Nov. 17, 2004 - Issue #474: Planet Simpson
Bavarians at the gate
Salivating over strudel and schnitzel at belt-busting Barb & Ernie's
Well, actually, I guess an authentic German restaurant probably wouldn’t have walls festooned with schlock. Carved wooden plates from cities across the Tyrol threatened to overwhelm framed posters of Prussian panoramas and personalities. Genuine tourist kitsch and polka tunes lent just the right "oom-pah-pah" to the space. Missing tacky by a mile, I’ve never seen kitsch done so well. This looked like the perfect place for the hot German girls from Ferris Bueller’s parade float to cool off after the "Twist and Shout" number.
Barb herself seated us and took our orders. The menu was full of German, Hungarian and Swiss dishes that we recognized but had never tried, so Barb’s explanations in her delightful accent proved essential. My wide-eyed wife, truly comfortable in a space which lovingly recalled her Danish grandmother’s home, chose the Tiroler Ram Schnitzel ($13.95). I ordered one of the specials, the Roast Duck with Red Cabbage ($15.95), and we both settled on coffee ($1.50) to drink. Then I came to my senses and cursed myself for not having a stein of beer, which I could only assume would have come complete with one of those cool flip-lids. Barb informed us that our coffees would be another minute or so (for fresh brewing), whereupon the Master of the House appeared on the scene. Boisterous and jovial, trading quips with his wife, Ernie made the rounds. He shook hands and traded greetings with everyone present.
The coffees soon arrived, as did the soup and bread that were included with our meals. The dark rye was flavourful but completely eclipsed by the soup: the phenomenal beef stock was packed with veggies, an exquisite combination. Although we wanted to save room for our main courses, the soup vanished before we knew it and the dishes quickly cleared to make room for our entrées.
On my notepad, I wrote it twice: "Holy shit. Holy shit." Frankly, I was unprepared for the sheer vastness of the meals here: both our dinner plates were completely covered, and my duck nearly cleared the height of my coffee cup. Supported by half a baked apple stuffed with raisins, the succulent duck peeled off the bone in long strips and slid down in a tangy barbecue sauce. The red cabbage was warm and tart, the homemade German egg noodles were unexpectedly delicious, but that duck stole the show. My wife’s schnitzel was equally stunning. A whopping third of the plate consisted of a hearty mushroom stew, hiding tender pork in a tasty breading. Full of soup, rye bread and Mittel-european hospitality, neither of us made so much as a dent in our entrées before we decided to take them to go. Like the Nana we all know and love, Barb had a few choice comments about leaving without finishing our dinners!
But not before dessert. Barb shook her head when I asked to see the dessert menu and described them instead. A homemade apple strudel with "vipping cream" ($4.95) sounded too irresistible to refuse. Arriving minutes later with two forks, the strudel was buried under a slab of whipped cream you’d have to see to believe. "Nobody in the world has whipped cream like this," claimed my dessert-o-phile lifemate as she dove in. The crust was at once crisp and chewy, the slices of cinnamon-coated apple were piping hot and plump raisins swam in the cream runoff. Oh, mein Gött.
We staggered out of Barb & Ernie’s place full to bursting for just over 40 bucks, to which we added a generous tip. Both of us carried fond memories and enough leftovers for two (slightly more restrained) meals. Damn! I forgot to try the potato pancakes! Ah, well—any excuse to return to Barb & Ernie’s is something I’ll treasure. As soon as I can zip up my pants again. V
Barb & Ernie’s Old Country Inn
9906-72 Ave • 433-3242
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