This morning I could still enjoy a view of Grossglockner from my hotel’s balcony. This evening, I have been cycling for almost an hour to reach the distant suburb of Vienna where Flokal – a restaurant previously unknown to me – is located. I cannot really complain that my life is dull.
I wish I could say the same about Flokal’s spare ribs. They might look appetizing on the photo, but once you bite into them, you will recognize hundreds of other similar ribs you have eaten before. If eating spare ribs were a war, eating Flokal’s ribs could be compared to a senseless massacre. No matter how blood-thirsty a commander is, when the enemy soldiers approach one after the other presenting no resistance whatsoever and seemingly happy to be slaughtered, sooner or later the commander will turn around and possibly become a pacifist.
The ribs are OK, in a way: well-cooked, easy to cut and not containing any surprises like small sharp bones, but by God, they are boring. Rather flavorless by themselves, they reap all their taste from the two sauces, which must be homemade and delicately pleasant for a while until the novelty wears off. Which happens, like, after the third rib.
I guess if one catches COVID, loses all the taste but still desires to fill one’s stomach, the big portion of Flokal’s ribs will to the job. Unfortunately (or rather fortunately), the restaurant is quite strict at following the rules, so one will not be able to get a table without a negative test.
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