We get back to Reveller’s and there’s now a beer station set up by the front desk. A number of traveler’s are flitting about in various stages of getting ready, towel robed and showering or just out. There’s an Aussie dude in the lounge area with an insanely cute puppy. We walk into the common room and grab a seat on the couch beside him and the lil duffer run-flops over for a hand biting sesh.
The Aussie hits me on the shoulder, “Do you like mushrooms?!” Haha that came out of nowhere. “Ya dude. The best. You got some?”, “Har! Nah man. Here? You crazy. Got some weed though.” This guy has rented a van, adopted a puppy and is travelling around the Balkans for a while. “Fun driving here isn’t it?”, “It’s nuts, bro!”
Everyone’s friendly in here. We’ve got a girl from Denmark who’s friends call her Benny, a couple more guys from Perth, a Chinese girl who’s funny, cracking jokes in broken English and a French guy being super misogynistic and douche-y making fun of her. Not sure what’s up with the French this trip. Haven’t found many winners like we usually do, Euro or Canadian.
SC Jordan from earlier is in here too and trying to get a group together to check out a place called Walters. This sounds like a good option for food if you’re tight on funds but still want decent portions/quality. MacKay and I decide to scope other options.
I get us a couple of drinks at the beer stand from a cute girl from New Jersey with distracting dimples and a red cocktail dress. Her name’s Steph, she starts asking about our travels as she pours. She says she’s been working here and another place for a month or so. I ask if she knows any good authentic Serbian spots to grab dinner at. “Let me see your phone”, and she writes a bunch of good places into it. “Perfect!”, “Tri šešira is probably the best. It’s like, right beside us.”
Revelers is a little low on bathroom availability. Whatever the ratio of people to available bathrooms and showers, they’re slightly under and lines are forming. After hanging with a few beers our levees are pushing the brink too so it might be time to bail to a restaurant.
Dora, the puppy is a-Dora-ble. She’s making the rounds to everyone in the room.
Tri Šešira
We take NJ Steph’s intel and mosey down the street. Tri Šešira is indeed close by but it looks a little packed unfortunately. I suppose it is prime time. And MacKay and I still haven’t foresighted our way around this whole making reservations thing. Let’s stroll a little further and see what we can find. This is a beautiful location.
We get down the strip and it’s the same scene everywhere. Full patios of great looking food and fun loving people. If we’ve got to wait for a table it might as well be back at the recommended spot. Seemed like the best place anyways. We back track to Tri Šešira and talk to the hostess. Table for two? No problem.
There are a couple of tables in the entrance hallway that don’t seem overly desirable, but getting seated right away is sweet.
(MacKay is excited but his mysterious man code prevents him from showing it)
From here the place opens into two large rooms behind us with multiple tables of people, all full. Busy spot.
(My mysterious man code demands I shield myself with cutlery)
There is a 5 piece band making the rounds to tables and playing traditional music on a stand-up bass, accordion, mandolin, and a couple guitars. Serbian equivalent of a mariachi band.
A server comes by with menus, he’s clearly feeling the rush of tables but is all smiles on approach. We ask him for some advice and he recommends the veal soup, “Serbian specialty”, and then he also points to a platter for two, “Bit of everything here”, and he’s off. MacKay and I start laughing. “Another platter then?”, “Will it feed 5 people?”, “Most likely.” We nab him on another pass and put the soup and platter in and some double G&Ts.
He comes back in 5 with the cocktails and soup, “Veal soup, sir”, and lands it in front of James. He eyes it up and rubs his hands together, “Alright, let’s fucking do this!” the server starts laughing heartily, “oooohhhh yes!” Ahh classic unfiltered MacKay.
Damn this soup is excellent. Serbian specialty for real. Chunks of sour creme. Great broth. Pink nibblets. So good. MacKay classes things up with no spoon to finish, lifting the bowl to his face.
“Vietnam proooooooooooud!”
The platter is amazingly good as well. A burger of sirloin steak. Varied sausages. Grilled chicken. Glazed onions. Potatoes dripping good. Dollop of sour cream.
Maybe needs a spice or something to liven things up. We ask the server for hot sauce (after a couple gins he’s now our best friend). Nope. Don’t have any. Serbian traditional sauce of some sort? Nope. “Possibly, I can grill peppers for you?”, “Oh shit! Let’s try it!”
He comes back with the peppers and a couple more G&Ts. It’s perfect. Slight heat. Goes nicely with the platter.
“Did you ask for those drinks?”, “Nope, but perfect timing”, “Fuck. I love that guy”, “Does it smell like cigar in here?”, “Yeah, but in a good way. Captain Blacks or something?”
Since we’re sitting in the entrance-way our conversation turns to dine and dash stories from our young and dumb years. Turns out we’ve both D&D’d the Apple Barrel on Grafton back in Halifax. “That’s what you get for putting a 24 hour restaurant across the street from the Dome!”, “That place still there?”, “I dunno. Wouldn’t be surprised if it got dashed out of existence.”
Suddenly the room is alive with everybody singing to the mariachi band now. Must be a Serbian classic. The whole place inside and outside too with MacKay and I caught in the middle taking it in wishing we knew the words. Our Bestie server is clapping us on the shoulders and chanting along. What a great energy in here.
“Man. This is a killer place!”, “I’m loving it. Serbia again for the win”, “I’m kinda shit canned, you?”, “Oh ya, those are fucking stiffies”, “Pay our bestie there and explore?”, “Bariscope up.”