Ample feast pleases taste buds, but no sight for eyes
"I'm going to this Polish restaurant tonight," I told my sister, "It's called ..." I paused to translate its name, " 'Polish Restaurant.' " No points for creativity in the name department, I guess.
But on this particular night, I was not in the market for wild, imaginative culinary experimentation. It was my last meal in Poland, and all I wanted was the most traditional, fat-filled, just-like-babcia-used-to-make dinner that I could find. So with that as my goal, I decided it was finally time for me to visit Restauracja Polska. This staple of Warsaw's dining scene is usually the first destination of tourists or visiting businessmen looking for traditional Polish chow.
I reserved a table for two on a Friday night at 7 p.m. Roxy, my date, had been here once before and therefore knew the way. It's hidden behind a gate on ulica Nowy Swiat, in a cellar of an art gallery. We left our coats with the coat woman and descended into R.P.'s dining room. A warm, red glow from dozens of candles infused the room with a welcoming intimacy. Unfortunately, that welcome was quickly spoiled when the waiter put us at the absolutely worst table in the restaurant. We were wedged into a corner, behind a wide, ceiling-support column and an antique sideboard. I literally had to move the table to get to my chair. They might as well have put us in the broom closet for all the view we had of the room. I suspect we received this treatment because our appearance didn't jive with the profile of the place's customer, which as far as I could tell were boring old farts in poorly fitted suits.
We were out of sight, then, but luckily not out of our waiter's mind, as he was attentive and diligent in his duties throughout the evening. Plus he looked like John-boy from the "Waltons," dimpled cheeks and all. That might explain why Roxy was smiling so sweetly at him.
"Are we going to have vodka?" Roxy opined with a smile.
What a question. "We're going to have vodka, and then vodka, and then some more vodka!" I replied. But for a place that trades on its Polish roots, R.P. has a pitiful selection of the hard stuff. Neither of my favorites, the absynthe-like Piolunowka nor the sweet, ginseng-flavored Dziegielowka, were on the drink list, just the old standards like Zubrowka, Chopin and Wyborowa. We started with two Wyborowas, served in frosted glasses.
Properly fired with vodka, we turned to the menu. Newcomers to Polish cuisine be forewarned: it's not for cholesterol watchers. Item No. 1 on the list: wild-game pate with pork knuckle in gelatin and goose fat for only zl. 24! That's the house specialty, so I was tempted to try it, but I chickened out at the last minute.
Next I checked out the daily specials, on a page titled "Kasia and Kasia recommend." These are all the priciest things on the menu, ranging from zl. 46-zl. 78. It's mostly fresh-game dishes, including boar (zl. 69), pheasant (zl. 65), two venison dishes (zl. 65 and zl. 74) and duck in cognac sauce (zl. 78). All were tempting, but the items on the main menu all sounded just as good and for half the price.
While Roxy tippled her vodka and tried to decide what, or who, to order, I glanced through the wine list. When Vinny Tokaj was here two years ago, he was appalled to see a bottle of Chateau Petrus for several thousand zloty in the No. 1 spot on the list. They've apparently taken heed, and now that same bottle is found at the bottom of the list! I ordered a bottle of St. Emilion (zl. 160) since it was one of the most affordable and I've liked this particular Bordeaux appellation ever since Mme. Chloe and I served it at our wedding. But the bottle I received, Chapelle de la Trinite 1997, was a very weak example of the breed, with absolutely no tannic backbone. Was '97 a bad year in the Medoc?
We both decided on soups to start. Roxy took the traditional zur slaski (zl. 15). This is a refined, delicate version of the sturdy peasant zurek that both of us were more familiar with. It contained the mushrooms called borowiki, which Roxy said were "the best mushrooms in the Polish forest." Her zurek also had three slices of kielbasa and some potatoes to fill it out. For my soup I ordered the traditional barszcz, or red beet soup, with bobbing kolduny (zl. 14), mini-pastry pillows filled with meat. I've had many a bowl of barszcz, but R.P.'s is special, with just the right balance of beet and sweet.
Next Roxy had the zrazy Radziwillowskie (zl. 32.50). "Zrazy" are described as tender beef rolls wrapped around pickle, bread and bacon. R.P. presents them with style, three stuffed zrazy rolls served in a hollowed-out loaf of dark bread filled with thick gravy. "They play well with the bread," Roxy said, but it was too much food, so she passed me a zrazy. A little tough on the beef side, but the sauce was deep, dark and savory, and would make mashed potatoes sing.
I had ordered the marinated tenderloin (zl. 42), cooked rare, and was served two of them, thick, perfectly lean cuts of cow, still pink on the inside. They were deliciously marinated and flavored with a thin crust of herbs, and served with a bowl of cranberry sauce to dip in. Finishing my dish and the zrazy was a feat in itself.
Full but not giving up on the last-meal motif, we ordered two espressos (zl. 7) and two more Wyborowas (zl. 9 each) to pave the way for dessert. Roxy picked the dessert of the day, a creamy, coffee-flavored cake stuffed with figs (zl. 18), which was simply out of this world. I had the chocolate and walnut cake (zl. 18), very moist and chocolatey, but this dessert is better at Tsarina, where it's served soaked in rum.
Our feast came to zl. 351 ($83.57), not including tip. The food and service were fine, but R.P.'s atmosphere lacks some, well, flair. At first impression, all's well and comfy, but the surroundings turn ordinary rather quickly. And that doesn't include our seating assignment that night. So if you're looking for a Polish restaurant with more pizazz, try upbeat Studio Buffo at one end or the more elegant Dom Polski at the other.
