Old Europe

At a restaurant like Old Europe, “Stick to the classics” is a typical critical judgment. But that blanket advice doesn’t work here—the menu is all classics. Still, the kitchen, under the direction of Cindy Herold, tears its way through the canon with considerable delicacy and attention: a velvety and, yes, nicely tangy sauer­braten; an enormous, glistening roasted pork hock, Bavarian-style; an only lightly smoky Kasseler Rippen­speer, surprisingly juicy even though cut from the loin instead of the usual rib meat; the beautiful sausages—ask for ’em lightly grilled—from Egon Binkert’s in Baltimore, another long-­family-owned business. But this is no wurst factory—Old Europe manages a seriousness about its cuisine. The room is serene. There are tablecloths. The prices are a tad higher than you might expect, the portions a tad daintier. But the real evidence of Old Europe’s seriousness is its libations. The draft beers—four to five on tap at a time—tackle a range of styles, from the pale Bitburger to a syrupy maibock. The wine offerings tilt heavily toward drier whites; there are Rieslings galore, to be sure, but also less well-known varietals—Silvaner, Weissburgunder. And, though it may not be in the right language to draw in the trendsters, several wonderful bottles of Spätburgunder (German for Pinot Noir) grace the list, as well—like the rest, at eminently fair prices.
—Mike DeBonis, January 26, 2006