For Florida's sole remaining sex surrogate, love is a many splintered thing.
It's not just giant companies cashing in on America's defense industry.
How a throwaway idea at the Barkley ad agency became the "Sonic Guys."
A diner's guide to Texas's oldest Mexican restaurants.
They certainly eat differently in Chicago, where the Palla family--Joe Sr., Emilie, son Joe Jr. and daughter Emilie ("We call her 'Emilie Jr.,'" Joe Sr. says. "It made coming up with names much easier")--landed after leaving their native Czechoslovakia. They ran a restaurant in the Windy City from 1980 until 1994, when they finally decided to try a location with better winters.
It took them until September of last year to fina-lize the deal on Golden Europe, which is located in a modest-sized, sparsely decorated space in Arvada. "In Chicago, [business] was steady year-round," Joe Sr. says. "And we got a lot of the people who ate this food in their countries. Here we get some, but not as many. And it seems like Coloradans are too busy outside when the weather is nice."
The Pallas have part of that problem figured out: They've just built a patio, which they plan to transform into a biergarten for Oktoberfest. Still, much of the food the kitchen turns out seems better suited to cold weather than al fresco dining. Who craves breaded pork tenderloin with potato dumplings and red cabbage in 95-degree weather?
Well, after discovering Golden Europe, I do. Emilie Sr. does all the cooking, and she somehow manages to lighten dishes that traditionally are heavy-going. This is no small achievement, considering that just about everything on the menu is described as being breaded, stuffed and fried, or breaded and fried, or stuffed and fried. And the few exceptions, such as the goulash soup ($1.95), contain potatoes or some other starch. But this soup, one of several the kitchen rotates daily, was so flavorful, it was easy to ignore the fact that it was filling as heck; the paprika-dyed stock was teeming with beef, celery, carrots and potatoes. Our other starter, the potato pancakes ($4.95 for four), were heavenly crosses between the mashed version and the grated latke style, fried to a perfect golden outside and steaming hot inside.
After all that, we thought there was no way we could eat more than a bite or two of our entrees. But Emilie Sr.'s cooking skill made the generous portions go down easily. Her breaded pork baby-back ribs ($10.95) encased tender, juicy meat in a thin but solid breading that had been cooked into a greaseless, crunchy shell. The side of thick-cut, soft-centered French fries was almost more than we could handle, but we regained our strength while plowing through a pile of simple steamed green beans. Less weighty was the chicken paprika ($8.95), a dish of beautifully roasted chicken parts dredged in ground sweet red pepper. This came with Emilie's buttery spaetzle, which was further wet down by the spice-laden sauce oozing from the chicken.
On our second trip to Golden Europe, we again ordered the potato pancakes and found them just as delightful as the first batch had been. By now we were feeling adventurous, and we made the mistake of ordering two combination plates--either one of which could have served two quite comfortably. The German plate ($15.95) held a quarter of a roasted duckling, two slices of roast pork loin, a piece of Wiener schnitzel the size of a Volkswagen headlight, two slices of bread dumplings, and a side of sauerkraut. With the exception of the schnitzel, which was too much chewy meat in too much bland breading, the meat offerings were well-seasoned, light on the breadcrumbs and nicely cooked. The pork loin featured a thin layer of breading around tender medallions. The duckling was particularly good; sprinkled with simple seasoning salt and pepper, it had been oven-toasted until it was crisp-skinned and juicy but not greasy. The bread dumplings tasted like the standard doughy wads, even if they looked a little different: Golden Europe takes the traditional dumpling dough and shapes it like a loaf before slicing and cooking. The result confuses many diners; Joe Sr. says people frequently mistake it for bread and ask for butter. The real standout, though, was the sauerkraut: Studded with caraway seeds and fermented to a tacky, wet mass, this cabbage dish was sauer, all right, but agreeably so.