The cuisine of the Czech Republic might be a bit abstract in the mind. For instance, Italy conjures up images of creamy gelato and decadent pasta. A place like Jamaica has one sweating just thinking about jerk chicken, and salivating at the thought of tender curry goat. But what can one expect out of Prague’s culinary scene?
With guide books committed to memory, and some knowledge from locals, I was able to spend three days investigating the foodie scene of the city. I included my three most notable experiences.
Svejk Restaurant Malostranska Pivnice.
Visions of Bohemian delights and staples which are heavy on meat, dairy, and carbs are all available at this popular eatery, which also happens to have the longest name in the world. Despite Prague being so heavily touristed, and this being one of the larger restaurants, it was surprising to see, rather, hear that the place was full of locals. Every table around us was speaking Czech.
In the summer, guests sit at rustic picnic tables in the beer garden section of the restaurant. My best friend, Amanda, and I were doted over by a charismatic waiter. Well, until we didn’t tip him over 20% as he requested – then he dropped the act. He tried to trick me into leaving an exorbitant amount for a tip. For once in my life, I was savvy enough to know that I was being conned. I usually panic when I have foreign money in my hands and just throw it in the direction of whoever is asking for it. SORRY. Not this time, pal.
There are racks of baked pretzels on each table and we happily noshed every single one of them in an attempt to soothe our pangs of hunger. Meal service moves slowly at Europe, we couldn’t wait until our food arrived.
However we did, after a while of chowing down, think that it was weird that the patrons around us weren’t doing the same.
Similarly, those same guests looked at us like ravenous beasts as we shoveled the pretzels into our mouths at lightning speed before our waiter even arrived. Classic Americans. We found out there is an extra charge for the twisty treats, but the price per pretzel is so cheap that it’s negligible for the most part.
To start we each ordered a large beer, which cost a grand total of one dollar each. Other traveling friends had told me of the absurdly low price of beer in Prague, but I had to drink it to believe it. According to the Wall Street Journal, the Czech Republic has the highest rate of beer consumption per capita in the world. It’s lovingly referred to as “liquid bread” by citizens and is sold at a price lower than water and soft drinks.
As we sipped in the sweltering sun, we took time to look over the menu and low key people watch. As already mentioned, I was surprised to see that many of the people dining around us appeared to be locals of either the country or the city. Having some Bohemian ancestry in my family, I found that a lot of the local men kind of looked like my dad in one way or another. But really, most people who laugh at their own jokes over a pint of beer remind me of my dad.
A Precarious Pork Knee Situation.
Beyond everyone always having a full mug of pivo, people were generally full of good cheer. An interesting observation considering that so many of the locals that I met in Prague had a pretty closed persona. Musing on this, I noticed a waiter bring out some bizarre looking giant slab of meat on a spit to the girls next to us. I had never seen anything like it before.
I’d read about “pork knuckles” in every guide book and blog post that I combed. So I just had to know if this gargantuan pile of carnivorous wonder was the famed pork knuckle that I had read about. As an American, I asserted my classless God-given right to interrupt the peaceful private meal of the women next to us to get what I needed.
I leaned over and asked one of the women who ordered the dish what she was eating. She responded first by saying something in Czech. I think it loosely translated to, “It’s pork knee. Now get the fuck away from me before I kill you.” Seeing my stupid, smiling face still looking at her and waiting, she surmised that my Czech was non existent and with eyes that wished they could shoot knives into my face, she said, “Pork knee” and then resumed pretending I didn’t exist.
Pork knee? All I’d heard about was pork knuckle…I guessed that the two might be the same thing.
I didn’t know if I wanted to eat a pig’s knee. I’d never eaten anything’s knee, let alone a pig. How do you even eat a knee? To give us time to think over our feelings on eating something’s knee, we ordered an appetizer. Being birds of a fatty, we had both lit up at seeing “beer cheese” as an option. Visions of creamy fondue filled both of our minds, and we were practically drooling with anticipation until it made its arrival.
You know when your Tinder date looks like a “10” on the app, but shows up looking like a “6” and you fight the urge to ask, “What gives you the audacity?” instead of saying hello? That’s what happened when beer cheese sat on our table.
This was room temperature, pungent, soft cheese with mustard on the side and lukewarm, foamy beer poured over it. It was as if all of the ingredients had sat in the sun for a few hours before making their way to us. The dish was palatable, but not something I would order again. Ever.
Having been disappointed by the starter, I was hesitant to order the pork knee. But, when in Prague, do as the mean women next to you do.
Sometime later, the pork knee came out in all of its rock-star glory with an array of groupie sauces to dip it in. Cue Gordon Ramsay saying, “wow…wow…wow.”
Things to Know About Pork Knee.
