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With Leopold's, The City's Craving for Brats and Pilsner Has Officially Been Awakened

Photo by Ed Anderson

 

It might be a stretch to call the hearty trappings of Central Europe a palate cleanser, but in a city saturated in Neapolitan pizzas, French bistros (see page 74), and a growing number of izakaya joints, a plate of wiener schnitzel with lingonberry sauce offers a refreshing break.

Not to say this is a complete novelty. For a long time, Suppenküche in Hayes Valley had the hip-with-spätzle market cornered. Walzwerk and Schmidt’s followed suit. But the turning point might have come in January when Leopold’s, a chummy Austrian gasthaus—complete with dark wood wainscoting and egg-yolk yellow walls cluttered just so with mounted deer heads and family portraits—took over the former Antica Trattoria space in Russian Hill. No one’s yet calling for an end to margherita madness, but it does say something about the changing of the guard.

The owners of Leopold’s are industry stalwarts Klaus and Albert Rainer. The brothers, who grew up in Salzberg, Austria, came here in their 20s and opened several restaurants including Hyde Street Bistro and Metropol in Union Square (the latter of which they still own). Their new endeavor—named after their grandfather, a mustachioed trader whose goods appropriately included wine—is something they’ve been planning for years. What they didn’t expect was the instant European community that Leopold’s has drawn. “Every night I meet about 15 people who are Swiss, German, or Austrian,” says Albert, who mans the kitchen while his gregarious brother works the floor. “I’ve been living here for 20 years and I’m wondering, where have you been all this time?”

In true gasthaus spirit, Leopold’s prices are friendly. And just in time for our city’s obsession with European beers, the selection here runs from Belgian to Dutch. Steins include a liter (a mass), a 2-liter (a boot) and even a 5-liter. “One person often orders a boot for themselves,” says Albert, who’s partial to the Bitburger pilsner. “And they still can walk out of here.”

Austrian food is influenced by Northern Italy, should you wonder about the pappardelle. And yes, there’s house-made smoked salmon with potato pancakes, but there’s also pig trotters with a poached egg and beef short ribs over mashed potatoes, all topped with delicate onion rings. The Rainers’ mother’s recipe for chicken soup with dumplings is flawless and leaves plenty of room for the great apple strudel.

But this Euro party is just getting started. Over at Bar Tartine, Nicholas Balla has taken over. The chef, who made his name at the izakaya Nombe, is Hungarian, and the new menu will reflect that. Not that Bar Tartine is going to be dressing their servers in cheeky dirndl dresses. For now, Leopold’s still has the market on that. 

 

*Published in the April issue of 7x7 Magazine

My head against the right side window of the number 19 bus rattling up Polk, I am tired, but I don't want to go home. I am just emotionally drained, the stress of my new kitchen and second job having sapped me of my energy through the narrow straw which is my boss' voice over the course of 9 hours. I want to feel welcomed and warm. The bus rattles on. Where are we now? Green? Almost back home. Le sigh.
"Danke schoen~" a voice that can only be described as jolly thunders.
"Bitt-ah shoon!" twittering voices respond playfully. The bus pauses. A light enters my vision.
It is Leopold's. A yellow corner of glowing laughter on an otherwise empty block of Russian Hill's polk street neighborhood. So close to the suburban lip of the hill that I hadn't noticed it before in the daytime, when its' shades were drawn in such a fashion that the now glistening glass eyes of Leopold's goldenrod facade had appeared asleep in comparison to the jovial scene that was glittering before me now.
The bus starts up again. I almost ask the bus driver to stop- but hold my tongue at the last minute, remembering that I've work in the morning, and that I've already eaten. The scene shrinks as I am pulled away by obligation. The sounds of Germanic cheering with it's deeply umlauted vowels and breathy Ses and Rs fade out behind me like the dying music playing out the ending credits of a lovely film about the european life. From this distance, I can still see the portly man who I just know is the source of that booming Thank You turn to reenter his restaurant. And I want to go in with him.
And that's just what I got from passing.

Sadly, I've still yet to enter Leopold's. But I know a good restaurant when I see, nay, feel one. Leopold's attraction to natives of the Germanic and Scandinavian nations may be of surprise to owner Klaus, but speaking as a person who so desperately misses the engulfing and sincerely welcoming atmosphere of German bars and Bierhauses, it is no surprise to me why Leopold's has done and is doing so well.

I've spent a fair bit of time in Switzerland, since my wife is from there, and as an extension, Germany and Austria as well. The food here is incredible, the ambiance is warm, the beer flows like wine, and overall this place sets the European bar in SF...sorry Supen Kuche, you've taken a major back seat.

I knew I remembered Klaus from somewhere. Turns out it was because I saw him all the time greeting patrons sitting in the outdoor tables at Metropol, around the corner from my old office.