Saturday, Evan and I stopped in to a restaurant on Andrassy that we’ve passed many times. It always looks good and inviting with it’s big windows and funky wallpaper, but we seem to always walk by too late. This weekend, though, on our quest for an early afternoon brunch, we decided instead to to take a long, leisurely lunch.
We were seated at the first table in front of the door, which made us a bit wary. The night before, we’d had a pretty miserable experience at another restaurant, squished at a small table in front of the entrance and hitting the bar. But our table at Klassz worked out well–there was a purple and yellow curtain surrounding the entrance so we wouldn’t get a draft, and though most tables were full, the restaurant never felt overstuffed.
Our table was charmingly quirky, just like the seemingly mismatched walls (Chew.hu has some photos you can check out). It had hot pink napkins and a lace doily that looks like something someone’s grandma made under the salt and pepper shakers. Actually, the whole bright and clean restaurant could be defined as granny-hipster chic. I was even inspired to walk all the way to the back, past the bar built of wine cases to the wine cellar that had three more tables set up.
We started out with soup–I got potato cream with a poached egg and Evan got vegetable with ricotta ravioli. The big surprise was how the soups were served. The server brought our bowls to the table–mine with the egg and Evan’s with the ravioli–then poured the soup over our little prizes from individual copper pots. The potato soup was great, and I loved how when I cut open the egg’s yolk it added a shock of orange to the pale soup; the vegetable soup was good, but more standard.
For the main course, I had vegetable risotto–a deliciously decadent, creamy and cheesy concoction with peas, spinach and carrots. Evan had rabbit on a tomato risotto–he said the meat was cooked perfectly and his portion was so big it looked like he barely touched the risotto, though I’m sure he had quite a bit.
The best surprise of all was that toward the end of the meal, I realized that nobody in the restaurant was smoking. Everything smelled fresh and clean and there weren’t any ashtrays in sight–definitely different for a Hungarian restaurant and quite a treat for us Californians.
What a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Next time we’ll have to save room for dessert!