Traditional Letdown

The other day I asked AI about the percentage of Viennese that eat Martinigansl during the autumn season. The results, which the AI attributed to a survey by Wirtschaftskammer Wien, surprised me. Apparently, 80% of residents of Vienna treat themselves to a nice roasted goose. I guess, vegetarianism and veganism are not as spread in Vienna as their followers want others to believe. What is even more interesting, according to the same statistics, roughly 42% of Viennese consume more than one portion per season. Two portions seem to be a norm, with 8-10% eating three, 3-4% eating four, and 1-2% eating five or more portions.

Of course, I could not resist asking a follow-up question about the percentage of people who consume 15 portions, which is roughly my average. The answer was that although exact numbers are unavailable, statistically speaking, we are talking about less than 0.01% of Vienna’s population of two million. The AI concluded that the only people who can realistically hit double digits of goose portions are hospitality owners and chefs or professional food critics. Thanks for declaring me a professional, dear AI.

Anyway, the aim of this “research” was not to highlight the extent of my obsession (which is of no interest to anyone except, perhaps, my internist, but I’m not telling him), but to support the sad hypothesis that by limiting the number of geese they eat, people miss out a lot. Tradition-loving as most of them are, Viennese tend to visit the same restaurants over and over again and have a particularly soft spot for establishments close to their homes. For that reason, I feel really sorry for the residents of Ottakring (Vienna’s 16^th district) whose local eatery of choice is Nigls.

Mind you, Nigls is actually a really nice restaurant, a true traditional Beisl with a special atmosphere that is absent in more centrally located restaurants where tourists go. Nigls’ specialty is schnitzels, and I am sure it excels at them (a guy at the table next to mine, certainly a regular customer, was having a schnitzel, and it looked good). However, Nigls’ goose is a non-event. Though tender and reasonably big, the Gansl lacked love as much as it lacked salt. It had the right texture and not too much fat, but eating it was all about filling up the stomach and not about bringing pleasure. The red cabbage and the potato dumpling were a match for the goose: traditional, but not in a good sense. Read: boring.

It is as if the cook had been religiously following some century-old, simple and not very good recipe just because “it had always worked” without ever questioning why. And the answer to that question would be that as long as the people living nearby frequent and like the restaurant (and it is kind of likable), they will favor it over all the others when it comes to annual goose-eating family gatherings. They will even scowl at but eventually accept the price, which at 37 euros must look like a significant expenditure in this workers’ district. Nigls is a proof that ultimately “traditional” does not always equal “good.”