During the summer, some South African travel writer named Jeremy Maggs scribbled out a short piece ranking Czech food as the world's nastiest stuff, besting ... um, make that worsting, the much-maligned fare churned out by British kitchens. (He managed to overlook some of the legendary dishes shoveled down by the kilted rabble to the north, but no matter.)

We ran his accusations by several area chefs, and their responses ranged from speechless dismay to nodding agreement to philosophical wishy-washiness. Vlastimil Pospíchal of Lví dvůr argues that such an assertion "could be made about any international food" because, in the larger scheme of things, "everybody likes something different." Indeed, people in the Western world once scoffed at Japan's fascination with raw fish, only to be swept up in the sushi craze many decades later. So it's entirely feasible that one day, fine-dining restaurants in New York City, London and, yes, Johannesburg, could be serving svíčková to admiring crowds.

Or not — for, as Jerome Lorieux, chef at La Provence, points out, Czech cuisine "has a long way to go." Certainly the long and dreary communist era beat much of the life out of nightlife and put the skids on centuries of progress. As a result, he says, "The popularity of Czech food tends to be about price." And cost works both ways, limiting popular acceptance of innovation and encouraging restaurants to cut back on quality.

"I don't like Czech food because a lot of places don't do it in the classic style," says Rudolf Doležal, chef at Oliva. "It's absolutely simple, but restaurants here try to do it even cheaper."

Simple, adds CzecHouse chef Roman Paulus, like French country cooking. "People think Czech means pork and dumplings, but that's not all of it," he explains. "There's venison and trout — the foods of the forests and rivers."

So, in charging Czech kitchens with "high crimes of the stomach," Maggs oversteps his bounds, at least according to our panel of chefs. "Food is part of a culture," Paulus says. Figure out one and you're well on the way to understanding the other. Call it the worst, on the other hand, and "you basically call the culture no good."

Evidence for the defense

CzecHouse, by the way, serves a surprisingly good svíčkova. If you can't afford the high-end digs at the Hilton, then sample the duck at U Dělového kříže, drop by Ferdinanda for goulash or head out to Budvarka for a platter of ribs. But Maggs is probably right when it comes to dumplings.

Fair game

During deer season in Pennsylvania, hunters excuse indiscriminate slaughter with a shrug and a Rumsfeld-esque slogan: "If it's brown, it's down." Assuming local sportsmen are as cavalier, there should be plenty of fresh meat available for the venison feast at Černý kohout. Starting Oct. 13 and running through the 21st, chef Jiří Petřík will feature several old Bohemian (and French) recipes.

Wine and dine

For those wishing to remain neutral, Fluidum offers a taste of Swiss wines paired with Alpine specialties Oct. 12. Sommelier Lukáš Pešek has selected 10 varietals, which he may (or may not) uncork with an army knife. The cost for this mini-bacchanal is 300 Kč ($13.50).

Michelin Star days start Oct. 12 and continue through Oct. 21 at CzecHouse, with meals prepared under the direction of one-star chef Thierry Baudour from Brussels.

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