Von Westernhagen's |
|
| 71-28 Cooper Ave. | |
| Glendale, NY 11385 | |
| 718-821-8401 | |
|
Hours:
Tuesday to Sunday for lunch and dinner. Closed Monday. | |
GERMAN. Homestyle German cooking has endured
three decades of assault from squeeze bottles, sauce
reductions, ever-growing lemongrass and the rising tide
of extra-virgin olive oil.
In Glendale, where change occurs at the pace of Wagnerian opera, a cluster of German eateries has held fast, each sticking to its sauerkraut. The unofficial autobahn of Queens winds along avenues Myrtle, Metropolitan and Cooper.
Von Westernhagen's, established in the year of "My Fair Lady" vs. "Dr. Strangelove," Ken Boyer vs. Clete Boyer, and Johnson vs. Goldwater, is one of the elders.
Actually, there are moments when the eatery seems older than its age. The restaurant operates, indifferent to the calendar, with friendly service and without pretense. Trends are merely interruptions to be observed from afar.
The decor marries exposed brick and half-timber, captain's chairs and kitschy portraits. The napkins are paper. The flowers are fake. The food is real.
Von Westernhagen's is the sort of place where you could have sliced bratwurst as an appetizer, and then contentedly add on a few more sausages to compose your main course. Nobody would give a schnitzel.
There is a rather spare section of the menu devoted to seafood, but it won't transport you to Schleswig-Holstein. Von Westernhagen's heart doesn't stray from the most identifiable image of Teutonic cookery. It's about meat and potatoes.
You have a pretty good idea about what you'll be eating and drinking before entering the establishment. The beer signs illuminate the night. Lists on blackboard and paper note specials.
That beginning of grilled bratwurst is very good: well-seasoned, crackling, served with mustard not meant for cocktail franks. Tart, bracing ochsenmaul, or beef muzzle, salad, opens the appetite.
These are preferable to a quartet of modestly sized shrimp perched on a cup, surrounding the obligatory cocktail sauce. Von Westernhagen's isn't the ideal locale to order baked clams.
If you want a seaside starter, try the saline, satisfying herring with cream and onions, which materializes on chopped iceberg lettuce. Try herring in any guise here. In case all this is moving you far afield, they also offer a fruit cup. The daily soup is skippable.
The combination platter of veal and pork sausages, surrounded by crusty home fries and paired with red cabbage or sauerkraut, should take care of your hunger for today and tomorrow.
In the German repertoire, sauerbraten is almost as essential as Goethe. The production at Von Westernhagen's downplays the tang of the traditional marinade. It's a polite presentation of flaky beef with a mild-unto-neutral, earth-tone sauce, and no hint of vinegar. The baseball-size dumpling makes it over the plate like a hard slider.
Smoked pork chops are tender and to the point, set on a mound of mellow sauerkraut. One of the regular specials, pigs' knuckles with sauerkraut, is moist, blunt stuff. For a subtler alternative, sample the fresh ham.
Wiener rostbraten, however, is chewy: a big, bone-in steak under a mantle of fried onions. And there's some resistance in the schnitzel Holstein: a thick veal cutlet, breaded, pan-fried, and capped with a fried egg, capers and anchovies. The unadorned porterhouse and filet mignon provide competition.
A mug of Spaten or a glass of the cloudy wheat beer, Franziskaner, would be just right at this juncture, and doubtless before it.
Desserts aren't mandatory. Apple strudel and cherry-cheese strudel are limp; tapioca and chocolate pudding, more likely to please.
You'll leave very full.
In Glendale, where change occurs at the pace of Wagnerian opera, a cluster of German eateries has held fast, each sticking to its sauerkraut. The unofficial autobahn of Queens winds along avenues Myrtle, Metropolitan and Cooper.
Von Westernhagen's, established in the year of "My Fair Lady" vs. "Dr. Strangelove," Ken Boyer vs. Clete Boyer, and Johnson vs. Goldwater, is one of the elders.
Actually, there are moments when the eatery seems older than its age. The restaurant operates, indifferent to the calendar, with friendly service and without pretense. Trends are merely interruptions to be observed from afar.
The decor marries exposed brick and half-timber, captain's chairs and kitschy portraits. The napkins are paper. The flowers are fake. The food is real.
Von Westernhagen's is the sort of place where you could have sliced bratwurst as an appetizer, and then contentedly add on a few more sausages to compose your main course. Nobody would give a schnitzel.
There is a rather spare section of the menu devoted to seafood, but it won't transport you to Schleswig-Holstein. Von Westernhagen's heart doesn't stray from the most identifiable image of Teutonic cookery. It's about meat and potatoes.
You have a pretty good idea about what you'll be eating and drinking before entering the establishment. The beer signs illuminate the night. Lists on blackboard and paper note specials.
That beginning of grilled bratwurst is very good: well-seasoned, crackling, served with mustard not meant for cocktail franks. Tart, bracing ochsenmaul, or beef muzzle, salad, opens the appetite.
These are preferable to a quartet of modestly sized shrimp perched on a cup, surrounding the obligatory cocktail sauce. Von Westernhagen's isn't the ideal locale to order baked clams.
If you want a seaside starter, try the saline, satisfying herring with cream and onions, which materializes on chopped iceberg lettuce. Try herring in any guise here. In case all this is moving you far afield, they also offer a fruit cup. The daily soup is skippable.
The combination platter of veal and pork sausages, surrounded by crusty home fries and paired with red cabbage or sauerkraut, should take care of your hunger for today and tomorrow.
In the German repertoire, sauerbraten is almost as essential as Goethe. The production at Von Westernhagen's downplays the tang of the traditional marinade. It's a polite presentation of flaky beef with a mild-unto-neutral, earth-tone sauce, and no hint of vinegar. The baseball-size dumpling makes it over the plate like a hard slider.
Smoked pork chops are tender and to the point, set on a mound of mellow sauerkraut. One of the regular specials, pigs' knuckles with sauerkraut, is moist, blunt stuff. For a subtler alternative, sample the fresh ham.
Wiener rostbraten, however, is chewy: a big, bone-in steak under a mantle of fried onions. And there's some resistance in the schnitzel Holstein: a thick veal cutlet, breaded, pan-fried, and capped with a fried egg, capers and anchovies. The unadorned porterhouse and filet mignon provide competition.
A mug of Spaten or a glass of the cloudy wheat beer, Franziskaner, would be just right at this juncture, and doubtless before it.
Desserts aren't mandatory. Apple strudel and cherry-cheese strudel are limp; tapioca and chocolate pudding, more likely to please.
You'll leave very full.
Reviewed by Peter M. Gianotti
11/04/01
