COFFEE & BISCUITS

There was a man sitting by the window when I came into Cafe Hummel.  The old-butler-like host, wearing a bow-tie with a tux (even though this is only a regular cafe with budget prices) enthusiastically took me to a table across from this man.   Only an almost empty glass of beer on his table.  It was one in the afternoon.  He sat there, a cigarette in between his fingers, smoking, and staring out the window.

The interior of Cafe Hummel was now filled with smoke.  In Austria, it is legal to smoke indoors, and many people do so.  But it was exactly the smoke-filled quality that lent the place an ancient, immutable feel. On the wall hung a large drawing of the cafe at the turn of the 20th century. Sitting in this cafe of red-square table clothes, one could be tricked into thinking that the time was still 1909.   As the tram passed by outside, the whole place vibrated a little.

My melange has arrived, but he was still gazing out of the window. 

His gaze was fixated at something outside the casement.  Meanwhile I gazed at him, wondering what he was gazing at.

Next to this middle-age man was an old man whose glasses was set way below his eyes.  When I entered the cafe, I wanted to sit at his table but could not because a sign “reserved” already sat on it.

It was his reserved table.  He entered the cafe, shortly after me.  The host eagerly took him to his table.  And the moment he sat down, the red hair and friendly young waitress (who clearly was in awe of the butler-like host) quickly produced three different German magazines/newspapers to him, along with a silver tray on which sat a bottle of mineral water.  The host continued to chat with him, all the while placing his hand on his shoulder in a familiar fashion.  (He also did this to several old ladies who entered subsequently).  Unlike the man next to his table, this old man was not distracted by the scenes outside the window and only concentrated on his food, which was a place of sausages and fries.

Sitting next to me was an old lady in green, a string of pearls around her neck, smoking, after the host warmly welcomed her.

What did she order?  Some ham.  And a beer!  In the middle of the day!

Note that the first man also had a beer.

They drink beer in the middle of the day?

Even the most tenacious drinker in my class does not drink beer in the middle of the day.

I sipped my melange.

My first taste of this highly recommended caffine product of Austria was that it tasted like a latte. 

The host indeed was jovial.  When a table of people rose from the table, the host appeared promptly and grabbed the jackets for the ladies. 

It was clear to me that Cafe Hummel is a local’s cafe, as the host seemed to know everybody and the customers all were old men and ladies.  (By the way, the ladies seemed to all wear pearls).  I disagree with the Lonely Planet’s assessment that the waitresses here are “aloof”.  Least of that.

But what was stranger — or rather, foreign–to me was the customers.  There were several old customers, taking lunch with beer.  You see young people with their laptops ordering only drinks.  You also have slightly older man drinking beer.  Most of them smoke.

Facts
Cafe Hummel (Josefstadt)
Kleines Gulasch  4.8 euro
Melange (which was served promisingly with a glass of water — for rinsing your mouth)  2.7 euro