"The Sophienkeller, located in the catacombs of the baroque Taschenbergpalais, is rather a tourist establishment, because a gastronomic. In any case, my conclusion after an exciting evening during this year's college trip to Dresden. The cellar restaurant with the numerous, historically designed thematic areas lapidar to be called “Nepp” or “Touri-Falle” would be considered too undifferentiated. Even if the drinks and food prices as well as the quality of the food would have suggested this. This evening we were concerned with the overall package, which is why we had booked the “Kurfürstentafel” for 37 euros per person for our 50-person travel group in advance. And so we were looking forward to the joint evening meal in the group of colleges, like August the Starke, for his time shark lust camp. Whether “Alchimistenschmaus” or “Dresdner Trichtersaufen” (Dresdner Trichtersaufen), each target group seems to find its suitable gastro event. Some buffet offers and menu suggestions are especially available for larger companies. Authentic costumed “artist folk” ensures the cultural and musical framework and knows how to entertain guests in a professional way. And all of this in a building that swept away from 1945 to 1992, almost half a century, as a ruin. From August to the Strong, the Pocket Mountain Palace at the glory of Dresdner Barock (beginning of the 18th Centuries of his marital Constantia of Cosel, we should hear so much about this evening as this most dazzling figure of polite splendour in meat and blood, or with wig and court costume our company entertained with funny anecdotes, schelmic narratives and sober stories. The absoluteist heavier was eloquently equipped with the necessary background knowledge about our home region. His professional appearance was well placed between the hot main dishes from the buffet and the sweet finish. The actor had internalized his role and made for general redemption. But the real highlight of the cultural programme was two court musicians. Ms Baldegunde, who with her sounds the top hits of the early 18th The trumpet was supported by a man. Both, of course, in polite playman costume. When the string instrument was passed on to a full-blooded musician from the Palatinate, this had tremendous effects. The Saxon Baroque cellar immediately became a Hort Pfälzer dialect. This would have been an honor for the strong August, which the “Tramps vun de Palz” slept. Only so much is said: the musical performance was really good at our travel group. By the way, much better than the Kurfürstentafel offered in buffet form. From left to right stood in warm-keeping containers: cheese-wine with burgundy grapes, sour wort, roasted lumps, chicken medallions baked with peach and cheese, zanderfilet on carrot-fried vegetables and salt potatoes. The culinary exclamation of the evening, however, came freshly disassembled on the plates: the juicy crispy spearhead, cut directly from the spits. Together with the dark jus from the copper kettle, the best thing that landed on my plate this evening. Unfortunately, the brown meat essence in the second infusion came somewhat too stretched into the pot and no longer had the initial taste depth. The chicken medallions were too dry (typically for poultry in the warming box! , the Zander had got a little too much salt spice and the Sauerkraut tasted a trace too sweet. The latter is served much more tasty in each Palatinate forest hut. The brown sauce did good to the fried, slightly taste-poor potato rags. Together with the delicately seasoned, refreshed skin from the sprinkler and its juicy flesh, this was a rustically defensive combination that dragged me the one or the other passage to the warmth or to the piglet skewer. And that's exactly what I don't like at the buffet. In total one or two times goes to the silver lining troughs. When trying to catch anything, you often combine food that doesn't really fit one another or harmonize it on the plate. On that evening I left the cold appetizer plates (cass selection, ham variations and a few salads, which were in the forefront of their consumption, lying on the left and focused on the essentials: the juice sow from the spit. The cute meat cutter with the sharp blade grinned every time he was allowed to cheer me an extra **** from the crawling fercle skin. In the Dresdner Neustadt, which had the effects of potted cold drinks from the “Böhmisch Brauhaus” and “Krusovice” brands on the human organism, the aftermaths of the evening or morning beforehand prevented the normally customary wine correspondence. So I didn't even take a look at the spiritual treasure chest of the Sophienkeller. At the touristic prices for the mineral water (the bottle for proud 6,10 euros), this was perhaps better. The next morning there was a detour to the neighbouring Elbsandstein mountains. And a clear head hasn't hurt any climber. From the dessert offer I enjoyed a few pieces of watermelon against the season as well as the “Mousse to Laune der Hofköche”. Man, they must have been bad on that night. Fun aside, the overcrowded crème was nothing special, but still in a edible setting. The 37 Euro buffet breakfast was certainly too high for the bid. But in view of the “other achievements” that we were offered to the strong and his court musician around the Kurfürstentafel of August, this certainly went ok. Female and singing have always been the cost. Not only in the Baroque Dresden of the early 18th Century. If it hit me again in the Sophienkeller, I'd rather be a gracious situation in the theme room “Zeithainer Lustlager” with Prussian pavilion and a bad gallery, which spans more than 150 people, because the sticky-poor atmosphere in our department of the vaulted cellar was already marginal. Then, however, the Radeberger should also flow into streams and the Spanferkel should be enjoyed sitting in the rotary carousel by the field kitchen. If so – because already."
Dresden
