(Manfred Klimek: Text & Photo)
In the photo above, a man is sitting at a green table, looking grumpy – the sort of look you get in Vienna when you’re actually in the best of spirits. Next to him is a woman who’s just tidying up the glasses and chairs. Behind them are vines, trees, and early summer. The man bears a striking resemblance to Jarvis Cocker of Pulp, had he at some point decided to produce ‘Gemischten Satz’ rather than Britpop. The woman is Jutta Ambrositsch. The man is Marco Kalchbrenner. Together they run the Buschenschank in Residence in Grinzing. Because superlatives are usually nonsense, I use them sparingly. Here, I’ll make an exception: this is the greatest Buschenschank in the world.
Not the prettiest. Not the most luxurious. Not the most famous. Quite simply, the greatest.
If only because nothing here looks overly polished. The tables are simple. So are the benches. The garden, with its fair share of concrete, makes no pretence of competing for an architecture prize. You sit amongst vines and trees, surrounded by people who have actually come for the wine and food. Not for Instagram. Not for Viennese clichés. Not for a tourist’s idea of a Heurigen. The Buschenschank in Residence is the antithesis of that ‘Heurigen hell’ found in many places – a mix of Viennese kitsch, ready-made spreads and coach-tour crowds. Here, the staff take wine and food seriously, but themselves, thankfully, not at all.
The staff alone are something of a sensation. West German post-punk rather than Viennese waiter folklore. Barman Jakob Schönberger, himself an outstanding winemaker, moves through the evening with that blend of competence and, at times, seemingly detached indifference that only people who are truly skilled possess. No one here explains the world unsolicited. No one gives lectures on minerality. No one is trying to impress. And that is precisely why everything is so impressive.
And then there’s the food. Thum’s marinated veal tongue is one of those dishes that really ought to be banned, because after tasting it, other veal tongues hardly make any sense anymore. Tender, juicy, perfectly seasoned. The cucumber salad initially seems like an afterthought but turns out to be a succulent masterpiece of that Austrian cuisine which makes more out of a few ingredients than others do out of twenty – a little more pepper, or cumin, would be just the thing. The shredded veal head, on the other hand, packs a punch that shatters any notion of wellness. Brutal. Magnificent. Precise. Not a dish for the faint-hearted. Accompanied by a selection of cheeses that wasn’t put together to tick any particular box, but simply because someone clearly loves cheese.
What holds it all together, however, are the wines. Jutta Ambrositsch has been one of Austria’s most interesting winemakers for years. Her wines possess that rare ability to be both profoundly serious and overwhelmingly enjoyable to drink. Not a gram of excess. Not a gram of vanity. The Riesling ‘Utopie’ from the Rosengartl vineyard possesses an almost strikingly crisp clarity without ever calling into question the variety or this Viennese expression of the variety, which is as un-German as it gets. The Blaufränkisch ‘Hoellwaerts’ sits exactly where a Blaufränkisch should: juicy, cool, spicy, without that over-extraction with which some winemakers sometimes mask their insecurity. And then there are the two ‘Gemischte Sätze’. In the Schlegel bottle (Fürchtegott), they seem almost West Hungarian in their natural ease. In the litre bottle (Ein Liter Wien), on the other hand, they remind us that wine, above all, is meant to be drunk and enjoyed, without us needing to ponder the tasting experience. Both work well. Both belong here. Also new is the Himmelwaerts Chardonnay, which, having just been bottled, needs air and time to properly express its grand Northern Burgundy influence.
Nothing here needs to be anything other than what it is. The ‘Gemischter Satz’ is allowed to be ‘Gemischter Satz’. The ‘Kalbszunge’ is ‘Kalbszunge’. The ‘Garten’ is ‘Garten’. The landlord is Jarvis Cocker from Grinzing. And it is precisely from this that something arises which has become rare: authenticity without a marketing department. Nor do the two of them need one, for Jarvis Cocker from Grinzing was a gifted copywriter and Mrs Jutta an excellent graphic designer – the labels are, of course, her work
We leave this Buschenschank with the feeling that perhaps the world hasn’t yet been completely taken over by concepts, target group analyses and staged experiences. There are still places that simply work. The Buschenschank in Residence is one such place.
Because it is the greatest Buschenschank in the world.
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