so many kaffeehausen, so little time

This is a post I had started a while ago, a few days after returning from Vienna. It’s finally time I posted it! Hopefully there will be more to follow…

The second day in Vienna (see here for the post on the first day) began without breakfast – the first thing to hit my palate was a supremely rich sacherpunsch (which is essentially a sachertorte, with the exception that the usually dry cake is soaked in rum) and a strong espresso at L. Heiner, a professed favourite of my extremely knowledgable tour guide.

Highlights of the day included nipping quickly through the Naschmarkt (Vienna’s most famous food market, which also hosts a flea market on Saturdays; more on it later) and ending up at Café Drechsler. This old-timer, established in 1919, was a popular haunt of marketgoers and stallholders alike (it only closed for one hour every day, from 2am-3am). So connected were the market regulars to the kaffeehaus that Herr Drechsler himself would bring coffees to them, every day without fail, so they would not have to leave their stalls. It closed several years ago, but was rescued and given a new lease of life thanks to the joint efforts of Manfred Stallmajer and Sir Terence Conran. A regular himself in his younger years, Stallmajer would simply and thriftily order a simple melange until, coerced by a grumpy Drechsler, supplement it with a goulash. To him, it would have been a shame for the space left by the closure to go to a brand like McDonalds or Starbucks (snaking their way around the city, slowly but surely) so he took it into his own hands to relaunch the café.

The aim was simple – to hold onto the principles of the kaffeehaus while bringing it more in line with the 21st century (a manifesto that was, of course, met with criticism and scepticism); anything which was original to the restaurant must be kept, unless it was proven to be beyond repair. The chairs and timber wood panelling were meticulously restored, and some of the original bauhaus fittings (such as the lights) were also kept, though placed differently. The original ceiling of the building was also kept, after stripping away thick decades of yellowed wallpaper (apparently the layers just kept going on one after the other whenever the most recent layer got too stained). Shiny new mirrors have been put in, and distinctively modern transparent light fittings installed in place of the heavy globes that dominate most kaffeehausen.

It felt worlds apart from many of the other traditional kaffeehausen I visited, yet not. The patrons were not, as expected, hipsters or yuppies attracted by the rebranding (though there were a few), but a few gentlemen who looked like comfortable old-timers. These little details, coupled with the ever so subtle ‘upgrades’ of materials and fabrics and combined with the essential air of the café means that the spirit of the kaffeehausen is not lost.

When in Vienna…

Well, no sooner than I had promised posts about Colombia that I’m now posting (live-ish) from my first day in Vienna! Am staying in the positively marvellous but amusingly-yet-aptly-named The Ring (aptly because it’s on the Kärntner Ring road) where I have been – a la Bill Bailey – impressed by the in-room Nespresso machine but lamenting about the lack of tea-making facilities….

Just as well, considering it’s all about coffee – or more like, coffeehouses/kaffeehaus, where the atmosphere and surroundings are infinitely more impressive than the brew – it’s not Italy, afterall.

Rewinding a bit, after flying and making my way to the hotel and consulting my itinerary (which was not crafted by myself, mind you), I decided to forgo the boring option of lunching at the hotel’s At Eight restaurant and set off towards Kärntner Strasse – the city’s main pedestrian drag – in search for some grub. I hadn’t had much time to plan my trip, but one place that stood out was Trzesniewski.

Luckily, it was relatively easy to find… once you turn down that road, look for it on your immediate left. The exterior is so unbelievably nondescript I managed to head about a hundred yards down the road before I realised my bearings didn’t really match up to the map in my hand… so back I went, clocked the slate grey walls and lone door which opened up into a world of miniature egg-based open sandwiches. The ideal tummy filler for me, since by then I only had 2-3 hours before dinner.

Inside, it was just as threadbare and utilitarian as you might have expected from the exterior; just as well, as most customers only have eyes for the glass cabinet holding 20+ varieties of open-faced sandwiches. I was pretty overwhelmed by the choice, and while there’s a useful placard at the front of the shop with English translations of the different types, the identification ‘cards’ in front of each batch of sandwiches don’t. Severe, non-smiling staff had an air of impatience about them, despite the fact it wasn’t very full when I went – so, a little flustered, I just pointed at a few that looked interesting…

Of my selection, the liver was particularly scrumptious, all creamy textures and delicate flavours. Not overly pungent, which always turns me off offal (har har). Herring with onions came a close second, with nice briney fish contrasting with tangy, soft onions. The others were forgettable… Still, it was nice to stand around (there are limited seats) and check out the colourful clientele – everyone from dazed tourists to a particularly gaunt punter who downed his herrings and onions with much gusto, with a man-sized tankard of beer next to him. It’s very much an eat-and-leave place (I’m sure I annoyed the staff to no end by hanging about snapping pics).

