Ein grosser Brauner, Bitte

Legend has it that coffee came to Vienna in 1683 with the besieging army of the Ottoman Empire. When the siege was repelled by Polish soldiers in the command of King Jan Sobieski III, one of the officers wound up with some sacks of strange green beans. The officer Kulczycki (Kolschitzky in German) decided that this ‘camel feed’ was fit to be brewed for human consumption and from that moment Vienna went on to become the hub of a new Central European tradition of coffee consumption.

Even though this is far from the accepted factual version of events, coffeehouses in Vienna often perpetuated the legend by prominently displaying Kulczycki’s portrait. Coffee was already making its way into Europe well before the 1680s, and it’s most likely that the Venetians were the first to bring it back from Africa, and the earliest known coffee house was opened in Italy in 1645.

While not the oldest, Vienna’s coffee tradition is among Europe's most robust and probably it's most pleasant. Despite the palatial premises and tuxedo-clad waiters of traditional Viennese coffee houses, they are democratic, egalitarian places, and the scruffiest patrons are treated as respectfully as any lawyer, doctor, or politician. In the ritzier establishments, you’ll be seated on an antique sofa at a marble-topped table and peruse the leather bound menu by the light of a chandelier. The coffee often arrives on a silver platter in a porcelain cup and the most skillful waiters manage to carry it with the sugar spoon resting gently on the rim of the accompanying glass of water.

Unlike some coffeehouse cultures (the fast-food-have-a-nice-day of contemporary franchises or the café-pitstop-for-fuel speediness of Italy) the Viennese coffeehouse is a place to linger, relax, and reflect. Patrons can often be seen reading, writing, or practicing the art of conversation, and many coffeehouses encourage pastimes such as chess or billiards. There are always international newspapers (sometimes in their dozens) available; and no matter how small your order, a waiter will never hurry you to leave.

Quick Tips:

For smoothness of ordering, it’s good to know some of the terminology applied to different preparations of coffee in Vienna. A Kleiner Brauner is a small coffee with just a hint of milk. A Grosser Brauner is a larger cup of the same, and seems to be the standard everyday way to prepare a coffee here. I’d call it a macchiato, but some of the neighbouring countries call it simply a Viennese coffee (Videnska Kava). The Brauners weren’t milky enough for me, so I took to ordering a Melange, which had extra milk, sometimes with a crema like a flat white, and sometimes with a frothy head like a cappuccino. Mokka is coffee without milk and an Einspanner has whipped cream (schlagobers) instead of milk. You might also hear the word Schanigarten, which is the outdoor area of the coffeehouse, where chairs and tables are set up on the sidewalk.

Vienna Tourist Information publishes a handy brochure dedicated to coffee houses in Vienna. I picked one up at Hostel Ruthensteiner where I was staying, and the owners were good enough to recommend some of their personal favourites. The brochure lists the address and details of more than a hundred coffee houses, and highlights about twenty of those with photographs and a descriptive paragraph. To my mind, this highlighting didn’t necessarily imply a better coffeehouse, and in fact a couple of those featured (namely the Pruckel and the Landtmann) I didn’t like much at all, whereas one of my favourites, the Hawelka, was banished to the bottom of one of the small-print back pages.

Best Way To Get Around:

Vienna has an excellent system of public transport, comprising an underground railway system, streetcars, and buses. Tickets are available at the major stops including the underground rail terminals at Sudbahnhof (south train station), Westbahnhof (west train station) and the airport. The bright red ticket machines can be simply switched to operate in German, English, French, or Italian and they accept coins and notes up to the value of 10 euros and all major credit cards.

Single rides are 1.50 euros, but a 24 hour pass for unlimited travel is available for 5 euros. All tickets need to be validated as you enter the train or tram, but in the case of daily or weekly passes, just do it once at the beginning of your first ride.

