Just over a month ago, we saw a lot of construction works going on in the little square near where we live, and assumed that they were resurfacing the pavements.  Turns out that they were actually implanting permanent market stalls, because local elections are coming, and the politicians want the fact that they Build Stuff For The Community to be uppermost in everyone’s mind.  (There are brand-new flowerbeds by the tram stop where Zucchini’s not-really-a-grandmother lives.)

Just under a month ago, the FARMARSKE TRH signs went up.  Splendid, I found myself thinking.  Just what we need, a farmers’ market that sucks.  Another outlet for horribly overpriced sausages and the sort of earnestly-organic cheese that always looks like it’s going to be more interesting than it really is.  But seeing as I have to pass through there on the way to work, might as well check it out when it opens on Wednesday.  And hey, there’s going to be a gala opening with dechovka music (this is essentially Bavarian oompah music translated into Czech, although Czechs will not thank you for saying so) and fairytale puppets.  Hell, might as well bring Zucchini too.  Zucchini is a sucker for food markets, and it should entertain him at least.

(yeah, you see where this is going, don’t you?)

“Oh Aubergine, Best Beloved and guiding light of my existence, could you be an absolute dear and take this whole chicken, flat of enormous eggs [all double-yolked] and bushel of salad back to the flat so I’m not late for my important meeting today?”

Yeah. Between the pretty decent vegetable stalls, the posh-mushroom stall, the apples-that-taste-like-apples guy, the live fish people, and of course the Chicken Lady, our farmers’ market entirely failed to suck.

There are no pictures of the Chicken Lady, because it always seems rude to take pictures of people who are working.  She’s a small woman who runs a small chicken farm and has a huge grin.  The huge grin probably has something to do with the fact that every time she shows up at the market, she sells everything she’s got.  On the second market day, the Sunday after, we showed up half an hour after she’d opened and everything was gone.  Apparently one person bought up her entire stock of eggs.

So we had this fine chicken, a chicken far too nice (and too expensive) for any treatment other than roasting a la mode d’Anthony Bourdain (and just buy his book dammit, because his description of how to roast a chicken is a lot more amusing than mine).  Oven up to 190C.

Hello, Mr. Chicken.

No pictures of the next steps, because it would mean holding Zucchini’s camera with raw-chickeny hands.

Off with his neck!  Off with his wing-tips!  Out with his giblets!  Put them somewhere safe.  Wash him inside with cold water, and let him dry.

In with the cracked black pepper and salt, a bunch of thyme and rosemary, half a lemon and half a peeled onion.

In with the herb butter under the breast skin, a tablespoon on each side.  (My herb butter: chop the herbs you have around and squish up with the amount of butter called for in the recipe.  Mr. Bourdain’s herb butter is a little more involved.)

On with the trussing string.  Round one drumstick, round the other, tied up nice and tight so the legs are raised over the breast meat.  The second time you do this, you will know that it’s easier and more hygienic to sever the string before doing the trussing.

On with more of that salt and pepper, rubbed all over the skin.

Giblets and neck in the roasting pan with the other half of the onion.  Mr. Chicken on top of them.  (Wing-tips set aside to go into the stock you’re going to make with his skeleton.)  Half a cup of cheap white wine into the roasting pan (if it’s good white wine you should be drinking the stuff).  Into the oven with Mr. Chicken for 30 minutes, basting whenever you remember.  If your oven is anything like mine, Mr. Chicken should be shifted around every time you baste so he can cook evenly.  After 25 minutes, crank the oven up to 220C (says Mr. Bourdain) or as high as it goes (Mr. Chicken was a big chicken!) and cook for another 25 minutes.  Make an enormous salad (not pictured).  Take Mr. Chicken out and stick him on a plate ready for carving.

(If you don’t like gravy, omit this part and just rest your chicken for 15 minutes before carving.  And may the Lord have mercy on your soul.)

Put the roasting pan on the stovetop, pour in a cup of that cheap white wine and turn the heat on, scraping away at all the crusty bits.  A Pyrex or earthenware roasting pan will almost certainly not explode provided you keep the heat down very low.  It does add a little extra frisson of excitement though.

Pour the contents of the roasting pan into a milk pan and boil until reduced to half the volume.  Remove the giblets and onion, and set aside as the cook’s prerogative.  If you are a total butter-ho like Mr. Bourdain, this is the point when you can whisk a tablespoon of softened butter into the gravy.  I’m not altogether sure it’s necessary.

Open some white wine that’s at least one notch better than the wine you gave Mr. Chicken, and drink a toast to electoral cycles, local politicking and the Chicken Lady.

I pan broiled the chops in a heavy steel skillet.

When they were done, I deglazed the pan with the marinade and extra red wine and served the chops with stir fried Malabar spinach.

• Beets
• A fresh cucumber
• A bundle of radishes
• 2 cloves of young garlic
• Dill
• A scallion (because I couldn’t find chives)
• 750ml of žinčica
• A cup of yogurt
• A couple tablespoons of sour cream
• A 400g bag of Albert salt-pickled cucumbers. By salt-pickled, I mean the kind that don’t have any vinegar and require refrigeration, because there’s a live culture in them. Czech rychlokvasky, Polish malosolny ogorek, or actual Jewish, not frikikin ‘kosher style’, pickles. Can make them yourself easily enough.

First I separated the beets from the leaves, peeled the beets, and discarded the excess stem lengths.

I diced the beets and chopped the greens very fine.

