German Music Imports & Cafe
For years, I wondered how on earth a tiny little German music import store could function, in of all places, York County. Then one day, I noticed that the sign had grown - "& Cafe" had been tacked onto the end of "German Music Imports."
Was Das Waldcafe in Newport News finally getting a little friendly competition? Intrigued, I made plans to drop in and find out.
It is housed in yet another unassuming strip mall off of Route 17. Stepping inside, I momentarily experienced sensory overload - German magazines, cassette tapes, glasses, snacks, posters and what seemed to be the contents of some great-grandmother's German trinket collection, covering every available surface. I loved it instantly.
Half of the room is dedicated to retailing German music and imports, while the opposite side functions as the restaurant. Tables, draped in plastic-covered white lacy tablecloths, are arranged for maximum seating capacity, with a single booth close to the kitchen.
My husband and I opted to sit close to the lace-covered front window. Next to a small pond, a forest of live plants were dotted whimsically with gnomes. Glancing at the beverage listing, my eyes were drawn to the eclectic teas - rosehip, fennel, and lime flower, to name a few. Finally settling on a frosty Hefe-Weizen (23 ounces/$5.50), we had a few minutes to pore over the menu.
The classics are in force here, with Leberkaese (pan-fried pork or beef loaf served with fried egg and potatoes; $9.95), Wursts (sausages; $7.95) and Jaegerschnitzel (a breaded veal or pork cutlet; $10.95) vying for attention. After much deliberation, my husband went with the gulasche, while I chose the Blutwurst Belegte Brote (6.95), an open-faced blood sausage sandwich.
Our waitress reminded me instantly of dining out in the outskirts of Ramstein; she was blunt, unflappable and armed with a wry, engaging sense of humor. She also had no problem in answering my multiple questions on the menu choices, and offering some recommendations of her own.
Sitting back to check out the surroundings, it was obvious that this was a tightly-knit operation; one waitress, one or two mysterious folk back in the kitchen, and sometimes a third working the retail side. Folk who were obviously regulars began piling in at an amazing rate, and soon our sole server was running laps around the room.
Having gotten in just under the wire, we soon had generously portioned plates of German goodness in front of us. Dave took one bite of his gulasche, and started laughing, before offering me a taste. The slowly-cooked beef was meltingly tender in its rich gravy, and piled upon some of the fluffiest spaetzle (small boiled dumplings that resemble noodles) I've tasted yet. Sadly, it was also the last bite he willingly handed over, and none was left to take home.
Now, I'd never had blood sausage before, so my sandwich was an entirely new experience. It was surprisingly smooth-tasting, freckled with chunks of fat, and quite dark. It made a good companion to the hearty German bread, spread with just the right amount of cream cheese. Filling stuff, and hopefully, good for the iron-count as well.
As if that weren't enough, each of our orders came with sides.
I had the red cabbage, which was rosy and soft, with muted, warming spices. Dave went with the German potato salad, which had a consistency somewhere between cubed and mashed. The bright flavor was enhanced by smoky chunks of bacon, and both sides were a fine foil to the rich meats. A basket of rolls was set out, along with butter, but we skipped these, as the flavor and texture was unassuming.
On return visits, I've worked my way through the wursts, and been pleased every time. Now if I can just manage to save room one of these days for dessert, it will be a full, fine meal indeed. «
Was Das Waldcafe in Newport News finally getting a little friendly competition? Intrigued, I made plans to drop in and find out.
It is housed in yet another unassuming strip mall off of Route 17. Stepping inside, I momentarily experienced sensory overload - German magazines, cassette tapes, glasses, snacks, posters and what seemed to be the contents of some great-grandmother's German trinket collection, covering every available surface. I loved it instantly.
Half of the room is dedicated to retailing German music and imports, while the opposite side functions as the restaurant. Tables, draped in plastic-covered white lacy tablecloths, are arranged for maximum seating capacity, with a single booth close to the kitchen.
My husband and I opted to sit close to the lace-covered front window. Next to a small pond, a forest of live plants were dotted whimsically with gnomes. Glancing at the beverage listing, my eyes were drawn to the eclectic teas - rosehip, fennel, and lime flower, to name a few. Finally settling on a frosty Hefe-Weizen (23 ounces/$5.50), we had a few minutes to pore over the menu.
The classics are in force here, with Leberkaese (pan-fried pork or beef loaf served with fried egg and potatoes; $9.95), Wursts (sausages; $7.95) and Jaegerschnitzel (a breaded veal or pork cutlet; $10.95) vying for attention. After much deliberation, my husband went with the gulasche, while I chose the Blutwurst Belegte Brote (6.95), an open-faced blood sausage sandwich.
Our waitress reminded me instantly of dining out in the outskirts of Ramstein; she was blunt, unflappable and armed with a wry, engaging sense of humor. She also had no problem in answering my multiple questions on the menu choices, and offering some recommendations of her own.
Sitting back to check out the surroundings, it was obvious that this was a tightly-knit operation; one waitress, one or two mysterious folk back in the kitchen, and sometimes a third working the retail side. Folk who were obviously regulars began piling in at an amazing rate, and soon our sole server was running laps around the room.
Having gotten in just under the wire, we soon had generously portioned plates of German goodness in front of us. Dave took one bite of his gulasche, and started laughing, before offering me a taste. The slowly-cooked beef was meltingly tender in its rich gravy, and piled upon some of the fluffiest spaetzle (small boiled dumplings that resemble noodles) I've tasted yet. Sadly, it was also the last bite he willingly handed over, and none was left to take home.
Now, I'd never had blood sausage before, so my sandwich was an entirely new experience. It was surprisingly smooth-tasting, freckled with chunks of fat, and quite dark. It made a good companion to the hearty German bread, spread with just the right amount of cream cheese. Filling stuff, and hopefully, good for the iron-count as well.
As if that weren't enough, each of our orders came with sides.
I had the red cabbage, which was rosy and soft, with muted, warming spices. Dave went with the German potato salad, which had a consistency somewhere between cubed and mashed. The bright flavor was enhanced by smoky chunks of bacon, and both sides were a fine foil to the rich meats. A basket of rolls was set out, along with butter, but we skipped these, as the flavor and texture was unassuming.
On return visits, I've worked my way through the wursts, and been pleased every time. Now if I can just manage to save room one of these days for dessert, it will be a full, fine meal indeed. «
posted by s'kat at 1:26 PM
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