Keep the faith. Just a little flavour to get us started.
[Tomas greets me in Czech]
So, yes, that was Tomas. Greeting me at the front door of Bohemia House.
We’ll be getting back to him in due course. I got him off the leash. Got him to tell me the Tomas story. Which melds with the Bohemia House story. And it’s a good listen. So stand by.
But first a scene setter.
I’m really partial to the little pockets of elsewhere that are like flakes of gold in the London pan. Bohemia House is a perfect case in point. Really, there’s nowhere else like it. And I’m telling you right now, I like everything about it. There’s something sort of loose-fitting or ambling about it. And that appeals to me no end. Precisely because it’s so different from every other restaurant and pub in London. Its spaces – indeed, its very identity – none of that is sharply delineated at Bohemia. Every other bar and restaurant in London – and there are thousands of them – you know that’s what it is, you’re going into a bar or restaurant. Bohemia House? You’d be forgiven for being a little unsure about where you are. What is this place? What’s it all about? Is it sort of a museum? Is it someone’s big, handsome rambling house? Is it a restaurant? Is it a bar?
Is it a beer hall? What’s a beer hall? Is it some outfit’s rather eccentric clubhouse?
And for that matter, is it even now? Is it really 2026? Or did I just step through a time warp? Because this place sure feels like – and looks like – 1949. Or maybe 1955.
Or possibly 1946 if you go by what the banner out front proclaims. It says BEER HALL – BAR – RESTAURANT. Wonder if that sequence, that pecking order is getting the ducks – or do I mean geese – all in a row?
Certainly it doesn’t look like a bar or restaurant from the outside. The signage is casual, almost haphazard. Sort of makeshift. Looking over a tall hedge it plays peek-a-boo with you. And nailed to the mast, as it were, is not the name of the establishment or even the word Restaurant, nailed to the mast are a couple of placards that cut to the chase: they say Pilsner Urquell and Budwar. Yes, the names of Czech beers.
And the building itself is a big, rambling, late Victorian house. Nothing remotely about it – the casual peek-a-boo signage excepted – that announces this is an inn or restaurant. Just up the garden path and through that door there’s a warm welcome and good food.
But that’s the case. And I’m speaking from considerable experience. Bohemia House is one of my favourite places in my neighbourhood, West Hampstead. Recent personal experience. Mary and I and a couple of friends feasted there less than 24 hours ago. Any times a good time to go to Bohemia House. But this is an especially good time. It’s St Martin’s Feast Days. Or as they head up the special menu for this week: St Martin’s Goose. It’s delicious. And it’s hearty. Oh and this is also a bit of all right. It’s not West End prices. Take the £45 set menu.
For starters, Tartlette with pulled goose meat. Or Goose Kaldoun soup with forest mushrooms, goose liver balls and root vegetables. Or Homemade goose pate with plum chutney, pickled shallot and toasted baguette.
And the main is confit goose, red cabbage, white sauerkraut and variation of dumplings.
Desserts: well, there’s no goose dessert but the Roasted Chestnut Apple cake, for example, takes up the slack. The whole shebang, it’s delicious and very filling. It’s seasonal. The winter’s just round the corner in the Czech Republic and culinary-wise the Czechs are shoring up their defences.
And those are just the solids. There’s of course Czech beer. And on this day – happened a few minutes ago – at eleven minutes past eleven – they deflower – ok, uncork – a certain very special vintage of Czech white wine. And all of that’s in that 1940s – or maybe 1950s – setting. And I can’t resist this, there’s a lot of bonhomie in Bohemia House. In just a minute Tomas will shed some light on some of these matters. As well as tell a bit of his own story. And what makes that fare particularly rich and satisfying is it isn’t just a Czech story. It’s also a quintessential London story. Tomas has been here for about ten years or so now. And he couldn’t be more Czech. But he’s also a Londoner. This place would be the poorer without him. And others like him. Anyway, we’ll go over to him in just a minute. And I hope I remember to tack something on at the end. But in case I have a senior moment and forget let’s get it said in English now. Did you know – I didn’t – there are three different Czech pouring styles for Czech beer. Three pouring styles for the thinking man’s mouthwash.