After wandering about some more and getting fed up with the gloom and rain, I decided to seek refuge in a kaffeehaus. I’d intended to go to Café Hawelka, but again couldn’t find it (despite it being on the same street!); it’s known to be a very charming mom-and-pop run place (though tragically, Josefine died three years ago) and the intellectual hangout of the 60’s and 70’s. So by chance I wandered past Café Bräunerhof, which had some mighty cosy-looking booths…

I am already in love with the dichotomy between the elegant/opulent surroundings and a fully relaxed, convivial vibe of Viennese cafés. I could have spent my entire evening there, sipping melange and eating my apfelstrudel (could have done with some freshly whipped cream or some vanilla sauce, though!). It’s not hard to see why these places were the favoured haunts of writers, artists and revolutionaries (and the odd poor boy who could take hours of refuge in these formidable institutions for the price of a coffee).

Plenty more cafés to go to tomorrow, which I feel defeats the purpose of the kaffeehaus – I need more langurorous afternoons to fully enjoy them, instead of flitting all about the place!

The Ring
1, Kärntner Ring 8 (+43 122 122/ www.theringhotel.com).

Trzesniewski
1, Dorotheergasse 1 (512 3291/ www.speckmitei.at). Open 8.30am-7.30pm Mon-Fri; 9am-5pm Sat. No credit cards.

Café Bräunerhof
1, Stallburggasse 2 (512 3893). Open 8am-8.30pm Mon-Fri; 8am-6pm Sat; 10am-6pm Sun. No credit cards.

let’s do brunch, dahling, at 202 café

It’s been a while since I’ve touched this blog, but I figured I needed to write something to get the ball rolling again. And what better to begin than at the beginning? And when I mean beginnings, I mean that all-important first meal of the day – breakfast. Or for those more inclined to stay in bed until at least half 10, brunch. And, does anyone else dream about what they’re going to eat when they wake up, just before they go to sleep? I’d made a pledge to go to breakfast/brunch on Sunday morning, and with 202 Café’s menu drifting around in my mind like counting sheep, I couldn’t wait to hop on that train (and tube, and more tube, and walking…) to get there and stuff my face with lots of carbs and wash it all down with copious amounts of maple syrup and tea.

So we merrily put on our best rags (from the east end to the west end, ooh la la!) and braved the gloom and doom and rain. We arrived there just after 11, which was fortunate as we were seated after a few minutes by very chirpy staff. We sat down on pretty little rustic wooden tables, flanked by those with perfect hairdos, v-necked sweaters, wire-rimmed glasses and the sort (and of course the obligatory pram) and ordered drinks – pretty standard cappuccino and earl grey for my companions, and a ‘caribe’ herbal tea pour moi – a black tea infused with guava and strawberry. Was very tempted by the pomegranate oolong but had snootily thought to myself that if I wanted pomegranate oolong, I probably could have bashed open a pom and threw its seeds into my cuppa. So I went for the caribe. Obviously.

No less than 30 seconds from ordering, another waiter came by and chirped happily at us, asking if we’d like to order any drinks. And again (another waitress). Then again (someone else entirely). Which was all very nice, but when we actually wanted to order we couldn’t find a single crisp-shirted, Hollywood-white clad waiter/waitress willing to bestow us with their presence again. Ah well, all was sorted and then we (mentally) clasped our hands together like Mr Burns and eagerly awaited our grub. Had a peer around the room to assess the crowd, and met eyes with George Alagiah. Swanky.

It was a bit difficult choosing between all the delicious sounding breakfast items on the menu: prosciutto and manchego omelette; warm chorizo, roast potato, spinach and egg salad; ricotta and spinach omelette; porridge with cream, sultanas and honey. But in the end we went with the buttermilk pancakes with fruit compote and creme fraiche; the 202 bagel with smoked salmon, cream cheese, capers and onion; and for myself, the french toast with bacon and maple syrup. I’d heard many good things about the french toast, and how can one go wrong with eggy bread, bacon and maple syrup? At this point you’d probably expect the blog to take a turn for the worse, with me shrieking in despair about how 202 had ruined bacon and maple syrup for me forever, but fear not my dear readers. ‘Twas not the case. At all.

It’s definitely no looker, though.