If you happen to be like me and staying close to Westbahnhof, the U3 (orange) underground line takes you right to the centre. Stephensplatz is the stop for St Stephen’s cathedral and the most central cafes, while getting off at Volkstheater brings you up in the museum quarter, beside the ring road. Usually called simply The Ring, this road circumnavigates the oldest part of Vienna and along with many of the city’s most impressive buildings and monuments, several of the most notable cafes line its sides. Tram/streetcar #1 circles endlessly around the ring in a clockwise direction, while tram #2 follows the same route but in the opposite direction. A complete loop on one of these routes is great way to get a quick overview of some of Vienna’s major sights and is also very useful if you’re hopping from café to café.

Sacher Torte - A moist chocolate cake with chocolate icing and a thin spread of bitter marmalade between the layers. I’ve always liked it and it would have been little short of blasphemous to come to Vienna and not try the delicacy in its spiritual home.

Sacher Torte came into existence in 1832 when a prominent Vienna hotel requested that its kitchen come up with an original dessert. The head chef was off work ill and it was left to the 16 year old apprentice Franz Sacher to fulfill the challenge. The recipe that he came up with is still used today, and the café’s menu claims that it’s ‘the most famous cake in the world’. They might just be right.

Even though the cafe is in the same building as Hotel Sacher, it has a separate entrance; the one without a doorman in a top hat. As you enter Café Sacher’s richly decorated foyer you’ll see a brass sign that asks you to wait to be seated. At the tables the menus hang on small stands and offer several types of coffee, quite a few desserts and a selection of main meals. For me it had to be a coffee and slice of the famous cake and I explained as much to the pleasant man in a bow tie and waistcoat who came to my table and enquired as to what it was that I wished, Sir.

When the thick slice of original Sacher torte arrived at the table it soon became apparent that a pilgrimage to the Café Sacher was well worthwhile. I’d read somewhere not to bother because the same dish in other cafes was less expensive and just as good, but with that advice I must beg to differ. The icing was thicker and richer than I’ve tasted anywhere else, the cake itself was wonderfully fresh (no doubt as a result of the sheer number of other pilgrims ordering the same thing each day) and the spread of marmalade added the perfect amount of bitterness. Now some may think I was caught up in the moment and for psychological reasons the cake tasted better then elsewhere, but to that I say "So what?" Going for coffee and cake is as much about the experience as the taste and nowhere is that more apparent than in the traditional old coffee houses of Vienna.

The sumptuous rooms of the cafe roll out the red carpets and the hotel’s insignia, a cursive ‘S’ in a shield of elaborate scrolls, is emblazoned across everything from the windows and upholstery to the silverware and porcelain. Brass railings, thick bevel-edged mirrors, textured wallpaper and bejewelled chandeliers complete the interior and the result is almost enough to transport you back to the grandeur and sophistication of Vienna’s heyday as the cultural capital of central Europe.

Cafe Hawelka is little short of legendary among the traditional coffee houses of Vienna.

Before I went there I’d read about Leopold and Josephine Hawelka and how they ran their café together for 66 years until Josephine passed away at the age of 92. Josephine was said to be particularly proud of the marriages that she’d helped bring about by sitting lone patrons of opposite genders at the same table. I’d read that Leopold still spends time in the cafe, even occasionally posing for photographs with tourists bold enough to ask. He wasn’t there when I visited, but after 70-odd years he deserves as much time off as he wants.

I was expecting lots of old wooden furniture, darkened through years of use, and a careworn but elegant suggestion of gentlemanly decades long past. And that was pretty much what I found. The first thing you see upon entry is a table with about a dozen newspapers on racks, and behind that the café spreads out with marble-topped tables, wooden chairs and antique sofas with deep red striped upholstery. Some of the sofas are arranged to make four booths under the windows and these seemed to be the most sought after seats. I took a small round table along the side wall that was covered in posters for concerts, exhibitions and other cultural events. The main thing that surprised me about the cafe was that there was much less cigarette smoke than I was expecting (for me, a positive).

