Cafe Steinhof
1/2
I was thinking this place would be more like Zum Schneider where I had a
traumatic semi-meal (through no fault of the restaurant–a stoned, birthday
boy friend starting digging into my plate of food) a few weeks prior. I was
thinking beer and sausage, but it's a little more refined.
Initially, I was a little thrown off by the distracted, cross-dressing
host. He had this mild Liza Minelli meets Riot Grrl look that I couldn't
figure out. He's the effeminate type I can't put my finger on, the kind who
might get all crazy and try to give me an exotic foot massage without my
consent.
So the restaurant is Austrian, not German and what do I know about
authenticity? James insisted there was nothing Austrian about the food, but
he's got his culinary history all wrong, claiming paprika's Indian when
everyone knows it's associated with Hungary. And that's what I had, the
chicken paprika with spaetzle. It was very rich in a dark red sauce, more
sour creamy than spicy as I'd expected. Not a big noodle fan, the spaetzle
still hit the spot, and tasted even better re-heated as leftovers. James the
sour puss (ok, fine, fried cod might not be an Austrian specialty) had
sauerbraten with red cabbage. Items that struck me as Austrian: Black
sausage strudel, liptauer cheese, Gulash, Linzer Torte and Rosti. It's all
German/Swiss/Hungarian mish mashed, but so what. They also had a cocktail
called the Klaus Kinski. While a scary man, at least it wasn't the Arnold
Schwarzeneger.
Cafe Steinhof * 422 Seventh Ave., Brooklyn, NY