"See and be seen" restaurant falls short of outstanding
It was a dark and stormy night. Cosmo had been pushing me to try this new restaurant, a fancy looking place just off Plac Teatralny. After a long week at the salt mine my cozy apartment beckoned, but the call of public duty was stronger, and so Cosmo and I ended up with Friday night reservations at Klub Magellan. According to the date etched on the window, Klub Magellan opened late last millennium; it must have been December because we didn't notice them in action until January. The restaurant's large windows face out toward the National Theater. Or do they face in, allowing the diners to be seen?
Well into the evening, most patrons were wearing a suit and tie and appeared to be on the clock, impressing clients or just trying to act important. Cosmo had been with the Swami so he arrived late and well sauced. The staff was amused by his attempts to speak Polish with a Russian accent; they handed us English language menus and led us to a booth in the non-smoking section. At Klub Magellan, we non-smokers are relegated to the cheap seats at the front of the restaurant. The good news is that though there were cigars and pipes present during our visit, the high ceilings carried the smoke away to other parts of the restaurant and we enjoyed relatively fresh air.
Our booth was surrounded by firm, hunter-green cushions, and gave us a view of the fabulously large fish tank, which led Cosmo to ponder just how many liters of water it took to fill that aquarium. We weren't well perched enough, however, to enjoy the fabulous paintings and other decorations that cover this well-appointed place and make it reminiscent of the gentlemen's club in which Phileas Fogg must have planned his 80-day journey around the world. The room is filled with nautical references to Magellan's voyage, Tiffany lamps, stained mahogany tables and palmettos. Musical selections ranged from a sultry Peggy Lee and silky Billie Holiday to exuberant Louis Prima and Dave Brubek. It was a perfect mix for dining and played at the perfect volume, neither so soft as to be inaudible nor loud enough to interfere with conversation.
The menu was conveniently printed on two pages of thick paper along with the restaurant's compass logo and a Portuguese galleon. It ran the usual gamut of choices from cold starters (zl. 18 zl. 28) to hot starters (zl. 22 zl. 46), soups (zl. 16 zl. 18), salads (zl. 22 zl. 29), pastas (zl. 24 zl. 32), fish (zl. 36 zl. 46), meats (zl. 43 zl. 78) and desserts (zl. 15 zl. 22). The menu was well thought out; each category contained enough choices to appeal to a variety of tastes without rambling on for several pages. It was easy to decide.
Cosmo was in an omnivorous mood so he started with the soft taco appetizer (zl. 27). He was downing them rapidly when he came to a screeching halt. "Wait a minute," he proclaimed, "there's no meat." "I thought they were chicken soft-tacos," I said. "I beg to differ," he replied.
A quick check of the menu revealed Cosmo's perceptions to be right on the money. There was no meat in those tacos, only tortillas, frijotes, salsa and a dollop of guacamole.
I went the salad route for the starter with a generous portion of leaf lettuce in a vinaigrette dressing topped with sunflower seeds and placed on three triangles of focaccia (zl 18). The lettuce was very fresh and crunchy. The focaccia was a delightful surprise. Each triangle had a different topping of tomato paste, mushroom sauce and bacon bits. It was a lovely salad.
Cosmo continued with a bowl of wild mushroom soup (zl. 18), the only one of his dishes that didn't delight him. It was not as thick and dark as he expected it to be. His three-word response: "I've had better." He went on to have filet steak that sent him into fits of ecstasy. It came simply arranged I won't even say presented. There were strips of grilled red bell-pepper, a baked potato in butter, and three medallions of beef, cooked medium when not specified. Cosmo was so taken he stopped talking and devoted his mouth entirely to eating.
I filled the void in the conversation, as I was not as taken by my pasta. The Tagliatelli al Pesto (zl. 27) was well presented with strips of shaved parmesan, a green leaf (not basil) and lots of roasted pine nuts. But it was dry and lacked the tangy taste that carries this simple sauce. The chefs at Magellan would do well to steal the recipe from Cafe Roma, which has the best pesto in town.
Cosmo washed his meal down with soda (zl. 6) and I had a Cuba Libre (zl. 19). We ordered woda gazowana on the side and they brought us San Pellegrino (zl. 8).
Though we didn't order wine, the list is as simple as the menu. Reds by the bottle range in price from zl. 60 for a Bardolino Classico 1998 to zl. 305 for a Brunello di Montalcino 1994. The whites top out at zl. 226 for a Chateau de Nozet, Pouilly Fume 1998 and go down to zl. 72 for a Bolla Soave Classico 1998, a Bolla Pinot Grigio 1998, and a Simonsig Chenin Blanc 1997. Two rosts checked in at zl. 75 and zl. 60. The less expensive wines are also available by the carafe for a slightly smaller price. The house wine, Casa Solar, is available in red and white for zl. 60 a bottle, zl. 40 a carafe, and zl. 20 a half carafe.
Dinner and drinks, without wine and dessert, came to zl. 186 ($45). This places Klub Magellan in the upscale category. The price and decor create high expectations; five years ago, this restaurant would have easily been the best in town. The professional service and attention to detail in the dining room make for a very pleasant, blunder-free experience. But the kitchen fell short of outstanding.
Its large windows and open design make Klub Magellan a place for people who want to be noticed. It has clearly been set up to look high society and conjures up images of ascot-wearing, pipe-smoking men sitting at the bar discussing their latest conquests. The effect is slightly hampered by the presence of too many suits, who make it seem as if you've never left the office. Overall, a good place to take that high-profile client you want to be seen with, but not the high-powered associate with whom you are about to strike a secret deal.
