Follow the bear

By : William Nichols

    Varna

    ul. Mazowiecka 12

    Tel. 827-26-01

    Hours: 11 a.m.- last customer;

    Credit cards accepted

   Bulgarian restaurants in the United States take a distant back seat to eateries specializing in the fare of neighboring Turkey and Greece. In fact, I can’t say I’ve eaten Bulgarian food prior to my trip to Restaurant Varna on ulica Mazowiecka. And there’s little doubt that my ignorance of the country’s cuisine would continue to this day had the restaurant’s owner not accosted my girlfriend.

   It was Kasia who discovered the restaurant while taking a different route home from work. As she stood reading the menu in the window, the bear of a proprietor appeared at the doorway to usher her in. Kasia declined, but said she might return in the future. To which he called out after her in his thick Bulgarian accent, “Yes, yes. Tonight!”

   The man seemed genuinely surprised, if not a bit self-congratulatory, when Kasia returned a half-hour later with me in tow.

   It was one of those last warm weekends of late summer when the city’s population empties out and the sidewalks are eerily devoid of life. Varna was no exception. Save for two other diners and the wait staff, we were the only people there. But so as not to spoil the owner’s joy at seeing us, we decided to stay and took a window seat near the entrance.

   Varna’s interior can best be described as quirky. A sweeping staircase spills out into the front dining room, which led me to assume that the restaurant offered additional tables on the mezzanine. I was wrong.

   The stairs provide access to a smattering of businesses on the second-floor balcony. It’s an odd effect that during the business day I imagine might give the restaurant the busy feel of a Sofia bus terminal, as shopkeepers and customers pass through the dining room to conduct whatever business may await them above. During our visit, however, only one non-diner passed through the restaurant – a slight and bespectacled man who quietly disappeared behind a door labeled “Technical Library.”

   But that gentle creature was of little bother, and Kasia and I quickly focused our attention to the matter at hand – searching through the restaurant’s voluminous menu. Thankfully this task was made easier by the menu’s English translations.

   I at last settled on the lentil soup and the Stek Balczik, a pork cutlet topped with a creamy tomato sauce. Kasia chose a lighter fare and ordered the chicken soup and asked to combine the rice and vegetable side dishes into a main course. The waitress happily obliged and left us to enjoy the muted Bulgarian music playing in the background.

   The arrival of the soup minutes later interrupted our debate as to the whereabouts of the people who originally owned the colorful peasant clothing that hangs haphazardly from the restaurant’s walls. It was a welcomed reprieve.

   Swimming atop my lentil soup was a layer of finely minced parsley that mixed well with the soup’s zest. It was, perhaps, a broth best reserved for a cold winter’s day, but I finished it in no time and wanted more. Kasia’s chicken soup was thick and creamy, but a bit bland. Nevertheless, her bowl sat empty when the waitress returned with our main course.

   The owner of Varna should do away with the tacky food industry placard that sits outside his restaurant. Its pictures of the entrees do him no justice. While my meal was pleasing to the eye, Kasia’s dinner was a work of art. Beside two mounds of steaming rice and veggies lay bouquets of parsley and delicately carved tomato roses.

   Unfortunately for Kasia, her meal did not taste as good as it looked. Although she liked the garlic and herb seasoning, the vegetables were a bit overcooked and their uniform shape suggested they had arrived fresh from the freezer.

   My pork steak, on the other hand, was tender, if not a bit fatty. The accompanying tomato sauce, which contained diced ham and mushrooms, complemented the French fries just as well as the steak. In addition, my meal was served with a tomato and cucumber sliced whole that I dressed with oil and vinegar. We split a small bottle of Bulgarian Merlot, which washed everything down nicely.

   By the end of the meal I was full, but left wondering about dessert. My thoughts were answered when the proprietor, who throughout our meal had sat curiously mixing pipe tobacco at the next table, looked up at our empty table and incredulously asked, “No baklava?” Judging from his girth and conviviality, I took this to be a favorable omen and ordered a slice. Unlike Turkish baklava, the owner told us that his is a less-sweet pastry he created to suit Polish tastes. But if it was less sweet, I didn’t notice any loss of richness. The size of my wedge-shaped portion was large enough to make even the most doting grandmother blush. Somehow, though, I managed to fit it all in.

   As we left the restaurant, the owner sent me away with a hearty handshake and kissed Kasia’s hand. He asked that we return soon, as business has not been so good since a casino bought him out of his old location on ulica Marszałkowska.

   Perhaps he should have considered moving his restaurant farther afield. I know several cities in the United States that could benefit from Varna’s tasty fare and welcome hospitality. Our meal came to an even zł. 100 ($24).

   On the menu:

    Lentil soup zl.8

    Chicken soup zl.10

    Stek Balczik zl.29

    Vegetables zl.5

    Baklava zl. 15

    0.375 liter bottle of Bulgarian Merlot zl. 18