Beer and Strudel O’Clock
Pictured: Toasting the capital
Ordinarily, you have to force the grog down me. I’m not a natural drinker. I’m one of those irritating gym bunnies who grins smugly over her veggie juice and has a bottle of wine in her kitchen cupboard that’s a vintage year – but only because she never got round to drinking it.
And then there was Prague. Sitting in the majestic Café Imperial I got a text from my friend. ‘You’ll have beer for breakfast.’ ‘Pah! Will I ever?’ I scoffed and ordered a strudel. ‘And to drink Madame?’, the waiter asked. ‘Oh g’on, I’ll have a Pilsner.’ It arrived in a chilled half-pint glass, bubbling just perfectly, like a pretty girl on her way to a Prom, and dreamily gold. It was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. Sometimes you have to travel to get the real thing. A freshly-picked orange in Seville, a, er, Manhattan in Manhattan. Nothing I’ve tasted in England since has hit the spot the way that Czech beer did. When in Prague every hour is ‘Beer and Strudel O’Clock’. Yum…
Would you like to leave a comment ?
You must be logged in to leave a message.