Inside the corridors of power lurks a hidden culinary gem
We have been doing this for several years, and every time we pass Parliament on ulica Wiejska I see a sign for Restauracja Hawelka. I'd heard about a Hawelka in Krakow, and I've been to the Hawelka in Vienna, but for all the hundreds of times I've swapped restaurant tips with friends, no one has ever mentioned Warsaw's Hawelka. Not even Warsaw restaurant-maven Vinny Tokaj had been there. I always assumed the restaurant must be open only to parliamentarians.
Then a month ago I saw a press item saying Hawelka chefs would be preparing new menus for LOT Polish Airlines' business class. Journalistic duty called. What would WBJ's readers be eating on their next flight? Given the innumerable jokes about airline food, this is a risky marketing move by the restaurant's management: Will LOT win the reputation of "restaurant-quality food on an airplane," or will Hawelka get stuck with the less-appetizing slogan, "airline food in a restaurant?"
A phone call cleared up my first misconception: although the restaurant is inside Parliament, it's open to everyone. Just enter through the gate near the corner of Wiejska and Gornoslaska, and you'll find Hawelka's elegant entrance on the left. I made a reservation for a Thursday night and invited the Iron Lady, whose keen insight on the political scene could, I imagined, prove useful during dinner.
On entering, I kept expecting some palooka with a badge and gun to stop us and ask where we were going. Quite the contrary: we were met by perhaps the most gracious, hospitable coat check attendant in Poland, an elderly gentleman whose smile and warm welcome instantly put me at ease. He pointed the way up a grand staircase. At the top we found three rooms. A circular room with a large, octagonal bar and a few tables around the circumference had a casual atmosphere (well, as casual as you can get in any Parliament building - they weren't blasting Segar and passing out MGD long necks). A locked, glass door led into the parliamentarians' private cafeteria. A waiter in green vest and black bow tie met us and showed us to our table in the main dining hall: a long room with high ceilings painted a pale lime sherbert color.
The interior is formal, but not quite elegant. The decor is a bit confused, with some things harkening back to staropolski traditions (antique swords, a bear skin, old drinking steins), and others going for a fin-de-siecle touch, with replicas of Klimt and Tetmeyer paintings and the menu's attractive, art nouveau-inspired cover. The music was another story: "I don't have anything against Basia," I.L. said, "but it just doesn't seem appropriate here."
We nibbled on the complimentary dish of smalec while going over the menu. All the traditional Polish dishes are there: pork, game and duck mains in the zl. 25-zl. 35 range. I.L. was excited to find zupa Rakowa (crayfish soup) on the menu for zl. 15. "It's very rare and hard to catch this, you have to go out at night and find them," she said, admitting that she's done it herself a few times. When she asked the waiter, "Do you have the zupa Rakowa today?" he responded with a smirk, a shrug and a bored "Yeah, of course." Our waiter kept up his too-cool attitude throughout the meal, making me think he would fit in better busing tables at Cafe Brama.
I.L. went with the crayfish and the Capon fricase (zl. 33) for her main, and I took I.L.'s recommendation of the mushroom starter (zl. 28), which she said had the rarest and most delicious mushrooms in it, as well as a "Cracovian-style beef roll in bison vodka sauce" for my main. There is a long wine list including bottles from all over, most in the zl. 60-zl. 100 range. I went with a glass of the house red (zl. 5) since I was imbibing alone.
My mushrooms came piled into and around a tall pastry shell. The plate was drenched in a brown, buttery cream and wine sauce. The mushrooms are called "smardze po szlachecku" (noble mushrooms), and were worth I.L.'s high praise. It was one of the best starters I've had anywhere in Warsaw. I.L. was equally pleased with her zupa, which had plenty of small crayfish in the red, tomato-based mixture.
Our mains were presented with a flourish - the waiter whipping off the plates' silver covers in unison. I had two beef rolls (zrazy) wrapped around mushrooms, onions and bacon, covered in a thick brown sauce, with some deliciously sweet honey beets and steamed cauliflower, broccoli and baby carrots on the side. I also had a mound of filling "kasza gryczana," the staple Polish grain dish.
I.L.'s capon (which Webster informs me is a castrated rooster fattened up for eating) was "soft and juicy," and served on top of a croissant-like pastry, under a delicate, creamy sauce. She also had plenty of fresh veggies: string beans, carrots and cauliflower.
Hawelka gets top marks for the food, which was some of the best traditional Polish cuisine that I've eaten anywhere. The atmosphere, as I.L. put it, was "kind of neutral," which in a restaurant inside Parliament could be expected. The main attraction here is getting to cross forks with the great and the good (please, no snickering) of Polish politics. I was hoping at most to catch a glimpse of some moderately well-known leader, but we got much better:
As we were finishing up our meal, a high-level delegation of 20 Saudi VIPs was led in, looking like they'd just stepped out of the desert in their long robes (thobe) and colorful headresses (ghutrah). Heads turned in the rest of the restaurant. This is why we were here. We ordered coffees and bent our ears. What was that Freedom Union (UW) politician at the head of the table saying? What bits of foreign affairs or trade policy would we overhear? "Eating Out" neither confirms nor denies any rumors you may have heard, but encourages you to go directly to the source and try Hawelka for yourself. Our bill for two came to zl. 138 ($35).