I put the beets and greens in a pot, added water to cover, and brought to a simmer (NOT to a boil).

Meanwhile, I prepared a large bowl of water. When the beets were tender, I removed the pot from the stove and immersed it in the bowl of water. The pot and bowl were of such a size that I was able to spin the pot in the bowl, which cooled the pot down very quickly.  (Spinning the pot circulated the water in the bowl, so hot water from next to the pot was quickly exchanged with cooler water).

I haven’t bothered with photos for the rest. I coarsely chopped the vegetables and herbs with the chopping attachment to a hand blender, set at lowest power, and added them to the pot. I added the brine from the bag of pickles and the dairy products. The result was not beautiful (though the liquid has a pink color very unusual for food), but after a couple hours of refrigeration it was delicious.

• They actually know how to make coffee. Don’t laugh. Those of you who do not live in Prague may not appreciate how rare this is.
• They have excellent light meals. Soups, salads, sandwiches, and quiches are fresh and tasty.
• Friendly, long-term, loyal staff, with the owners working shifts.
• A solid group of regulars.

This adds up to a very pleasant atmosphere in which to lose oneself for some hours. Physically, the cafe is very nice, too, though arguably it could use some more soft couches and fewer wooden chairs.

Breakfast is available all day and includes the usual suspects, plus pancakes (Czech raised pancakes, livanecky, not flat crepes) and a very popular breakfast sandwich of egg, bacon, cheese, lettuce, and tomato, on a ciabatta.

The lunch menu includes three daily specials, of which one is a vegetarian entrée and another is a salad. There’s also a lunch special of small soup plus sandwich, Quiche, or small salad, for 100 kc. Of their various sandwiches, the roast beef really stands out. I have no idea where they source the roast beef from, but it’s cooked medium, sliced very thinly, extremely tender, and extraordinarily free (for Czech beef) of fat and connective tissue. The sandwich comes with garlic mayo, cucumber, tomato, and red onion and is served on a ciabatta. The roast beef is also available as a platter.

Speaking of their soup, it isn’t interesting every day, but when it’s good, it’s very good. Here is a bowl of potato and garlic soup with blue cheese croutons, presented with Press’ typical care.

Press now has a dinner menu, more or less in beta stage at this time. Most of the items used to be available all day, but caused a bottleneck in the kitchen when ordered during lunch rush. The menu has a Mexican section, ranging 125-150 crowns, including a quesadilla with either chicken or spinach and a burrito with both.  The quesadillas and burritos are always properly toasted and contain fully melted cheese. The salsa is fresh and simple, just chopped tomatoes with some onion and garlic and a touch of cilantro.  I’m a sucker for the chicken quesadilla, myself.

Outside the Mexican section, you can have a meal salad for 105kc. Choices are Caesar, Roast Beef, or Goat Cheese. The basis of all 3 are a mix of iceberg and Romaine, which I find balances flavor and crispness nicely. The Caesar has grilled chicken instead of a hard-boiled egg, this being Prague, but there’s identifiable anchovy in the dressing, and it comes with bacon, Parmesan, and croutons. The roast beef salad has the house’s own vinaigrette dressing and is made with the same excellent roast beef as the sandwich.  The goat cheese salad includes green beans and black olives. All salads are dinner plate sized, always fresh, and quite flavorful.

Press Cafe has recently introduced 3 grilled entrees for dinner. Patrik in the kitchen is a fine grill chef and these new entrees let him strut his stuff. Entree #1 is a hamburger. I like it very much, but folks who like lots of toppings may not. I prefer my hamburgers to be relatively simple and to taste mostly of beef. This is a simple 200g patty, grilled to medium, and served on a toasted ciabatta with some rucola and grain mustard. I’m sure they’d add more stuff  if you asked. The burger comes with a side of higher-end frozen frites, which will be replaced when they get a deep frier. Entree #2 is a grilled duck breast with caramelized red onion and mashed potatoes, for 165kc. This is an amazing dish and even more so for the price.  As I said, Patrik knows his grill, and the duck is perfectly medium, not dried out at all. Press’ mash has garlic in it and is quite yummy.  And the caramelized onions…well, they’re caramelized red onions. Can’t really go wrong there, except by stinting on them, which Press does not.

Oh, there’s also a pork chop as entree #3, and I’m told it’s very good, but it would mean not ordering the duck.

Press Cafe also does Sunday brunch, with a unique take. You order 4-7 items off a menu of small dishes. Half the items you order may be meat. If you go for the big 7, you get free pancakes for dessert. Aubergine and I usually split a 6 or 7. Highlights of the brunch menu include roasted goat cheese in foil, chicken quesadilla and roast beef from their regular menu, and the closest thing to Linconlshire sausage I’ve had in a Prague restaurant. Plump sausages containing actual sage. Amazing.

What else? There’s wifi, of course, but they’re in thrall to O2, so it’s not very reliable. Still, I’m posting this from there. There are special children’s days on occasional Saturdays, which we avoid. There’s fresh orange juice, a special coffee in their second grinder (vs Vescovi as the normal), and a surprising range of rums. Beer is Pilzner Urquell, reasonably well-kept. House wine is sometimes good but last time I had the red it was rather awful; still, they have some respectable vintages in bottles. It’s a pleasant place to while away the afternoon, working on your laptop and posting to the Internet when the connection’s working.

Last point: if you live in Prague, you may want to follow Press Cafe 1911′s Facebook page.