Pork knee (knowing how much the girl next to me hated me, it was probably pork ass to be honest) was unlike anything I’ve had. If we have to play a game of associations, possibly it is like a pork chop. A big fatty pork chop. A few things to bear in mind:
- It is EXTREMELY fatty, almost grossly so. I LOVE the fat on steak and meat, and even I couldn’t get past a few bites. There is a good chance that this was whale blubber.
- It’s HUGE and it’s FILLING. How the fuck anything could have such big fatty knees is beyond me. You can eat this thing for an hour and not even come close to finishing. I’d say it’s best to share with a friend.
- It’s really chewy. If you’re looking to exercise your way into a chiseled jaw – try pork knee.
Although I didn’t find my new favorite food in either of these choices, there were some winners, including some of the sausages that we tried as an appetizer. This restaurant has a dizzying array of food choices. Despite me picking mostly the wrong ones, I firmly believe that for authentic local cuisine in Prague’s culinary scene, this place IS worth checking out. Knowing what I know now, I should have picked something that I knew more about. Not something ambiguous like an animal’s knee.
Pastar.
What kind of self respecting New Yorker and Italian doesn’t crave pasta every other day? I’d gone far too long without a bowl of noodles in my face. Four days to be exact. I could feel weakness, confusion, and flu-like symptoms setting in. A novel Carb-ona withdrawal virus if you will, readers in 2020. We trekked all the way to a highly rated Italian restaurant which was CLOSED. I slammed my open palms against the door and slid to the floor in defeat and depression. Naturally, we had to go to a nearby bar to numb the pain and disappointment. Ordering my first Aperol Spritz and realizing it tasted like armpits really added salt to the open wound.
A quick internet search led us to a new found, equally highly rated Italian restaurant.
Pastar was the welcome real-life mirage of noodley goodness in the bleak, barren desert of Prague’s culinary scene, which seemed only to offer sausages and pork knees. The front of the store offers a vision of what heaven might look like. There is an impressive meat and cheese selection for purchase, as well as various spreads and jarred items. We continued walking toward the back, where the dining area aesthetic was a brick pizzeria- meets-elegant-cafe.
Service was attentive and quick. The pasta was rich, fresh, and way too legit for me to quit. It was not “Czech Republic’s low budget version of a pasta,” but instead the real stuff, undoubtedly home made. Our friendly waiter insisted that a girls’ night out should be met with full glasses of champagne at all times, and, how could we resist? We didn’t, and had several glasses because we’re teachers and can afford such luxuries. (We split a half bottle of bubbly is the real story.)
The wait staff were among the friendliest people we met in Prague.
It seemed to be a theme that the closer to food, the happier the locals. I ordered a diving tagliatelle served with ground nuts and a light sauce. The portion size was perfect.
An over zealous waitress poured complimentary shots of lighter fluid for us at the end of our meal. The shots were definitely not optional, as she had given an impromptu soliloquy about the history and importance of the turpentine before pouring it. To be given a shot of this stuff at the close of a meal was, as she told us, a Czech tradition of great honor and prestige. After taking a very small sip and smelling it, I think she meant to say, “this is how we terminate the lives of felons on death row, with this drink right here!”
It being a clear liquid, we made a plan to pour the nail polish remover into our glasses of water when the waitress walked away. Amanda rid her contents into the glass in one swift motion. Every time I tried to dispose of mine, someone popped up out of nowhere asking us how everything was going. In a three second break from attention, I got rid of the shot. Our waitress was incredibly excited that we finished our shots and asked us to have more. I briefly wondered if she was trying to murder us, but she and the rest of the staff were too nice to be assassins.
In a city that at most times felt unfamiliar and cold despite it being the throes of summer, Pastar offered a delicious home sickness remedy composed of familiar elements of Italian food, welcomed drink, and pleasant conversation.
Cafe Savoy.
Enjoy being a part of the refined side of Prague’s culinary scene. Chandeliers, beautifully patterned walls, and large picture windows cultivate an unmistakable air of sophistication at the famed Cafe Savoy. And boy, if I’m not just the EPITOME of sophistication! (See photo of me pouring hot chocolate into a mug and spilling it everywhere.)
Cafe Savoy entered Prague’s culinary scene in 1893 and has been inviting patrons in to marvel at its opulence over some truly top notch cuisine, mainly its beautifully crafted pastries. The lavish decor, and haute servers dressed in crisp white button downs and black elbow sleeves truly capture the grandeur of the time period.
The dessert experience? To die for! Dessert here is the perfect way to cap off the evening. Walking up to the display case, customers get their choice from several of the day’s pastries which are all decadent, and the size of each one is generous. For history buffs, culture fans, and sweets enthusiasts, a must visit. Late night is an ideal time to visit the cafe, the lines are typically not outrageously long.
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