Eating in this museum of kitsch is like dining inside a cuckoo clock -- one that smells faintly of beer and boiled cabbage and echoes with oompah music. But if you can get past the Old World shlock, you'll enjoy fantastic views and food that's primarily Germanic (with the occasional detour into other Eastern European classics), uncompromisingly good, unstintingly traditional, as rich and laden with butter, flour, fat and cream as it is larded with history.
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Coming down from the mountains, I was eating tafelspitz with my fingers. I was scooping up spaetzle — sticky with gravy, dyed purple by the pickled cabbage it had snuggled up against on the plate — and shoveling it into ...