Haas & Haas

Haas & Haas, on Stephandomplatz in Vienna

International tea house associated with a tea shop

"A variety of international breakfasts," the guidebook said, and the menu at Haas & Haas didn't disappoint. We'd arrived in Vienna by train at 6 am, found ourselves a room and showered, and were hungry for a good Austrian breakfast. Haas & Haas offers not only that, but breakfasts from many other cultures, including Chinese (dim sum), Japanese (miso soup), and American (baked beans and a fried egg). Given the curious composition of the American one, one wonders how authentic the others are, but we were interested in an Austrian breakfast, and we assume they got that right.

Their tea menu reads like a wine list, and you can buy any of their teas from the shop next door (which we did, later on). Tim had a Marille-Pfirsich (apricot-peach) blend that was delicious; Mark thought highly of the coffee. We ordered a sweet pastry, scrambled eggs on toast, and an omelette with herbs.The herbs in the omelette were rather subtle but still good, and the scrambled eggs moist and creamy. The sweet pastry was nice: lightly sweetened dough sprinkled with nuts and a light dusting of powdered sugar.

The ambience was terrific, though. We were seated in a small interior courtyard, decorated with flowers and plants and very peaceful, just a few steps from one of the most popular tourist attractions in Vienna. We may have been there late, but the courtyard wasn't crowded, and the whole breakfast was very relaxing.

The tea shop is worth mentioning too. They have hundreds of tea varieties that all sound delicious, not to mention the shelves full of tiny travel-friendly jams and jellies. We also picked up some jellied fruit candy to snack on, which had very rich flavors. The staff all spoke English and were glad to help us decide among their many products. If you're at Stephansdomplatz around breakfast time, whether you're feeling international or not, this is a great place to unwind before resuming your touristy day.

Staromestska Restaurace

Staromestska Restaurace, Prague

Traditional Czech cuisine on the Old Town Square

(Note: I'm terrible at diacritical marks--will try to edit to add them later.)

If you're going to be a tourist in Prague, you might as well eat out on the sidewalk at the Old Town Square. You'll pay a premium for food you could get cheaper a couple blocks away, but it's worth it to see the twilight descend over the ancient buildings, the lights go on, and the other tourists go walking by. And, as it turns out, the food is pretty good.

There were a few Czech dishes that we'd been reading up on and wanted to try. We didn't get the fried pork knuckle, sadly, but Staromestska did offer roast pork loin with red and white cabbage, and bread and potato dumplings, as well as a roast chicken with pear, fries, curry sauce, and cheese sauce. So we sat on their patio, where the prices are about 40% higher than inside the restaurant--again, you're paying a premium for the location and the view.

The waiter waved us to our choice of table, and understood enough English to help us with our order and inform us that they did not accept credit cards. They did, however, take Euros, which we had enough of. So we sat right on the edge of the square, the last row of tables, as the sun was setting, and sipped our beer and Coke Light (same price), and reflected on how lucky we were to be in Prague.

In Prague, as in much of Europe, you have to request bread; it doesn't come free with meals. So we did, and got a basket with some slices of beer bread--good and sour, like the bread at Allegro--and rodlicky, the traditional Czech banana-shaped roll. The rodlicky was slightly disappointing, almost like a pretzel with its solid but not crispy crust and firm interior. But maybe that's what it's supposed to be like.

Nothing disappointed about the rest of the meal. The chicken and pork both came out tender and juicy. Good fries, firm and crunchy, and good cabbages. You could tell the difference between the more sour white cabbage, which was almost sauerkraut, and the sweeter purple variety, though both were marinated and cooked. The dumplings took the place of our mashed potatoes, thick, bready, and moist. The potato dumplings almost had the consistency of the gnocchi from Allegro, while the bread dumplings tasted like slaps of unsweetened bread pudding. Both good for sopping up gravy or softening the bite of the cabbage.

We sat and ate our Czech meal, watched them fold up the shade umbrellas, and watched the buildings shine under the glow of the lights. Wonderful way to conclude our too-brief visit to Prague. We toasted the city with a promise to come back.

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.