I have always lived in touristy locations – Saint-Petersburg, Moscow, New York. And although I hate touristy attractions – I don't enjoy crowds in general – sometimes I love being a tourist at home.
My friend decided to take me to the very foundation of Saint-Petersburg this afternoon – Peter-and-Paul Fortress, the original citadel of the city founded by Peter the Great in 1703.
Today, the fortress hosts various museums, historical artifacts, moving exhibitions, indoor/outdoor installations, and of course restaurants. Super-touristy, sky-highly priced restaurants. One of them, Austerlitz, was visited today by yours truly. I'm no restaurant critic, but I cannot keep my mouth shut about this experience.
Upon entering the restaurant you immediately realize that Austerlitz stuck-up («пафосный», as they now say it in my mother tongue). A big space full of light, framed with naval paintings on the walls and ship models on the window sills, is neatly nested with white-clothed tables set with elaborate perfection and chic – 155 knives, 155 forks, 155 wine glasses and water flutes and… no hosts, no waiters. We cautiously step in. The bright silence of the room is offended only by seldom tapping of forks against plates. We take this as a sign that this ship hasn't been jumped just yet and there is hope that under the right star alignment we might even get fed.
In the absence of a host we choose our own table – a nice little white tower dedicated to the art of stuck-up table setting. Completely undisturbed, we admire the masterpiece for about 10 minutes and although appreciative of the design plan, we start to get a bit frustrated – barbarians that we are we actually expect food at a restaurant. The management of the place must have trained the staff to be very sensitive to the clients' negative soul vibrations, because immediately (finally!) a guy appears in front of our table. The choice of words here is deliberate – you cannot call this "guy" a waiter, especially not a waiter of a high-class wannabe restaurant. His slightly crumpled face matches his similarly wrinkled uniform perfectly. He looks completely lost. You cannot shake the feeling that he has just woken up from a sweet little nap somewhere in the kitchen (there are a few tiny grease stains on his uniform to support this assumption) on his very first day at work.
We ask for a bottle of water and an ashtray. Ten more minutes pass by uneventfully, at the end of which our guy reappears. This time he is all perked up and coquettishly holding a crisp white towel across his arm, but – almost expected – with no ashtray or water. "Oh, I'm so sorry the water and ashtrays are not cooperating today", I am a master of polite sarcasm. I immediately regret being so insensitive though: the guy's face contorts with a painful mix of emotions – a vague remembrance of the water/ashtray request, a shocking realization that the said request was actually directed at him ("Oh my, I really work here? Wow…" – says his face for a split second), an equally shocking realization that he has no clue where the water and ashtrays come from in this establishment, and finally, a complete inability to take any further action. He stands still next to us for several more seconds and then leaves – slowly, without saying a word, as if contemplating something very important.
The fruit of the guy's contemplative labor shows at our table in another 5 minutes. It is what looks like a real waitress. At least, she is displaying waiter-related paraphernalia – menus in her hand and "let me tell you our today's specials" look on her face. By this time, we've been at Austerlitz for about 25 minutes, and are eager to attract any sign of being at a restaurant to our table. Natalya, the waitress, is very positive and attentive. Quickly, I dare say professionally, she takes our order asking all relevant questions in the process, and comes back with the long-awaited ashtray and water in under a minute.
The restaurant boasts an extensive authentic Russian food menu, so we order horseradish-honey-lemon (3-in-1) vodka (amazing! I didn't even need to chase it with anything), a wild mushroom soup, a wild duck schi (cabbage soup), a mustard herring with boiled potatoes, and – out of sheer curiosity – a 3 kinds of salo platter. Russian salo
is something like French lardon. Its variety of uses is notable: from cooking fat to an exquisite gourmet snack. I have only tried one kind of salo before, so the reason we ordered the platter is actually to try the difference between the three. Intrigued, I kept offering my theories, "one kind will definitely be smoked", "ok, one kind will be the regular, the second – smoked, and then third – hmmmm, cured", "is there cured salo? wow, I would really like there to be cured salo, cured meat is amazing, and salo is kind of meat, fatty meat", "yes, so it'll be one regular, one smoked, and one cured. I cannot wait!!!" …
The food comes looking all delightful. My gaze immediately stops on the salo platter. It is set gorgeously – three piles of future deliciousness tastefully separated by three kinds of different herbs (dill, parsley, cilantro). Yum, yum, yum… Wait a second – disturbingly, I can't tell the difference between the salo pieces. Already feeling the trick, but trying not to panic just yet, I ask our Natalya, the real waitress, to explain what the difference is. And – oh disappointment! – "You know, we don't have the three kinds any longer, so we just put a lot more of one kind on the same platter for you! Enjoy!" our wound-up waitress doll bubbles. I say nothing. What's the point…
After a brief down moment, we get back to our positive selves – after all, everything, even the one kind of salo, is spectacularly delicious here – and enjoy the food. I order coffee and Natalya offers a dessert special for me, a warm apple something, "The only thing is, - she is earnestly warning me. – It'll take 13 minutes to prepare". Seriously, thirteen minutes??? After all of this, such precision?! I fight real hard not to burst out laughing in her face and even order this apple something and enjoy it.
Note: This price tag on this meal was $150. Yes, 2 soups, 2 appetizers, 2 coffees, 1 cake and 4 shots of 3-in-1 vodka for lunch cost us 150 American dollars.