And while the aroma from the kitchen is still wafting about, maybe try this for size. Just for this week Bohemia House flies in, from home, from the Czech Republic, a leading Czech chef who specialises in St Martin Goose dishes. I mean what’s not to like.
But last way station before we get to Tomas. Just inside the Bohemia House front door there’s a poster that pays tribute to the Czech airmen and crews who fought the good fight in World War II.
It’s in Czech but with English translations. Rough hewn English translations. You know the kind of thing I mean. You see it all the time on menus in Greece or Turkey or China. And those menus – with their lame translations – the temptation is to look down your nose at them. “For God’s sake, why didn’t give some backpacker 10 Euros or a free dinner to proof read their wording before they went to press with this menu. That, I have to confess, has always been my attitude to mangled English translations on foreign menus. But looking at that poster just inside the door of Bohemia House, I was suddenly so glad they hadn’t perfected the English, hadn’t smoothed it out. Because what comes across so powerfully in that broken English is the deep deep feeling inside those words. It was an epiphany for me. Adjusted my thinking, ever so slightly, about translations. Some of them at any rate.
Here’s how the poster reads. See what you think.
“After occupation of the Czechoslovak Republic by German army in March 1939 army airmen and airmen from aero-clubs left the republic mostly over Poland, where some of them flew for the Polish Air Force, to France, where they took part in air fights after France has been assaulted by Germans. Here they gained their first victories. Here were also the first killed. After the defeat of France they left to fight into the British and Czechoslovak squadron of the Royal Air Force. After the defeat of Poland, airmen who did not caught to went to France, came to the USSR, where they were imprisoned in concentration camps. After applications of the Czechoslovak exile cabinet they became permit to Great Britain, where they were thrown into heavy air battles. Some of them fought also in the USSR. Our freedom was costly redeemed through these corageous men. [Notice the mispelling of the word courageous] On cemeteries over the world, in seas and oceans are war graves of 546 Czechoslovak airmen. Into the liberated republic so returned only a half a number of men who six years ago left their homes. These, who fought in air battles or destroyed Nazi tanks by Sokolovo and Tobruk, who were executed for the resistance by intruders, deserve our respect. They are a model for us. Genuine men like better to die in the battle than to live in a slavery. Let us to keep the history in our memory and never forget the cruel lot of our freedom fighters after the February take-over in 1948 when they were kept in prison, got the sack and could not fly. Some of them emigrated succesful again. They lived and live in many countries over the world. We have freedom today. Let us to respect it and also those who took so much for it. Let us to make our country more beautiful and stouter through the daily creative work. Let us to change our opinions and to look out for the best solution of problems. Let us to behave fair to stay faithful to the heritage of our corageous predecessors.”
Deeply moving, isn’t it. The more so for its imperfect translation.
Ok, here’s Tomas.
[Tomas interview follows]
Well, you heard chinking of glasses. And that paragon of words: cheers. And you can probably guess, Tomas is plying me with more medicine. His home made ginger vodka. That moment had Last Call for this podcast written all over it.
Well, you heard the chink of glasses. And that happiest of words: “Cheers!”
And you’ll have guessed and got it in one, Tomas is plying me with more medicine. His homemade ginger vodka.
That moment had Last Call for this podcast written all over it.
But hey, we had lift-off with a few words of Czech, and I fancied a few words of Czech for touchdown.
And those three Czech beer pours? I wanted to hear how the words are pronounced.
So here you go. And listen closely. Because when you’ve heard this, you’ll know.
A useful little language lesson.
You go into a bar in Prague with a friend. You can show off. Impress him with your command of the local lingo. “Make my friend’s pour a… and I’ll have a…”
And when the locals hear you say that, you’re going to be home and dry.
Well, not dry.
But you know what I’m saying.