This is easily one of the best bars I have ever frequented. Minimalist decor, a cat picture portrait on the wall, heavy wooden tables and benches crowded with good-natured - if laconic - Central Europeans and the occasional unfortunate posse of drunken Englishmen pretending it's still 1750 and a Grand Tour gives them license to disrespect their Continental neighbors and perpetuate their reputation as a loud, uncivilized, and muddle-headed bunch of pretentious twits and wankers - sorry, where was I,, a thick fog of cigarette smoking hovering beneath the vaulted ceiling, delicious goulash and cheese plates to chase away the cold vapors of an October night, half liter beers for $1 - let me repeat: one dollar - from a tap that never kicked, a delightful barman who, while never saying a word to us other than "two more beers, guys?" , was always ready and able to top us off the minute one of our steins threatened emptiness, a stone's throw away from Prague Castle which always afforded a delightful postprandial - if rather unsteady - walk and view of the city - in sum, a cozy, welcoming spot to hang your hat, light up a couple cigarettes or three, knock back a few beers or eight, and eat a warm meal in a warm glow of Central European hospitality. Don't tell anyone about this place - especially not the Americans spoilt on over-hopped, over-priced "craft" beers - because it's a treasure that shouldn't be wasted on the vulgar and the mean. Tell Pavel (Petr?) I said hi.
GooglePlace - October 2016