Then a month ago I saw a press item saying Hawelka chefs would be preparing new menus for LOT Polish Airlines' business class. Journalistic duty called. What would WBJ's readers be eating on their next flight? Given the innumerable jokes about airline food, this is a risky marketing move by the restaurant's management: Will LOT win the reputation of "restaurant-quality food on an airplane," or will Hawelka get stuck with the less-appetizing slogan, "airline food in a restaurant?"
A phone call cleared up my first misconception: although the restaurant is inside Parliament, it's open to everyone. Just enter through the gate near the corner of Wiejska and Gornoslaska, and you'll find Hawelka's elegant entrance on the left. I made a reservation for a Thursday night and invited the Iron Lady, whose keen insight on the political scene could, I imagined, prove useful during dinner.
On entering, I kept expecting some palooka with a badge and gun to stop us and ask where we were going. Quite the contrary: we were met by perhaps the most gracious, hospitable coat check attendant in Poland, an elderly gentleman whose smile and warm welcome instantly put me at ease. He pointed the way up a grand staircase. At the top we found three rooms. A circular room with a large, octagonal bar and a few tables around the circumference had a casual atmosphere (well, as casual as you can get in any Parliament building - they weren't blasting Segar and passing out MGD long necks). A locked, glass door led into the parliamentarians' private cafeteria. A waiter in green vest and black bow tie met us and showed us to our table in the main dining hall: a long room with high ceilings painted a pale lime sherbert color.
The interior is formal, but not quite elegant. The decor is a bit confused, with some things harkening back to staropolski traditions (antique swords, a bear skin, old drinking steins), and others going for a fin-de-siecle touch, with replicas of Klimt and Tetmeyer paintings and the menu's attractive, art nouveau-inspired cover. The music was another story: "I don't have anything against Basia," I.L. said, "but it just doesn't seem appropriate here."
We nibbled on the complimentary dish of smalec while going over the menu. All the traditional Polish dishes are there: pork, game and duck mains in the zl. 25-zl. 35 range. I.L. was excited to find zupa Rakowa (crayfish soup) on the menu for zl. 15. "It's very rare and hard to catch this, you have to go out at night and find them," she said, admitting that she's done it herself a few times. When she asked the waiter, "Do you have the zupa Rakowa today?" he responded with a smirk, a shrug and a bored "Yeah, of course." Our waiter kept up his too-cool attitude throughout the meal, making me think he would fit in better busing tables at Cafe Brama.
I.L. went with the crayfish and the Capon fricase (zl. 33) for her main, and I took I.L.'s recommendation of the mushroom starter (zl. 28), which she said had the rarest and most delicious mushrooms in it, as well as a "Cracovian-style beef roll in bison vodka sauce" for my main. There is a long wine list including bottles from all over, most in the zl. 60-zl. 100 range. I went with a glass of the house red (zl. 5) since I was imbibing alone.
My mushrooms came piled into and around a tall pastry shell. The plate was drenched in a brown, buttery cream and wine sauce. The mushrooms are called "smardze po szlachecku" (noble mushrooms), and were worth I.L.'s high praise. It was one of the best starters I've had anywhere in Warsaw. I.L. was equally pleased with her zupa, which had plenty of small crayfish in the red, tomato-based mixture.
Our mains were presented with a flourish - the waiter whipping off the plates' silver covers in unison. I had two beef rolls (zrazy) wrapped around mushrooms, onions and bacon, covered in a thick brown sauce, with some deliciously sweet honey beets and steamed cauliflower, broccoli and baby carrots on the side. I also had a mound of filling "kasza gryczana," the staple Polish grain dish.
I.L.'s capon (which Webster informs me is a castrated rooster fattened up for eating) was "soft and juicy," and served on top of a croissant-like pastry, under a delicate, creamy sauce. She also had plenty of fresh veggies: string beans, carrots and cauliflower.
Hawelka gets top marks for the food, which was some of the best traditional Polish cuisine that I've eaten anywhere. The atmosphere, as I.L. put it, was "kind of neutral," which in a restaurant inside Parliament could be expected. The main attraction here is getting to cross forks with the great and the good (please, no snickering) of Polish politics. I was hoping at most to catch a glimpse of some moderately well-known leader, but we got much better:
As we were finishing up our meal, a high-level delegation of 20 Saudi VIPs was led in, looking like they'd just stepped out of the desert in their long robes (thobe) and colorful headresses (ghutrah). Heads turned in the rest of the restaurant. This is why we were here. We ordered coffees and bent our ears. What was that Freedom Union (UW) politician at the head of the table saying? What bits of foreign affairs or trade policy would we overhear? "Eating Out" neither confirms nor denies any rumors you may have heard, but encourages you to go directly to the source and try Hawelka for yourself. Our bill for two came to zl. 138 ($35).
