It was still cold here in NYC when I departed for Vienna, which was already enjoying its first days of spring. Naturally, one of my very first stops in Vienna was to have the Original Sacher-Torte. But first: a morning learning the history of the beautiful city and immersed in 19th century imperial life at the Hofburg Palace. Afterwards I set off in search of Cafe Sacher (the cafe occupies the first floor of the Sacher Hotel).
Not really believing I was finally there, I waltzed into the hotel and was seated at a table in a sun-drenched room of the cafe. (Of all the cafes in Vienna I visited, I was sure a table would be hardest to come by at the Cafe Sacher, but I was proven wrong: I was immediately seated there but was met with considerable waits at other cafes.) I had no need to consult the menu: I ordered a tea and the Original Sacher-Torte.
Not really believing I was finally there, I waltzed into the hotel and was seated at a table in a sun-drenched room of the cafe. (Of all the cafes in Vienna I visited, I was sure a table would be hardest to come by at the Cafe Sacher, but I was proven wrong: I was immediately seated there but was met with considerable waits at other cafes.) I had no need to consult the menu: I ordered a tea and the Original Sacher-Torte.
Out came the tea set: a silver tray bearing a pot of tea, a cup, and saucer. And the Sacher torte: it was exquisite! Two layers of chocolate cake; in-between, a thin spread of apricot jam, with a hint of tartness; and atop it all, a rich chocolate ganache. A generous dollop of unsweetened whipped cream fought for room on the plate. Every forkful revealed one flavor and texture melding into the other.
As soon as I stepped through the gate I was struck by the charm of the place: an outdoor garden with wooden picnic-style benches and long tables and leafy trees that offered shade; and the tavern itself: rustic, warm and inviting. Inside the tavern a woman behind a long display case helped me make my dinner selection: a kidney bean and corn salad heavy with vinegar, marinated roasted red peppers, potatoes cooked with yellow and green peppers, a roast pork, and some sheep's milk cheese. To wash it all down I was served a mug of their Gruner Veltliner. Sitting on the outdoor bench with the sun on my back, I feasted on my big meal.
I skipped dessert to save some room for one last treat in the city: the buchteln. The buchteln is a yeast bun, a sweet roll made of yeast dough, served warm and typically filled with a jam and topped with powdered sugar. I read that the best buchlten in Vienna are served at Cafe Hawelka.
It was late by the time I arrived at Cafe Hawelka. Dark and smoky, with a moody atmosphere, the cafe exemplifies the Central European tradition of writer/artist coffeehouses. A mismatch of comfortable, worn armchairs and sofas along with some upright chairs dot the room.
The cafe has no menu but that was no matter: I placed my order and moments later a plate of five straight-out-of-the oven buns was set in front of me. The buchteln were moist and chewy; the plum jam was tart; the powdered sugar sprinkling was generous. In-between writing in my journal -- aided by the strategically placed lamps scattered across the room -- I dug into the buns. What pure comfort!
That was how I spent my first day in the beautiful city of Vienna. My only regret of the day? I couldn't manage to eat all of the buchteln.