The tuxedo-clad waiter was very good at his job. In my case he allowed me just long enough to decide what I wanted and was just as timely in delivering it to the table. When I pulled out a pen and paper and started to write he graciously leaned over and flicked on the overhead light that I hadn’t noticed on the wall above. He was equally welcoming to everybody, whether they were regulars in suits and ties or scruffy out-of-town types in jeans, hiking-boots and odd socks.

Being just a few steps along a side street leading from Stephansplatz (the main square at the centre of the old town), Café Hawelka couldn’t have been easier to find. Given the central location and their enormous reputation, it’s actually quite remarkable that it retains the feel of being an authentic locals’ place. While I was there, I was snapping photos (discreetly I hope) and gazing around and there were several other people who obviously weren’t natives of Vienna who were doing the same thing, but we were in the minority. Most of the patrons seemed like regular coffeehouse-goers, following a tradition no doubt enjoyed by their parents and grandparents before them. Ernst Fuchs and Friedensreich Hundertwasser are said to have been among the café’s regulars and it’s not hard to imagine the same café existing back in the 1930s.

And what a glorious time that must have been if the Hawelka is anything to go by!

No exploration of Vienna’s coffee houses is complete without mentioning Café Central. Famous as the haunt of such historical figures as Trotsky, the central today is a pilgrimage shrine to the opulent café culture of the Habsburg Empire’s dying days.

The architecture of the place hits you as soon as you walk through the door. A copse of marble columns supports graceful arches from whose peaks hang filigree brass light fittings with smoked glass shades like exotic and majestic fruits fit for the emperors themselves. Low upholstered benches surround the walls; tables and chairs occupy the centre and the multitude of free-standing wooden coat racks sprout and shed their plumage with the coming and going of the patrons. It’s not necessary to wait to be seated, but if you hover near the entrance long enough a waiter will help you find a table to your liking.

On my initial circumnavigation of the cafe, I passed the cake stand over by the left-hand wall and after a long and difficult deliberation, decided on the Truffeltorte. One last windowside bench was free and I settled myself into the deep upholstery to wait for a waiter to flit over and take my order away to the kitchen. When the cake arrived it was as good as I’d hoped and the coffee wasn’t bad either. The cake was 3.70 euros and the melange was 3.50. The menu also offered a wide range of meals up to around 15 euros, but the ones that caught my eye were the weekday lunch specials from 7.50. As it was a Sunday morning I had no chance to try them out, but I made a mental note that if I ever wanted to have a really nice meal in Vienna without paying exorbitantly, then it might be worth returning to the Central to investigate further.

Due to the prominence and fame of Cafe Central, it perhaps lacks some of the atmosphere of an ‘authentic’ Vienna coffee house, but the bright side is that, as a tourist, you will be more than welcome, and you don’t have to worry that you’re intruding into a "locals' place". Unless, of course, you are the Spanish or Italian lady who sat down at the next table and after about three minutes, screamed in outraged English at a passing waiter "eh, we sit here already one hour", in which case you should be embarrassed to go out in a polite and cultured society at all.

The grand piano that lurks among the coat racks is apparently played each afternoon and provided you have time to also go to one of the more ‘authentic’ Viennese coffee houses, then a pilgrimage to Café Central to sit where Trotsky sat and ponder the influence of caffeine on some of Freud’s theories is a memorable part of any visit to Vienna.

Café Schwarzenberg is the oldest of the cafés on Vienna’s inner ring road and the wonderful location certainly makes it seem as if they had first choice.

The Ring is Vienna’s equivalent of a High Street or Main Street address and, on a corner opposite Schwarzenbergplatz, this café has prime position. The front windows offer a view of the Schwarzenberg palace, the equestrian statue of Lord Schwarzenberg himself, and the dome and towers of the Karlskirche. The tables and chairs on either side of the entrance door were packed up on the day that I visited, but when open it must be one of the few Schanigarten whose surroundings are as striking as the interior of the coffee house to which it belongs.

