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And the band played on

By : William Nichols

    Kompania Piwna-Podwale, ul. Podwale 25, Tel. 635-6314. Open daily 11:00-1:00. Credit cards accepted.

   Restaurant Kompania Piwna can best be described as Disney World meets the Old World. The place is loud, bright and anything but authentic. But then the theme-park atmosphere could be the restaurant’s biggest charm – provided you know what you’re in for. Unfortunately for us, we had no idea.

   Any illusions we had for a quiet supper vanished the moment Kasia and I stepped into the newly opened restaurant. As the host raised his voice to greet us, the piercing cacophony of a three-piece street band rang through the place like a ricocheted bullet. The shot found its mark when we were shown our seats at a table surrounded by the band and a roomful of clapping patrons. With their squirrel-tailed mustaches, sailor caps and instruments (guitar, accordion and maracas), the band members took on an animated persona that was part Mickey Mouse and a whole lot of Goofy.

   Within 10 minutes, Kasia was pleading for the band to shut up. It took Bruce and Ewa even less time to voice their dissatisfaction. Immediately on joining us, Bruce asked me to summon my restaurant critiquing powers to “make them stop, please?” But I was powerless to interfere, and the band played on, and on, and then some more.

   Resigning to defeat, we turned our attention to the restaurant’s Polish/English menu. In keeping to its Austro-Hungarian theme, Kompania Piwna offers a variety of dishes whose origins can be traced back to the monarchy that, apart from the obvious territories of Austria and Hungary, also included the Czech Republic, Slovenia, Croatia, and parts of Poland, Romania and Italy. And although the restaurant offers everything from the cheese and vegetables of the South, to the meat and cabbage of the North, it’s the latter that appears most often on the menu. For vegetarians, the only real choice is a salad.

   Thankfully, everyone in our party was of the omnivore persuasion and we started off with an order of mussels and beer. A cautionary note: It’s important that beer drinkers at Kompania Piwna enjoy the Czech brew Pilsner Urquell – and lots of it – it’s the only beer they serve at the restaurant and there’s no such thing as a małe piwo. That being said, our half-liter beers quickly arrived in true Czech fashion. Served in thick glass mugs with a hearty head of froth, the beer was some of the best I’ve had in Warsaw, and well complemented the mussels’ buttery garlic sauce. As for the shellfish itself, which arrived at the table still steaming in the pan, the meat was tender and mild – even if it wasn’t caught that day.

   With the arrival of our soups I picked up on a trend. If Kompania Piwna is true to its Austro-Hungarian theme, which is unlikely, then the creation of the monarchy came at the cost of a great many plates and bowls. None of our meals was served on proper dinnerware, but in the very utensil in which it was cooked. I could have gone along with this technique had I detected a reason for serving the food in such a manner – for example, if the pot had the baked-on flavoring of a thousand similar meals so that the steel itself had become part of the recipe. But my Teflon-coated pot was spic-and-span and added nothing to my bland fish soup. Instead, the presentation made me uncomfortable, as though my mother might pop out from around the corner and reproach me for eating straight out of the pot. The soup kettle also did little to improve Kasia’s żurek. She complained that the watered-down broth was far from sour, and the kiełbasa old. Things would not get much better.

   The arrival of our entrées – also in heavy pans – meant that our table had now begun to look like a busy stovetop. Of our meals, Bruce’s carp drew the most praise – which isn’t saying much. “It’s good,” said Ewa, who cast aside her order of pickled herring in favor of the carp. “It’s light and delicate, and it doesn’t taste like mud.”

   Kasia could not provide the same accolades for her order of filet mignon. Although the two cuts of tenderloin served with side orders of potatoes and beets made for a pretty picture, its taste did not measure up. She found the beef tough and overcooked.

   My order of pork ribs glazed with honey and nuts had potential, but this, too, failed to follow through. In the restaurant’s defense, ribs are difficult to prepare, and mine were a bit too dry for my liking. The best part of my meal, however, was the side of creamy sauerkraut cooked with flour and cumin that was perhaps the tastiest cabbage I’ve ever had.

   With our main course cleared from the table, and the kitchen restocked with cookware, we ordered a dessert of fried bananas. The battered and fried fruit came sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar that mixed well with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. In addition, the dessert was served with complimentary shots of cherry liquor, which though good, failed to change our opinion of the place. Our meal, with six beers, came to zł. 190 ($45).

   Kompania Piwna’s location on ulica Podwale in Old Town ought to guarantee the restaurant some success with tourists. And it could be an interesting place to take unsuspecting out-of-towners. Of particular note is the restaurant’s courtyard, which has been renovated with a Germanic fa˜ade that, like the castle at Disney World, is fake but fun. The beer garden inside the courtyard could make for a great place to swill summer beers provided you fancy Pilsner Urquell.

   On the menu:

   Mussels in garlic and butter zl. 25

   Zurek zl. 8.50

   Carp with noodles zl.21

   Filet mignon with mozzarella zl. 32

   Pork ribs with honey and nuts zl. 29

   Fried bananas with ice cream zl. 10

   Pilsner Urquell zl. 7

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