But the bacon was superb and had a very nice chargrilled, smokey flavour. The french toast was a bit difficult to cut into because of the crust, but inside was pillowy soft and yielded even more to my eager incisors when drenched with sweet, sweet maple syrup. Real maple syrup. I am Canadian and I know good maple syrup when I guzzle it. Bacon and maple syrup go together like prosciutto and melon, I swear (and apparently, lemon juice and prosciutto, a flavour combination let onto me by a French woman at a café the other day – so enlightening!).

The pancakes were good but not as good as when I make them, har har! I just thought they weren’t as fluffy as they should be. But my real caveat was with how little pancakes they served for £6.95 – two measley discs! I also felt they were a bits stingy with the amount of creme fraiche and blueberry compote. I felt positively horrible as I chowed down with my big fat thick chunks of eggy french toast, dripping with maple syrup and sandwiched with three large slices of meaty bacon – for the same price – while my friend began to look all pale and wan again a little while after she’d finished her pancakes, like someone who hadn’t eaten at all (we are big eaters in our household).

We were all very impressed by the bagel and smoked salmon though – no skimping on the salmon or cream cheese here! However, we wished the bagel was bigger, or that there was more of it to mop up all the cream cheese with. But on the bright side, lots of fresh, peppery watercress was much appreciated.

The fried green tomatoes, however, should have stayed in Dr Suess’s kitchen (okay, I know it’s green eggs ‘n’ ham and not tomatoes, but you know what I mean!). A dry crust with the flavourless green tomatoes was not the way to go. Reading the menu after, we were surprised that the dish description included ‘chillies’ and ‘mozzarella’, which we didn’t register at all. Oh dear!

We did occasionally steal furtive glances at the tables next to us, who had piles of moist looking scrambled eggs and cute little fat chain links of grilled Italian sausages. But we were pleased. Very pleased, in fact. The service, while a bit dreamy at times, was good and the room is amazing. Did I forget to mention that the café is actually set inside a Nicole Farhi boutique? Eating delicious food surrounded by beautiful people sitting among beautiful clothes and furniture and other such frivolous things we in this humble profession wouldn’t even dream of purchasing. There was a doorman at the loo (and he held the door open for me, bless). By the time we left, the place had some rather big queues. So come early. Terry Durack said it best – “The only real problem is getting a table – unless you’re prepared to pay £4,000 for it.”

202 Café
202 Westbourne Grove
London W11 2RH
020 7727 2772

a case of ‘we already knew that’

Monmouth Coffee aka REAL coffee.

So in London, the peeps over at Which? have finally worked out that chains like Starbucks have been offering the consumer ‘inferior coffee at inflated prices‘. Now tell us something we didn’t know.

I admit to having fallen for Starbucks’ clever marketing strategies when they first arrived in Hong Kong – for a time, I’d drink nothing but caramel macchiatos and frappucinos, I’d never tasted a real espresso before in my life, and for my undeveloped palate, the sweet milky “coffees” served by Starbucks suited me just fine. I was never raised on coffee, but tea (that much is obvious), so the strong bitterness of espresso was never something that attracted me.

Somehow, somewhere along the line I began to appreciate the brew a lot more. Maybe it was from working at the student union bar at my university – oddly, they didn’t make it compulsory for all staff to attend barista training (only about 6-7 of us went) – where I first learned the basics of making coffee. The trainer, a seasoned barista herself, was dead serious about coffee. We had an hour long seminar on the history of coffee, the do’s and don’ts of coffee making, and finally we spent another few hours getting to grips with the espresso machine and coffee grinder. At the end of the day, I’d made the perfect cappuccino that garnered a round of applause from our trainer and the rest of the group. Since then, I’ve never been able to forgive anyone for a poorly made cappuccino – it seems like most people think that its the same thing as a latte.

L: Don’t do it! I still get sucked in by the ‘red cups’.

Another thing I can’t stand about Starbucks is their ‘caramel macchiato’, which is basically a milk drink with oodles of caramel and about a drop of espresso. ‘Macchiato’, meaning ‘marked’ in Italian, the most common usage being in the drink ‘caffe macchiato’ – an espresso with a drop of milk or foam. It’s hilarious how Starbucks turns this right around and marks the milk with very little coffee and a mountain of caramel (if it were a ‘caramel macchiato’, surely it means to be marked with a bit of caramel, not an entire half-bottle?). I still stop by Starbucks occasionally for a quick drink, but it’s never on the merits of its coffee – I go when I suddenly need a sugar fix. I’m going to kick the habit this year, because thinking about how much milk and sugar are in its drinks makes me ill.

