Salzberg, a restaurant in the calmer area of Vienna’s 6th district, serves a great combination of traditional Austrian cuisine and more alternative, contemporary visions (I think I may have that wording from their website). They offer a vast array of vegetarian dishes, one of which is spinach-dumplings (basically a dumpling with loads of spinach worked into it, go figure). Being a carnivore myself, I opted against these (but managed to snap a picture anyway) and decided to feast on another staple of Austrian cuisine, the Zwiebelrostbraten (I’ve written here about it extensively, just have a look at this one posting).

It also features a patio during summer, so it’s definitely a place to go for either full-fledged dinners or a drink after work (their wine-cellar is well-stocked too).

Marvel below at an image of Zwiebelrostbraten.

Rarely, I’m in the mood for something sweet. Since I’m a lazy bum, it has to be quick and easy. Enter semolina pudding.

It works like this: heat half a litre of milk, then add two tsp. of sugar and four tsp. of semolina. Semolina, despite its funky name, is something you can buy at every grocery store. Sugar, not as exotically named but still one hell of a great ingredient, too.

Bring it to a boil, but don’t forget to stir while doing so. You wouldn’t want your milk to burn. Once it’s started boiling, very drastically reduce heat, until it’s on a very, very, very low boil. Stir and wait for about five to ten minutes, until it’s thick but not too thick. If I were hard-pressed I’d say: make sure it’s somewhere between thick and too thick.

Pour it into a bowl, sprinkle it with a mixture of sugar and cinnamon and you’re done. This is literally the easiest pudding ever, but it tastes like a thick slice of heaven. Pudding-heaven, that is.

This is Viennese Beef soup. It’s a great kind of soup for whenever you’re in the mood for some beef. And soup. It’s easy to make, requires only an onion, a few carrots, celery, leek, parsley, a few bones and some beef. To top it off, chives.

Cut the onion in half, place it in a large, heated pot, face down, until it’s dark. Very dark. Then add rinsed beef, bones and copious amounts of cold water. Bring it to a boil, in the course of which you’ll want to skim the brown froth collecting at the top. When no froth is collecting anymore, add the carrots, celery and some peppercorns. Then let this thing boil at low heat for a while. And by while I mean about three to four hours. If you’re like me, you can also add a couple of soup cubes. Just to make sure, you know.

Half an hour before serving, add leek and parsley, remove the bones, cut the beef in easy pieces and throw it back in. Add whatever  you want for substance (I use Vermicelli), sprinkle with fresh chives when serving.

And that, my friends, is it.

I went there for work, but of course visited my delightful sister as well, who, with an uncanny sense for what constitutes deliciousness in the eyes of this glutton, led me to a few interesting eateries.

Let’s start with that ham sandwich at Homemade, a small café in East Dulwich, where ham is cut in exactly the kind of way I prefer (and the way most Brits do, too): big, fat chunks.

It’s a nice place, not exactly expensive, and it does actually taste quite homemade (their bread is most agreeable). If you want to read a more thorough and undoubtedly more eloquent review of the place, have a look at this article on Eats Dulwich (ha, clever!)

Next up was Ping Pong in Soho, an in my eyes rather oddly named, upscale chain of Chinese restaurants. According to some sources on the internet, their service is rather shit, but that wasn’t the impression I had. Except, maybe for the fact that they accidentally served seafood in a vegetarian Dim Sum. Ooops. Fortunately, my sister, who is of the vegetarian conviction, is not so in any religious way. But it’s a mistake which would have others scream in outrage and possibly sue Ping Pong’s pants off (my sister did neither, even though I’d have enjoyed the spectacle of the first scenario, I think). Anyway, to drink I had a Goji berry drink, which was filled to the brim with vitamins, fruit and mint. I think. It also looked pretty.

I’m still not sure what Goji berries are, and whether what swam on top actually was them or maybe just something that fell off a tray. It did however taste most exotic and delicious.

For food we had a selection of their dim sum. I am no big expert on dim sum, but I liked what I had. There was one with big leafs wrapped around it, which I tried to eat just like that, thinking they couldn’t possibly expect me to unwrap this with sticks.

Turns out they did. I kept trying to remove the stringy bits of leaf for the better part of an hour. Next time I’ll know.  The place is not exactly inexpensive, but it won’t ruin you either if you go there from time to time. Which I think you should, especially if you’re not a vegetarian.

I also had a large bowl of fruit at Le Pain Quotidien at the Southbank Centre. I opted against their ham&eggs, because I remembered from my last visit that their ham was a bit too salty. And I think I had had my fair share of ham on that trip already.

