Waiting for Godot

It is a unique torture to be in the second hour of awaiting entrees while a manager attends to a rose in another table's vase, a waiter cuts bread on a side table and another manager casually surveys the crowded restaurant, head in hands, from behind the bakery counter.

Our visit to La Gare started well enough, with delicious appetizers that arrived promptly. But as tables started to fill up, we waited while other diners ordered, ate, paid and left. Luckily, we'd been sated by the first courses. But of course it's the principle of the matter, as patience wears thin and the temptation grows to throw a chunk of baguette at a server's head.

In our halcyon first hour, we were delighted with our food, served in a beautiful white-brick setting accented with brass and mirrors. The steak tartare was diced rather than ground into mushy oblivion, and topped with bright yolk next to capers, onions, paprika and mustard. The only drawback was the cut of meat, which was lightly threaded with sinew.

Escargot was served by the dozen atop polished black stones. Elegant instruments allowed easy extraction of plump and tender snails, dressed with the typical garlic, parsley and butter that was given an extra complexity tasting of fennel.

The best of the three appetizers, tete de veau, defies description; the whole is much more than the sum of its parts and tastes infinitely better than one would infer from either a photo or ingredient list. Tender flesh from the face and head of a calf is interspersed with offal, often sweetbreads and brain, and held together in this instance with a silky gelatin that comes from boiling down the head. It is heavenly. Its traditional accompaniment, sauce ravigote, is a light stock, cut with white wine vinegar and seasoned with onions, capers and fine herbs. Our bowl was mopped clean with fresh bread.

Shortly after the appetizers, a beautiful version of soupe de poisson was delivered. The rust-colored broth tasted heavily of white fish, stewed and blended to create a thick consistency. But of course, for its biggest fans, the best part of this soup is the rouille, a pinkish garlic aoli, slathered on small baguette slices and floating atop the soup.

Alas, this was where the fun ended, as we waited an hour and a half for our next course. La Gare was simply understaffed, with two servers struggling to keep up with two filled dining rooms and a lively outdoor terrace. But that alone couldn't explain the wait. In fact, nobody explained the wait to us or even offered an apology or a sympathetic glance.

When the entrees did arrive, one of them absolutely stole the show - in the worst way possible. "This tastes like a closet!" said my otherwise forgiving dining companion of his Andouillette. He was right; the tripe and colon sausage had an aroma that transgressed the barnyard, bordering on downright fecal. One taste had us gulping wine in an effort to wash it from our mouths. But La Gare can't be entirely faulted, as Andouillette is an acquired taste renowned for its putrid perfume.

Ah, well. At least the Nicoise salad was perfect. The components were all there: boiled potato, sardines, bitter greens, briny olives and green beans with seared tuna - a nice upgrade of the usual canned version.

The poulet de Bresse was tasty but rather unremarkable, with delicate tender chicken meat falling off the leg bone in a dark gravy that tasted of earthy mushrooms. Accompanying french fries were wide-cut and tasty without being fantastic.

On a return visit the next evening, the rooms were once again full, and the staff size appeared the same. This time, we selected items for takeaway from a side gourmet store where customers can choose from a wonderful display of house-made pates, confitures and rilettes. The duck rilettes were elegantly topped with a thin layer of fat and a bay leaf, and interspersed with fresh thyme, a delight when spread on a crusty, rustic baguette.

A lemon-lime custard pie was an elegant version of key lime pie, made all the more special with real lime zest. A chocolate and pistachio tart layered a crushed green layer and dark chocolate ganache top. The chocolate was heavenly, while the pistachio layer was rather tasteless but nevertheless a nice base for the ganache.

Unless the staff situation at La Gare improves, diners looking for real French treats would be well-advised to try the takeaway store instead. If you're willing to endure the wait, it's worth getting a seat to sample the heavenly tete de veau, a dish not often seen in Prague, if ever. Whatever you do, make sure you know exactly what you're doing when you order the Andouillette, lest you be fooled by its simple description on the menu as a "sausage." Otherwise, you could be in for a surprise.

Claire Compton can be reached at
ccompton@praguepost.com