DBMA: Londontown
In which I describe in excruciating detail what I had on a recent visit to London. Contains spoilers.
Martinis, food and all sorts of other debauchery
In which I describe in excruciating detail what I had on a recent visit to London. Contains spoilers.
In which I recount the various ways in which to eat blood. Not really. It’s just about a pretty good restaurant and their blood sausages.
In which I write about a restaurant in the beautiful city of Belgrade (featuring a dish that sports meat with meat!).
This is a rather charming posting about how I went to have a burger at a restaurant. It’s charming, but also exciting and will quite probably change your life. FOREVER!
There are times for caviar and there are times for, well, ham and eggs. Accordingly, there are places that serve caviar and there are places that serve ham and eggs.
Now, Café Mocca, a most charming little café situated inside a trainstation in Vienna’s 18th district definitely doesn’t serve caviar. Why? Mainly because caviar is something for pretentious morons with more money than sense, and Café Mocca simply doesn’t cater to that kind of audience.
What they do serve, apart from various breakfasts and a selection of soups, salads and sandwiches, are ham and eggs. And they do it in style.
The egg’s always perfectly cooked, so the first cut will release delicious yolk, which can then be scooped up with pieces of a roll that’s crisp on the outside and most fluffy on the inside. The ham? Well, it’s warm, slightly grilled ham. Basically, if the ham isn’t of questionable quality to begin with, there’s not a whole lot you can do wrong there. And they don’t.
The whole thing is topped off with generously sprinkled chive.
It is, to be frank, a perfect serving of ham and eggs. So go there, have some of it, but don’t do it on Sunday noons, because that’s when I’m going and I WILL GET MOST ANNOYED WHEN YOU’RE BLOCKING MY TABLE. Just saying.
As some of you may know, family and friends made it so that I’ve now got quite the connection to Sweden. Hence, I’ve spent a fair amount of time there during the last few years and of course indulged on what they have to offer culinary-wise.
Inhabited by bearded, long-haired brutes commonly known as Vikings up until a few decades ago (I think) the cuisine of Sweden is only slowly recovering from centuries of a meat and potatoes diet.
Fortunately, that transition still goes on, and so the Swedes still love their meatballs with mashed potatoes. Traditionally served with cucumber-salad, a nutty sauce containing all sorts of things that make it taste all nutty and delicious, these Köttbullar, as they are called by those capable of the language (or of remembering a foreign word, which would be me), are something everyone who ventures onto Swedish soil should try.
The picture you’re seeing above was taken inside Östermalm’s Saluhall. It’s a beautiful food-market in Östermalm, probably the most affluent of Stockholm’s districts. Many food stalls also sport bar-like areas where hungry shoppers can indulge on Swedish cuisine.
So if you ever happen to be in the lucky position of spending time in Stockholm and are hungry for some real Köttbullar, do go there.
By the way, you might be familiar with an outfit named IKEA. Even though they do serve something there named Köttbullar, it’s in no way comparable to the real deal. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have them, because frankly, after an hour of walking past cupboards, bed, cuttlery, lamps and whatever else that store sells, I too am quite partial to what they offer in their cantine. Err, restaurant. Just don’t expect it to be anything like the real deal.
For everyone who isn’t Austrian, or Viennese for that matter, the Plachutta restaurants won’t be that well known. For all the others, the name evokes images of traditional Austrian cuisine coupled with loads of celebrities – A to Z – who love being seen there. And if you’re lucky, you’ll even end up on the walls of their restaurants or on their website.
Anyway, even though I’ve spent the better part of ten years in Vienna now, I never managed to visit one of their restaurants. I guess one of the reasons was that they’re madly expensive. But recently I had the chance to visit Plachutta Hietzing with the prospect of not having to actually pay for it myself, and well, so I did.
Since I had published a review of a Zwiebelrostbraten at a less fancy place just a couple of days before, I decided to opt for another Zwiebelrostbraten, simply so I could compare and see whether all the talk about best Austrian cuisine and stuff was actually true.
And I must say, yes, it is quite true. First of all, when you’re at Plachutta, you don’t have one server. You’ve got two, three or four. I had shredded roast potatoes with my Zwiebelrostbraten and they weren’t served on my plate. No, they were served in a tiny pan. Or pot. A tiny pot-pan. Anyway, they were served in that and a server came and put half of it on my plate, then the rest was put on a heating device in that tiny pot-pan thing. To keep it warm, of course.
And this actually happened with every meal. The minced meat got peas in a tiny pot-pan. The fish got potatoes in a tiny pot-pan. The fried chicken was actually served in a basket. And pieces of the chicken lifted from the basket onto a plate. By the server.
Now, I found that most peculiar. And even though it’s a total waste of manpower, I still found it quite cute. I might have to get someone to do this for me at home.
But on to the important stuff. How was the Zwiebelrostbraten? Well, it was delicious. Very tender beef, neither too salty nor too bland, with very crisp onions on top and a good amount of broth for the whole thing to soak in. The shredded roast potatoes were equally well prepared, and came, of course, with their own server.
So yes, it is worth going to Plachutta, if only for the experience of having three people serving your meal instead of, you know, one. Finally, here’s an image of above described Zwiebelrostbraten. I must admit, you can’t really see the beef and it looks a bit, well, not that great, but that’s mainly attributed to a lack of photographic skills.
