The gourmet's guide to Europe

staurant. It was at Borchardt’s that the celebrated “ round table dinners ” took place, intimate feasts at which the Kaiser was present, and at which Herr von Kiderlen-Waechter, the “Man in the Yellow Waistcoat,” the present Foreign Secretary, and Prince Philip zu Eulenberg, and Herr von Hostein, the diplomatist who shaped Germany’s policy at the Algeciras Conference, were others of the guests. The public dining-room at Borchardt’s is a room of crimson silk panels framed in dark wood. It has crimson portieres, and the general effect is of stately comfort. Little tables are set a good distance apart down either side of the room. The waiters all speak French if addressed in that language, and I fancy that ‘Berlin 217 many of the patrons of the establishment are diplo- matists. The carte of the day is in German, and is an ample one. The dishes which are ready at a moment’s notice are printed at the bottom of the menu. Those at mid-day, on one of the days I lunched at Borchardt’s, were baked trout, beefsteak a la Russe, and chicken and rice. At lunch time the cold buffet of the restaurant shows a great variety of dishes. The prices are not high, compared with a first-class restaurant in any other capital, but they are high for Berlin, which is a city of cheap feeding. This is a dinner I ate at Borchardt’s one evening in solitary state : — Bortch of Crab. Cutlets of Venison, Chasseur. Coupe a la Diable, the latter dish with the diabolical name being of iced chocolate, two other kinds of ice, and brandy cherries. I drank a half bottle of excellent Lieb- fraumilch, a cup of coffee, and a liqueur of old Chartreuse, and my bill came to 13 marks. Borchardt’s has a quite admirable cellar of wines, some vintages of champagnes which have long ago disappeared from British wine lists being still on its card, and it has some excellent old cognacs and a fine store of the Chartreuse made by the monks while they were still at their old home. Another quiet old-fashioned restaurant, smaller and more retiring than Borchardt’s, is Ewest’s in Behren- strasse. I had been told that Ewest’s Ewest’s, 26a was so conservative that strangers were Behrenstrasse not made very welcome there, but I was greeted by a portly butler- in dress clothes as though I was an old friend, and no old client could have been better treated than I was. Going through an ante-room one comes to the dining-room, of three little rooms thrown into 2i 8 The Gourmet's Guide to Europe one. The walls are of light green above a skirting of wood, the floors are of polished wood. Dark green velvet settees and chairs of black leather all tend to give the little room a quiet note. A portrait of one of the old Prussian kings and a portrait of the Kaiser in white tunic and a black cuirass adorn the walls. On the menu for lunch I found coquilles of salmon, lobster omelette, lobsters, herrings and beans, pork cutlets, a gulyas of veal, stuffed chicken, gosling, wild cherry open tart, and cream. I ate the omelette, a cutlet, and tart, drank a pint of Zeltinger and some Mattoni water, and paid a bill which came exactly to 5 marks. The cookery of the house is excellent and, as Julius Ewest is a wine merchant of the highest reputation, the wines in the cellar of his little res- taurant are admirable.