We would never have found this cosy, genial beisl in the 9th district if we hadn’t visited K’s old friend from the World Bank, who lived around the corner. Zum Reznicek serves up the cuisine of Old Vienna, both noble (tafelspitz et al) and proletarian (innards, mainly) and has reputedly excelled at it for years.
When asked about the duck, apparently the house specialty, the lady owner shook her head and said, “You should have ordered in advance.” But November is Martini Goose month, and it is around the corner.
No matter—turned out October did just fine as we tucked into what must be the most exquisite pumpkin soup (kurbissuppe) in memory, spruced up by a few drops of pumpkin seed oil and red wine balsamico—it was creamy, sweet and tangy; haute and hearty at once.
Feeling magnanimous, I went for the Wiener schnitzel and was promptly disappointed—though not too much. It was still a solid dish, the schnitzels tender and generous even though the batter was no match for Plachutta, and for the first time in my life I was assailed by the temptation to gorge on meat until I passed out.
K, who had an epic hankering for proper Austrian knodel (beef liver balls) ordered the deer ragout with potato knodel and was also a little unhappy with his dish. (But the deer ragout was lovely, and did more than compensate. The potato salad, bratkartoffeln, spaetzle and red cabbage lived up to their rustic roots, as do, by reputation, fried brain with eggs and the more offal-driven dishes such as the salonbeuschel, chopped calf’s liver and heart served with creamy caper sauce.
The big-hearted, tavern-like hospitality (helps if you know the owners, as K’s friend and his wife do) capped off what was perhaps one of my most memorable evenings in Vienna.