On my way out of London I dined at Giraffe, right inside Heathrow’s Terminal 1. I don’t usually like to have sit-down dinners at airports, but I was sort of coerced into it by fellow travellers. What a happy coincidence that was, because the Grilled Minute Rump Steak Sandwich I had was really quite excellent. I still don’t like sit-down dinners at airports, but I definitely like the Giraffe. Maybe they do take-aways too.

Finally, I also included in above gallery an image of a scotch egg. Because I just love this perverse but utterly succulent combination of meat, bread-crumbs and egg. No visit to the the Isle is complete without having at least one. If you ever find a place in Vienna that sells them, do tell me.

This is goulash, a dish devised by hungry shepherds somewhere on the lush pastures of the Magyar countryside. It’s delicious beef and onions, stewed for multiple hours, seasoned with a plethora of spices so numerous, my fingers tire from thinking about that number alone. Hence, you’ll have to find out yourself. Like here.

The version displayed above was prepared by my lovely girlfriend and more succulent than any goulash I ever tried my sloppy hands on.

I might have to work on my self-marketing skills.

So today my mother was in town. What sounds like the beginning of a particularly creepy combination of film noir and Psycho-related fare, is actually just an ordinary introduction to explain why I went to Café Raimund in the outer fringes of Vienna’s posh 1st district. It’s right opposite the Volkstheater, which the cultur vultures among you might know.

Even though I’ve already spent a considerable part of my precious life in Vienna, it was the first time I went there today. After tonight, I don’t know why, because Café Raimund is a most charming part of Viennese culture. With a wide and spacious non-smoker’s section and a small but cozy smoker’s section it’s the ideal melting pot for all sorts of individuals.

“Say, Richard, what about their menu? Does it comprise of typical Austrian fare but also Italian cuisine, complete with sort of shoddy English translations?”, you might ask. “Why yes, it does!”, I’d answer, mildly surprised by your sense of clairvoyance.

True to myself I had a pork schnitzel, with molten cheese on top, in gravy. With potatoes. It was most delicious. Despite the fact that we were sitting in said cozy smoker’s section, and people all around us were enjoying their tobacco products. Because you know what? I don’t care. I like my food any which way, and some smoke has never turned me off of good food. And if it turns you off, don’t sit in the smoker’s section. Just saying.

Anyway, go there, populate that place, because in addition to being Viennese to the core, the waiters and waitresses are most courteous and deserve big tips and a good life.

I’ve written about how to make the best pork roast ever on here before. I’d be mental to try to rival my own writing, so I won’t put up yet another recipe. I’ll just leave you with an image of the pork roast I had last Saturday. It’s without the crunchy stuff on top, but it comes complete with carrots and potatoes. What else would you need?

I must admit, my contributions to above masterpiece were minimal. And by minimal I mean I looked at the raw meat and deemed it roast-worthy. The rest was done by my parents, who for some inexplicable reason have made it their life-habit to feed my hungry gullet. If you find above roast looks delicious, tell me in the comments and I’ll forward it on to them. The more elaborate your praise is, the happier they will be. So don’t be stingy with those words, ok?

Usually I’m too much of a self-centered bastard to write about anything else than myself and what I ate, but sometimes I soften up and tell you about things like Gojee. The website with the funny name does similar things I do here: post pictures and recipes, but in a strikingly beautiful manner. Which, by the way, does two things for me: make me jealous and hungry. An interesting combination, let me tell you that.

Anyway, go check it out. For additional pleasure I’ve added an image of traditional Austrian dumpling-like things which I’ll be writing about in the near future.

44 days, 11 countries and loads of food.
Read more about the project here.

I know, I know, it’s quite a headline, but what can I say? It’s actually about both of these things. First, there’s Zum Recnizek, a traditional Viennese restaurant deep inside the 9th district. Second, there’s their menu, which is small, but contains just the right things. You get your Schnitzel, your Zwiebelrostbraten and of course blood sausage (which is what you’re seeing above).

They are unlike any variations of blood sausage I’ve had before. The fact that they are battered allows the filling to be much juicier than these kinds of disks usually are. Cutting into one of these and seeing the bright red filling is something I’ll probably be dreaming of for the next couple of weeks. In a good way, that is.

The atmosphere I’d call Viennese-spartan: plated glass, light wooden ceilings and a waiter who at first glance seems to exude arrogance (which, usually, is in fact arrogance, but in that case it was probably just the knowledge that the place rocks).

They’re not exactly pricey, but for special dishes like the original Wiener Schnitzel off of a piece of calf, you’ll easily part with 18 of your hard-earned Euros. Just saying.

The waiter turned out to be very attentive and due to the rather early hour, the chef even found the time to leave his kitchen to enquire whether we enjoyed what he had prepared (we did).

If you’re in the business of showing strangers around the city, do them a favour and show them Zum Reznicek. They’ll like it. Oh, and if you’re afraid of cigarette smoke: they do have a large non-smoking area.