Spanish room with view topped with fine food, great service
Bistro de Paris' cozy location on ulica Freta is "closed temporarily for conservation work," according to a sign in the window, but at the same time they've just opened a second restaurant on plac Pilsudskiego, Bistro de Paris Opera (more on that next week).
This week, however, is Valencia. The Spanish restaurant, formerly of ulica Smocza, has new digs and perhaps the best eatery real estate in town. The Valencia tip came from my Capitalist Comrade. How better to repay the favor than to invite my favorite carrot-topped commissar to dinner?
Neither C.C. nor I had ever been to the original Valencia. The WBJ's first reviewer, Sam Worthington, wrote about it three years ago, and said it was in the basement of an uninviting, grey Communist office block. Apparently the restaurateurs faced a rent hike and took a step up, a big step up.
Valencia's second coming is 38 floors up at the top of the Intraco building, after the Palace of Culture and Science perhaps the oldest high-rise downtown and now getting a facelift. However, to get to the top you've got to walk - one flight of steps. Intraco's speed elevator only goes to the 37th floor, from where we followed our noses down the corridor, around a corner and up a flight of stairs. Hasn't anyone heard of signage? Upstairs, across from the massage parlor, for those hard-working bankers, is the door leading to Valencia on the right.
Tall windows run all the way down the long room's lefthand, and south-facing, side, presenting diners with a panorama of downtown Warsaw landmarks - from the Vistula, Old Town and new Supreme Court building to the east, to the Palace of Culture and other new towers front and city center, then west where street lights trail off to the horizon behind Daewoo's Warsaw Trade Tower.
Nine times out of 10 in chic places like this, the waitress turns out to be a young airhead who apparently won her job in a hotlegs contest. Not so at Valencia. We were seated next to the windows by a mature, wonderfully pleasant woman. When I'd made the reservation, I hadn't thought to choose a window table. The management, however, did and it was the right choice. The long, rectangular dining room is set up with two rows of tables: the front row ring side to the cityscape. The second row a little farther back still has a great view, but it's definitely not so breathtaking, if you like to gaze down from high places.
Once settled, I ordered an aperitif, a Porto (zl. 18 by the glass). At first C.C. said she would pass on a pre-meal tipple, but the cheerful waitress changed C.C.'s sober air as she spun a tale half in gestures about a delicious Cointreau concoction. The barkeep could whip it up for her, she only need command. C.C. was stung with desire. The waitress returned with drinks and an ample basket of bread, and three bowls: one with big green olives, another filled with a sweet, chunky tomato spread and the third with garlic butter, gratis.
Voila! Ready to eat. A glance at the menu brought me back to reality. It's a bit long, and on the expensive side. Hot and cold starters run zl. 25-40, soups zl. 15-20. A selection of paellas is in the zl. 30-56 range. But there is a big selection of tapas and bocadillos sandwiches, for under zl. 20.
Of course, you can pick and choose around the expensive items. But where's the fun in that? I decided on a starter plate of Spanish ham and goat cheese (zl. 48) and a main of filet mignon in Roquefort sauce (zl. 40). C.C. went with a dish of fried shrimp in garlic sauce to start (zl. 39) and a main called "fresh lotte á la marinera" - monkfish (zl. 82).
The all-Spanish wine list looked good, but nothing under zl. 100 per bottle. C.C. needed a white to go with her meal, and a half bottle of '97 Chablis for zl. 68 was tempting. But I was looking for a red. A Rioja Gran Reserva '64 from Faustino would have been nice, but at zl. 330, out of my league. In the end we each took a glass of house wine (zl. 12), which was very good, so we had two more.
My entree was five slices of imported Spanish serrano ham and four wedges of Spanish manchego sheep's cheese. Serrano ham is an intensely flavored, raw cured meat, called the "Spanish Parma" by many. The slightly sharp but soft manchego cheese was out of this world, especially with red wine. The cheese comes from the La Mancha region and so is called the "cheese of Don Quixote." C.C.'s shrimp starter was sizzling so furiously I thought the shrimp would pop out of the skillet. "Normally I pull the shells off with my fingers," she said, fumbling with fork and knife to get the garlic-soaked delicacies out of their skins.
My filet mignon was a succulent, tender piece of meat, but I had apparently not convinced the waitress that when I say I want my meat bloody, I mean it. It was still delicious, just medium rare. C.C.'s lotte was accompanied by a whole aquarium's worth of mussels and big crayfish. It was the best looking plate of seafood I've seen in Warsaw, and, in C.C.'s description, the most delicious too.
C.C. tried to decline dessert, but the waitress and I talked her into trying the chocolate mousse, which the waitress tagged as a homemade house specialty. "One bowl, two spoons, you have to try it, it's wonderful," the waitress gushed.
She was absolutely right. If you are serious about chocolate, you have to try it. Our dueling spoons clicked and clacked as we fought for the last spoonful.
