Wiener Schnitzel at Herb's

 March 15, 2010

 Schnitzelwirt at Neubaugasse 52, 7^th Bezirk (aka “Herb’s”).  It was a mission legend:  an affordable (even for missionaries!) restaurant famous for its huge portions of Wiener Schnitzel, which is a traditional Austrian dish.  (For the uninitiated, it is basically a thin slice of veal (now more commonly pork) that is dredged in flour, then in an egg mixture, coated in breadcrumbs and then fried.)  The missionaries who started frequenting the place years before I was there had apparently become friendly with one of the waiters, whose name was Herb.  Herb had long-since moved on, but the nickname stuck.  In the eight months I was in Vienna nearly 20 years ago, I probably ate there half a dozen times.  I took my husband Sam there when we visited Vienna on a nine-day whirlwind Italy/Austria vacation more than ten years ago.  If my stomach has a memory, it will remember Herb’s.  It was time to introduce my children to the schnitzel…

An American family that we met at church yesterday met us there for dinner.  The husband, Brad, was also a former missionary that knew the place as Herb’s.  They live here in Vienna now (with their five children!), and apparently are regular diners there.  It was fun to hang out with another family for an evening and have some adult conversation.   (Jenn has kindly offered to loan us a spare ice cube tray for the duration of our stay.  The kids are so happy.  They miss ice cubes!)  And the schnitzel?  Almost as good as I remembered, and the kids can’t wait to go back.   (They all agreed it was sort of like eating a giant chicken nugget, but much tastier…)

The day’s other activities included fairly low-stress trips to two grocery stores (the selection varies by store) and a walk around the neighborhood to become familiar with our new surroundings.  We did try to work in some sightseeing, but three out of four of us were distracted by a small but fun playground we found near our apartment.  The rotating tire see-saw was a huge hit (Cade took a dive for dramatic effect), as was the spinning basket thingamajig (like a gigantic badminton birdie).  I get dizzy just watching the kids on these whirling structures of potential doom.  I am becoming quite convinced that the kids would be absolutely thrilled if we simply toured Vienna’s playgrounds every day, tried out all of the equipment and ranked their favorites (which will inevitably be the ones most fraught with danger).   I have resigned myself to accepting the fact my traveling companions are, in fact, ages 10 and under.  Luckily, the playgrounds all fit nicely within our entertainment budget…