Here’s an old Czech proverb: Lepsi jeden prd nez deset doktoru, or “Better one fart than ten doctors.” It’s earthy advice for digestive health, but it’s also an apt metaphor for what’s going on at Bohemian House.
That’s why his potato pancakes are dainty little things; a trio of bites, dabbed with apple preserves, kohlrabi matchsticks, and ribbons of cured salmon with dill fronds for corsages. These are three dear ($12) and tasty little hors d’oeuvres—or they would have been had they arrived when they were still hot (one of a few examples of poor pacing and disorganized service that hadn’t been ironed out by the time I visited).
Only a quartet of doughy plum kolacky nod toward the old country at dessert, though a better bet is an intensely dark and bitter chocolate custard offset by a scoop of salt caramel ice cream. It’s odd that there are only two Czech beers among the 15 on draft, and no Czech wines on a very short, unremarkable list—though there is something on the generally classic, basic cocktail list called a “Czech-Gria”—a combination of curacao and Czech wine that isn’t nearly as sweet as you’d expect.
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