Café Schwarzenberg has a good dedicated non-smoking room, and that was where I sat. The walls were covered with huge slabs of marble and bevelled mirrors, the tables were brass and the seats were thickly upholstered in luxurious deep brown leather. The non-smoking area was not huge, but the mirrors on every wall made it seem like the audience room of a great baroque palace. There were even thin strips of mirror cut to line the inside of the window arches which, if you find yourself with some time while waiting for your order, break the room into dozens of disjointed segments whose arrangement defies logic.

Or perhaps I just didn’t have enough time make sense of it before my coffee and cake arrived. Having had good luck at the Sperl I tried again asking which cake was the specialty of the house, and the answer was… Sacher Torte. I guess I was anticipating something different, but never mind, if that’s the specialty, then that’s what I’m having. And it wasn’t bad. Trying to be as objective as possible though, and adjusting for the romance of having had Sacher Torte at Café Sacher, I still think its better over there. The torte at the Schwarzenberg was good, but not remarkable. The coffee on the other hand, I would have to describe as better than average.

Despite pretty good coffee and reasonable cake, somehow the Schwarzenberg left me feeling a little cold. Perhaps it was just the lack of wood in the decor, or maybe it was because I overheard one of the tuxedo-ed waiters explaining to a patron that service was not included in the bill, even though they hadn’t asked (the only time I witnessed anything that even approached bad manners in a Viennese coffee house). There was no similar hint when I asked to pay, so I tipped as usual by rounding up to the nearest whole figure, thus adding between five and ten percent.

Café Schwarzenberg is not top of my list of coffee houses to return to, but if it’s sunny next time I’m in Vienna you might just find me taking in the view from one of the outdoor seats. And yes, of course you’ll be welcome to join me…

Café Sperl is the kind of place I had hoped to find when I began exploring Vienna’s coffee houses - somewhere with excellent coffee, good service, lavish cakes, and a little of the atmosphere of the old imperial Vienna of a century ago.

The Sperl was the only café recommended by all four of my sources of information (Internet, guidebook, tourist info, and local friends), so after a morning of rummaging around the flea market stalls, my pal Ezra and I walked from the Naschmarkt across to Gumpendorfer Strasse and easily found the Sperl with the help of its buttercup yellow exterior and the obligatory black and gold glass signs on either side of the door.

The café is L-shaped and the short entrance hall leading in from the point of the L deposits you in front of the marble bench-top of the main counter. We hesitated there for a moment unsure if we should wait to be seated, but as the staff didn’t seem especially bothered by us, we looked around for a vacant table. Our choice was between the right, and the arm of the L that held the billiard tables, or left where there were a row of upholstered booths along each side of the room and small round tables filling the place in the centre. Choosing the left also allowed us to hover around and inspect the cake cabinet on the way to our table.

The booths were all taken, so we settled for a small table in the centre and very shortly after taking our seats, the waitress was with us to take our orders. We both ordered coffees and Ezra asked for an apple strudel. The cakes cabinet had thrown me into confusion, so I resorted to asking if the café had a specialty dessert. I have no idea the name of the slice that was recommended, but I went ahead and ordered it anyway, which was the right decision as it turned out to be delicious. I’ve never had slice quite like it actually; it was about half an inch thick and two and a half or three inches square, with several different layers and a vaguely rummy taste. The layers looked like dense chocolate cake but had a different flavour that I couldn’t pick and there was a wafer thin layer of something on top that looked like icing, but tasted like pastry and broke into flakes when touched with a fork. Intriguing-perhaps further investigation is in order.

I’d be happy for a reason to make another visit, as the Sperl is one of the two cafes (along with Café Hawelka) that I’m most enthusiastic about returning to in the future. The warm and welcoming browns and burgundies of the comfortable interior, the unhurried and unspoiled atmosphere and of course the mystery cake were the silver lining on a cloudy Vienna winter’s day.