5/5 Remy G. 4 years ago on Google • 3 reviews
Cafe
Zorik
has
now
become
a
second
home
to
me.
My
first
dining
experience
in
this
astoundingly
cozy
spot
was
the
winter
of
2017,
a
bright
and
crisp
day
with
only
a
few
clouds
scattered
in
the
sky.
I
have
always
been
a
big
fan
of
schnitzel,
but
my
first
time
there
I
actually
ordered
the
hamburger,
which
was
certainly
no
mistake.
The
hamburger
was
juicy,
tender,
and
well
seasoned,
with
the
perfect
lettuce
tomato
onion
and
pickle
ratio.
The
French
fries
were
phenomenally
salted
shoe-strings,
almost
McDonald's-esque.
The
service
was
pretty
attentive
and
good
for
being
so
packed,
and
they
even
brought
a
bowl
of
water
out
for
my
friend's
adorable
pooch
(shout
out
to
Nandi
the
viszla).
My
next
time
eating
at
this
fine
establishment
I
ordered
the
holy
grail,
the
pièce
de
résistance,
the
culinary
magnum
opus,
the
poultry
perfection,
the
saintly
schnitzel.
The
day
started
as
any
other
day:
I
woke
up,
brushed
my
teeth,
showered
and
questioned
my
existence,
and
decided
I
would
go
drown
my
sorrows
not
in
alcohol,
but
food.
So
I
sauntered
on
down
to
Zorik,
sat
down
with
a
few
friends,
and
decided
I'd
order
that
juicy
bird.
When
the
waitress
arrived
with
an
enormous
plate
in
hand,
I
was
a
bit
shocked.
My
brain
couldn't
exactly
comprehend
what
was
happening
and
I
had
assumed
this
wasn't
my
dish
at
all.
After
already
having
made
eye
contact
with
the
waitress,
I
decided
to
break
off
and
began
a
conversation
with
my
friend
to
avoid
the
embarrassment
of
the
false
excitement
for
a
dish
that
was
not
mine.
Alas,
the
dish
was
mine,
and
I
continued
to
speak
over
the
waitress
and
ignore
her
as
she
attempted
to
place
the
plate
in
front
of
me.
I
then
realized
that
this
is,
in
fact,
my
order,
and
accepted
it
graciously
with
an
awkward
"ah
thank
you,
bon
Appétit"
directed
at
the
space
to
the
right
of
the
waitress.
The
plate
was
beautifully
arranged,
with
a
massive
schnitzel
sleeping
soundly
next
to
a
bed
of
wonderful
shoe-string
French
fries,
and
on
my
friend's
plate,
resting
peacefully
aside
a
smooth
wave
of
buttery
mashed
potatoes.
Little
bowls
of
Coleslaw,
pickles,
and
ketchup
adorned
the
remaining
space
on
the
plate,
and
the
schnitzel
wore
a
lemon
wedge
hat.
With
the
first
squeeze
of
lemon
came
a
searing
pain
in
my
eye.
I'd
inadvertently
squirted
lemon
juice
into
it
from
all
the
excitement.
I
gave
up
on
the
lemon
after
that
and
began
to
tuck
in.
The
first
bite...
Crispy,
salty,
juicy,
the
perfectly
prepared
schnitzel.
The
pickles...
Sweet
and
a
wonderfully
tangy
palette
cleanser.
The
coleslaw..
Creamy
and
refreshing.
I
was
in
heaven.
Elated
with
joy
and
pleasure,
having
my
own
foodgasm
in
the
public
area
and
not
giving
a
single
damn.
And
that's
just
the
schnitzel.
Let's
talk
about
pancakes,
shall
we?
Massive
and
perfectly
circular.
Drizzled
with
a
beautiful
berry
compote
and
a
fantastically
paired
mascarpone
dolloped
next
to
it.
The
pancakes
were
moist
and
buttery
and
just
oh
so
delicious.
My
words
are
failing
me
at
this
very
moment.
The
mascarpone
you
could
eat
by
itself.
But
when
paired
with
the
berries,
the
pancake,
and
some
syrup
just
for
a
bit
of
extra
sweetness,
something
changes
in
the
air.
Everything
freezes
and
fades
away.
Suddenly
it's
just
you,
sitting
there,
and
a
plate
of
dreams
looking
right
through
you
and
making
you
feel
better
than
anyone
or
anything
in
the
whole
world.
The
fork
seems
to
float
by
itself
and
transport
little
boats
of
mascarpone
and
berries
to
your
mouth.
The
knife
cuts
perfect
triangular
pieces
of
pancake
and
smears
that
wonderful
cream
on
top.
In
the
end
I
can't
remember
if
I
spilled
that
mascarpone
on
my
pants
or...
This
place
is
my
life.
All
in
all
great
experience.
Highly
recommend!
6 people found this review helpful 👍
