 Alex is editor of the In Your Pocket guides in Poland and has written for The Guardian, The Times and The Observer.
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Warsaw's Commie Side Sunday 4th July, 2010
"we found ourselves seated inside, directed to our table by a pert little commie dressed for a May Day parade"
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I drink cider for breakfast and have a cat called Churchill – that’s as English as they come, so
seeing England tanked out of the World Cup by ze wicked Germans has come as a right kick
in the jaffas. Even so, what should have been a gloomy week has ended on a high and that’s
largely thanks to a long-overdue return trip to Oberza Pod Czerwonym Wieprzem. Went there
last night with Mr and Mrs Drax, and the morning after I’m still struggling to fit through my
door.
Now the story to this place (lets call it Red Pig, its simplified English name), is a good one;
back in 2006 workers uncovered a secret basement packed with keepsakes, notebooks and
menus, as well as a host of other clues indicating this was once the top-secret meeting point
for all the big hitters in the socialist world.
Not ones to let an opportunity slip, the Poles decided to preserve this piece of history and turn it into a restaurant. The story is, of course, a load of rubbish, no more than the product of a fertile imagination, but don’t let that deter your visit; this venue is great, and more than welcome in a city surprisingly low on Ost-algia.
There was no outdoor seating when we bowled up, but that turned out to be a blessing in
disguise – the crossroads of Zelazna aren’t exactly the Serengeti, so the view of traffic lights
and tramps wasn’t exactly missed. Instead we found ourselves seated inside, directed to our
table by a pert little commie dressed for a May Day parade.
Decorated with red banners and paintings of communist comrades this wood-heavy place certainly looks the deal, but unlike other gimmick restaurants Red Pig does something very unorthodox – it proves not just fun to
look at, but truly enjoyable to eat in.
The menu is a bit of a hoot (available to purchase for twenty zlots, a lot less if you’re an
able-handed klepto), and aside from detailing the fantasy history lists items like Brezhnev
Dumplings and Activists Lard. I under-estimated the portions, so by the time I had finished
my Work Leader’s Beetroot soup I was already fiddling with the belt.
Fidel’s Cigars, a pair of sausages obliterated by tomato sauce, were a great follow-up, and my calorie count rounded off nicely by some iced shots of vodka. Not gourmet by any means, but not the hospital food
you find served in most tourist magnets; go there.
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