So to offset the bitter tone of this entry, here are some places where I’ve had some pretty decent cuppas:

1. Flat White
Located in Soho (right across from Yauatcha), Flat White is one of the best destinations for a decent coffee. Care is given to both making it, and serving to the customer – the first time I went there I was momentarily baffled by the friendliness of the staff, who asked me for my name so they could write it on the cup. Somehow it seems so much nicer when they’ve prepared you your coffee and say, ‘Here you go, Charmaine!’ with a smile. I haven’t tried the signature flat white yet, but their latte was so decadent, creamy, and full of zing.
Flat White, 17 Berwick St, Soho, W1F 0PT, London (020 7734 0370/ www.flat-white.co.uk)

2. Sacred
Located just off Carnaby Street, Sacred is one of my favourite places for a drink and a natter around the area. It’s particularly good in the summer, when you can lounge on the sofas on the ground floor, or the alfreso seating outside of the cafe, soaking up the sun. Their cappucinos may not be up to scratch (still too much milk, too little foam), but the coffee is acceptable and they’ve got a fabulous range for tea-lovers as well. The aboriginal/tribal artefacts that decorate Sacred are fun and give the place its very unique kind of atmosphere.
Sacred, 13 Ganton St (off Carnaby St), W1F 9BL, London (020 7734 1415/ www.sacredcafe.co.uk)

3. Ca Phe VN
(photo credit: Ca Phe VN website)
A lovely couple, Rob and Thuyen, bring their love of Vietnamese coffee to the East London community. They set up stall every week at Broadway Market, selling classic Vietnamese brews as well as more unusual drinks such as artichoke tea (which I haven’t had the courage to try yet). Vietnamese coffee is a result of French colonial rule, and so uses French coffee beans. Ground and placed into a unique metal coffee filter, where the espresso drips slowly through – the resulting espresso is extremely strong, though the strength is offset by sweet and creamy condensed milk. A perfect pick-me-up, especially in the winter cold. I bought one of their single-cup coffee filters (extremely cheap!) and a bag of ground coffee (from Buon Ma Thuot) so my dad and I have been enjoying many a Vietnamese coffee here in Hong Kong. You can find their wares at the Algerian Coffee Store in Soho, or can order online at the Ca Phe VN website, alternatively there are many other stores listed in their stockists page.
Ca Phe VN, Broadway Market, E8, London. Open every Saturday 9am-5pm.

Honorary mentions
Apostrophe
Benugo at the V&A Museum of Childhood, Cambridge Heath Rd, E2 9PA, Bethnal Green, London
Scoop, 40 Shorts Gardens, WC2H 2AB, London (my review)

breakfast in central

When you walk through the fresh food markets of Central, the sights and sounds can be an assault on the senses – on this occasion, so much so that we’d walked right past Hoi Wun without realising it. This was soon rectified, and we made our way into this charming little cha chaan teng (HK-style ‘tea restaurant’) for a much-needed breakfast.

Established in 1972, its humble provenance is reflected in the array of nostalgic childhood toys peppered on the cafe walls. Apparently, the owner’s brother is a designer and uses the cafe as an informal ‘gallery’ of sorts, collecting and displaying relics from the 70’s and 80’s – dolls, old piggy banks, plastic telephones and such. I regret not taking detailed photos of the displays, but may do next time (with permission)… it really is a fascinating place.

As any experienced cha chaan teng goer would know, the ideal seating is always the booth – offering the diner privacy, but with the luxury of seeing everything around them. The whole experience was more about the environment, to be honest. We ordered a simple breakfast of fried eggs and sausages with bread (I know, I know… why?), mainly because we didn’t have the power to stomach their famous satay noodles that early in the morning (and on second thought, I don’t think they serve it until lunch time!). And looking back, I wish I’d ordered a classic hot HK-style milk tea instead of the cold version (the hot drink comes in a quaint, thick rimmed cup so reminiscent of the type used in classic HK tea restaurants like these) – but after walking up and down the street in a wool coat (I underestimate how hot it can get in HK even in the dead of winter), I wanted nothing but ice. With that said, the iced milk tea still slid down like silk – smooth and velvety HK-style milk tea beats any other brew, hands-down.

Next time, I’ll be trying their recommended french toast, or the fresh-from-the-oven ‘pineapple buns’ (if you didn’t know already, the name refers to the somewhat crosshatched pattern on the bun from a crusty sugary layer, and not to its flavour) from their bakery trolley. I think that’s possibly the best way to enjoy Hoi Wun – in the lull of the afternoon, with a hearty cup of hot tea or coffee in one hand, and a bun in the other.

海運冰廳 (Hoi Wun Cafe)
28 Gage St, Central
open daily 7am-5pm
cash only
tel: 2545 4334