Besides some of the best food I've ever eaten in Warsaw, Valencia has the best waitress I've encountered if memory serves me well. C.C. agrees. The food, the service, the bird's eye view, Valencia is one of my favorites. Our meal came to zl. 318 before tip.
This week, however, is Valencia. The Spanish restaurant, formerly of ulica Smocza, has new digs and perhaps the best eatery real estate in town. The Valencia tip came from my Capitalist Comrade. How better to repay the favor than to invite my favorite carrot-topped commissar to dinner?
Neither C.C. nor I had ever been to the original Valencia. The WBJ's first reviewer, Sam Worthington, wrote about it three years ago, and said it was in the basement of an uninviting, grey Communist office block. Apparently the restaurateurs faced a rent hike and took a step up, a big step up.
Valencia's second coming is 38 floors up at the top of the Intraco building, after the Palace of Culture and Science perhaps the oldest high-rise downtown and now getting a facelift. However, to get to the top you've got to walk - one flight of steps. Intraco's speed elevator only goes to the 37th floor, from where we followed our noses down the corridor, around a corner and up a flight of stairs. Hasn't anyone heard of signage? Upstairs, across from the massage parlor, for those hard-working bankers, is the door leading to Valencia on the right.
Tall windows run all the way down the long room's lefthand, and south-facing, side, presenting diners with a panorama of downtown Warsaw landmarks - from the Vistula, Old Town and new Supreme Court building to the east, to the Palace of Culture and other new towers front and city center, then west where street lights trail off to the horizon behind Daewoo's Warsaw Trade Tower.
Nine times out of 10 in chic places like this, the waitress turns out to be a young airhead who apparently won her job in a hotlegs contest. Not so at Valencia. We were seated next to the windows by a mature, wonderfully pleasant woman. When I'd made the reservation, I hadn't thought to choose a window table. The management, however, did and it was the right choice. The long, rectangular dining room is set up with two rows of tables: the front row ring side to the cityscape. The second row a little farther back still has a great view, but it's definitely not so breathtaking, if you like to gaze down from high places.
Once settled, I ordered an aperitif, a Porto (zl. 18 by the glass). At first C.C. said she would pass on a pre-meal tipple, but the cheerful waitress changed C.C.'s sober air as she spun a tale half in gestures about a delicious Cointreau concoction. The barkeep could whip it up for her, she only need command. C.C. was stung with desire. The waitress returned with drinks and an ample basket of bread, and three bowls: one with big green olives, another filled with a sweet, chunky tomato spread and the third with garlic butter, gratis.
Voila! Ready to eat. A glance at the menu brought me back to reality. It's a bit long, and on the expensive side. Hot and cold starters run zl. 25-40, soups zl. 15-20. A selection of paellas is in the zl. 30-56 range. But there is a big selection of tapas and bocadillos sandwiches, for under zl. 20.
Of course, you can pick and choose around the expensive items. But where's the fun in that? I decided on a starter plate of Spanish ham and goat cheese (zl. 48) and a main of filet mignon in Roquefort sauce (zl. 40). C.C. went with a dish of fried shrimp in garlic sauce to start (zl. 39) and a main called "fresh lotte á la marinera" - monkfish (zl. 82).
The all-Spanish wine list looked good, but nothing under zl. 100 per bottle. C.C. needed a white to go with her meal, and a half bottle of '97 Chablis for zl. 68 was tempting. But I was looking for a red. A Rioja Gran Reserva '64 from Faustino would have been nice, but at zl. 330, out of my league. In the end we each took a glass of house wine (zl. 12), which was very good, so we had two more.
My entree was five slices of imported Spanish serrano ham and four wedges of Spanish manchego sheep's cheese. Serrano ham is an intensely flavored, raw cured meat, called the "Spanish Parma" by many. The slightly sharp but soft manchego cheese was out of this world, especially with red wine. The cheese comes from the La Mancha region and so is called the "cheese of Don Quixote." C.C.'s shrimp starter was sizzling so furiously I thought the shrimp would pop out of the skillet. "Normally I pull the shells off with my fingers," she said, fumbling with fork and knife to get the garlic-soaked delicacies out of their skins.
My filet mignon was a succulent, tender piece of meat, but I had apparently not convinced the waitress that when I say I want my meat bloody, I mean it. It was still delicious, just medium rare. C.C.'s lotte was accompanied by a whole aquarium's worth of mussels and big crayfish. It was the best looking plate of seafood I've seen in Warsaw, and, in C.C.'s description, the most delicious too.
C.C. tried to decline dessert, but the waitress and I talked her into trying the chocolate mousse, which the waitress tagged as a homemade house specialty. "One bowl, two spoons, you have to try it, it's wonderful," the waitress gushed.
She was absolutely right. If you are serious about chocolate, you have to try it. Our dueling spoons clicked and clacked as we fought for the last spoonful.
Besides some of the best food I've ever eaten in Warsaw, Valencia has the best waitress I've encountered if memory serves me well. C.C. agrees. The food, the service, the bird's eye view, Valencia is one of my favorites. Our meal came to zl. 318 before tip.
