supplied with it were nice too, crispy flatbreads and crunchy breadsticks.

Even the lounge menu was rather pricey, but for location and ambiance, you won't be disappointed. We don't know what Cascadia will be like after it's sold, but if you can get there this summer, check out the mini-burgers and enjoy the view out the window.

Etta's

Etta's, near Pike Place Market in Seattle
Another Tom Douglas restaurant, focused on seafood.

The one thing Etta's has that none of the other Tom Douglas restaurants do is a nice view of the waterfront and the foot traffic near the market. Most of the tables in the narrow dining area are close enough to the window to take advantage of the view. The view inside isn't bad either. Like the Dahlia Lounge, Etta's is decorated primarily with colorful blown glass; an assortment of ducks adorn the wall, and small hanging lights illuminate the tables when the sun sets.

The other constant across the Tom Douglas restaurants is outstanding service, and Etta's is no exception. Our attentive waiter had the kitchen split our plates for us, and no course arrived before we were done with the previous one. The plates were all very pretty, too, colorful and garnished with colored oils.

The menu is fairly simple, focused on seafood and divided into categories: Raw / Fried / Steamed / Soups & Salads / Main Courses.

The appetizers really shone. The clam chowder - becoming a staple of our meals - included a distinctive thick smoked bacon. It was mild but pretty good in general. Our favorite were the mini Dungeness crab cakes. Tom Douglas has published a book on crab cakes, and these were mostly crab, with seasoned breading that complemented the crab taste rather than overwhelming it. They were served with a green relish, with a vegetable consistency but a fruity taste.

We always check the bread, too, and they served us delicious olive bread. The light, crispy crust gave a satisfactory crunch to the bread, and there were plenty of ripe olives.

The spinach salad was interesting. We really liked the mustardy dressing, and the salad came with onions, curried cashews (unique and yummy), pears, grapes, radicchio. Overall there was more "stuff" than spinach, but still everything went together well. The different components provided a lot of different textures, with sweet fruit and sharp onions harmonizing under the dressing.

For the main course, the Troll Salmon with Etta's Rub With Love, asparagus, shitake relish, cornbread pudding. Good salmon, mild flavor. Mark was disappointed that the flavor wasn't stronger. A good rub should be a boost to the fish's natural flavor, but this one was just kind of there, not outstanding or distinctive. It was asparagus season, however, and it showed. Tom Douglas restaurants create their menus based on what's in season, and the asparagus here had a great crunch to it, just beautifully done. Shitakes added a nice flavor accent with good earthy mushroom flavor. Tim liked the cornbread pudding, which reminded us of quiche: the egg flavor was noticeable even over cornbread. Mark felt it was a little bland.

Etta's ended up being a good dinner in a great location. For a Tom Douglas restaurant, it fell a little shy of the others, but that's like being the worst Pixar movie. If you're down by Pike Place Market, and want a good sit-down dinner, you couldn't do much better.

Cafe Martorano

Cafe Martorano, in the Rio in Las Vegas
Restaurant/nightclub with an owner who's a personality and the best Italian food this side of south Philly. Seriously.

We really owe this discovery to Joe Posnanski, who wrote about the Fort Lauderdale location without mentioning it by name, and to the commenter on his blog who named the restaurant and mentioned the Vegas location. Once we got to Vegas, we saw signs for it all over the place, but as it's at the Rio, it's doubtful we would've made the trip or the reservation without the initial recommendation. But boy oh boy, are we glad we did.

We'd never been to the Rio before, even though Penn and Teller and the famed Voodoo Lounge are there. It's an interesting casino, very obviously directed at the mid-twenties crowd: things stay open a little later, it's got that trashy carnival atmosphere, and there's a lot of bustling activity, kind of like a younger TI or a more flashy Excalibur. Cafe Martorano is located on the second floor of the main concourse, facing onto the enormous floating head that is the centerpiece of a regular show (which we did not, alas, see).

We'd gotten there a little early (I built in an allowance for a late arrival by our flight, which miraculously did not happen), so we checked in at the hostess stand and browsed the pictures of the owner with various celebrities while waiting for our table. I should add that both the woman who took the reservation over the phone and the hostess, upon learning that it was our first time, made special note to tell us how good the food was. Restaurant employees don't often brag about that, in my experience, so it felt genuine to us.

In fact, the staff all around were not only extremely friendly and helpful, they were all very proud of their restaurant and their food. Our waiter, Ken, helped us settle on the "South Philly style" calamari for our appetizer, several times using the phrase "out of this world" to describe the dishes. He also told us about the owner, Steve Martorano, who has his image on t-shirts (one hanging right near our table) and his imprint on the simple menu with an instruction at the bottom: "No substitutions. This is how I cook. Please enjoy and don't break balls." It doesn't get more South Philly than that.

"Is he a nice guy?" our waiter asked us, rhetorically. "No. But he's a great guy and a great personality." He wasn't in attendance at the Rio location, but was expected back for the wrap-up of the WSOP. Our waiter was also very proud of the famous people who were dining there that night, among them a rap star/actor and a professional football player.

But the food was, believe it or not, the main attraction. For the rest of our dinner, we picked a side of spaghetti, because in a new Italian place you want to see how they handle the basics, and the special: sea bass with jumbo lump crab and shrimp, spring pea and cheese risotto, and sauteed spinach with chilis.

Spaghetti in the United States has become a comfort food, any old pasta with tomato sauce thrown over it, maybe with meatballs or sausage or (if you're in the midwest) chopped-up hot dogs added. I tell you, this spaghetti we had at Cafe Martorano was to regular American spaghetti what champagne is to Martinelli's Sparkling Apple Juice. You can see the relationship, but wow, this was just in another league entirely. Thick, rich spaghetti sauce made from olive oil and San Marzano tomatoes, pasta cooked perfectly al dente, with garlic and wine to season it. It was just spaghetti, but sometimes when you get a simple food done to perfection, it's better than anything fancy. A couple months after our meal there, the spaghetti is what I remember the most. It's the one dish I would say we have to get again.

Not to say the rest of the food was bad. The sea bass was marvelously light and flaky, the shrimp and crab topping a nice accent to it. The smooth, creamy risotto matched it well, and the sauteed spinach had good texture and taste (that is, not slimy), except when one bit into a chili by accident. We didn't think we'd be able to eat light at a traditional Italian place, but it worked well and we had room for...

Tiramisu. This was really just good, not terrific, not overwhelming. It was the perfect size portion, though. We enjoyed the thick, not-too-sweet cream and the strong coffee taste (yes, even Tim the non-coffee-drinker).

We'd go back to Cafe Martorano again just for the food. The atmosphere and stellar service was the crab on the sea bass, so to speak. We're already planning our next dinner for our next trip to Vegas.