Category Archives: Kaliningrad bars, restaurants, cafes

Drinking Beer in the Premier Café Bar Kaliningrad

A review of the Premier Café Bar Kaliningrad by Mick Hart

Updated 20 August 2022 | First published: 25 April 2022 ~ Drinking Beer in the Premier Café Bar Kaliningrad

After a two-year coronavirus hiatus that, give or take the odd sortie, dissuaded me from drinking in bars, I allowed myself to be willingly seduced into returning to my sinful ways. The establishment we visited recently is not entirely my sort of place. It is a modern café-bar, all plate glass and open-plan, but as it is one in Kaliningrad that I was unacquainted with, and a place dispensing beer, to resist would have been inexcusable if not altogether futile.

The Premier Café Bar (aka Prem’yer Minstr Kafe Bar Magazin), Kaliningrad, is located inside a substantial building with the main entrance off Prospekt Leninskiy. It divides neatly into two parts: one side functioning as a ‘liquor store’ (they like this Americanisation in Kaliningrad); the other as a bar.

The off-licence facility (English off-licence sounds so 1950s’ corner shop, don’t you think?) has an impressive upmarket feel about it. Behind the low-level counter, the custom-made floor-to-ceiling shelves are stocked with an astounding array of imported spirits, including Jim Beam, my favourite bourbon, but in a series of flavoured variants of which my palate is virginally ignorant. In fact, many of these exotic imports I had never heard of and might not try for some time to come, considering the average price per bottle is a budget-busting 30-quid.

This disinclination to shell out unreservedly on something the price of which others might willingly accept may have its origins in my youth. There was a time in England when we could buy Jim in half-gallon bottles from the Yanks at the local airbase on a bartered goods and ‘at cost’ basis. In comparing the prices today, and taking into account the diminutive size of the bottles, I realise nostalgically that far from living a mis-spent youth, I had lived a youth well-spent or in the last analysis was a youth who knew how to spend well.

In addition to the well-stocked top-drawer spirit brands, Premier also boasts a regiment of chilling cabinets, which contain more varieties of beer than Russia has sanctions, if that is feasibly possible, and hosts a good selection of quality wines from vineyards around the world.

Premier bar

The other half of Premier is where the bar hangs out. It is a proper bar, with wooden stools lining its front and opposite a conforming row of fixed seats and tables, markedly similar in style to the sort of thing you would expect to find in a 1950s’ retro diner.

As I come from England (note, I never say from the UK because that would be too shameful), I have a natural predilection for bars which actually have bars in them, as opposed to bars where there is no bar, only table service. I liked this bar because it had a bar, and it had one with Premier written across it, which is something that I also liked because it helped to solve the mystery of where I was, as I had missed the name of the premises when we entered the building. It also had something unusual going on at one end of the bar, the leading end: an inbuilt feature resembling a truck or trolley. The significance of this embellishment was something that escaped me then and continues to elude me now, but as bamboozling as it was, it did not prevent me from liking it.

The big, old wooden beam above the bar, which acts as a suspended lighting console, and the ceiling-mounted wagon wheels in the room opposite, also have quirk appeal, but by far the most interesting and memorable difference that Premier bar possesses is that at the end of a long wide corridor, lo and behold there’s a bike shop! Now, this is a novelty, to be sure. Consider the possibility: one could stop at Premier for a bevvy or two, buy a bike and cycle back home. And I bet you’ll never guess what ~ this is precisely what I did not do.

Perhaps I would have felt more adventurous had I not been so busy admiring the chevron-tiled floor and, where retro posters are not covering it, the good old-fashioned brickwork. These accentuated traits compensate a little for Premier’s lack of old worldliness, which given the choice is the kind of environment in which I really prefer to drink and where once I am inside it is virtually impossible to prise me out.

Generally, Premiere’s décor both in the bar and off-sales, eschews the modern industrial style. The absolute connection between wagon wheels, hanging beams, rusticating trolleys, exposed ventilation tubes, art gallery sliding spotlights, exposed brickwork and retro posters may not be immediately apparent and may remain that way forever, as the Premier name offers no clues, unless, of course, it has something to do with what is invariably touted as the greatest invention of all, the wheel ~ as in wagon wheels? trolleys on wheels? Premier meaning first? Perhaps not.

To add to its collection of ideas, Premier fashionably utilises a range of different light fittings which flaunt the latest trend in visible filament bulbs. Who would have thought even a decade ago that the humble pear-shape light bulb with its limited choice of white or warm glow would morph so quickly and so dramatically into the numerous shapes, sizes and colours available today and all with their once latent elements proudly on display?

Visually, the Premier has more than enough going for it to fulfil the need for an interesting dining and drinking backdrop, which is good as it offsets the dreadful din clattering out of the music system. To be fair, this obtrusive and perfectly unnecessary adjunct is by no means exclusive to Premier; most bars seem compelled to inflict this modern excuse for music on their unsuspecting and long-suffering customers with little or no regard for conversation or atmosphere.

Of course, the problem could lie with us. After all, we are not in the first flush of youth. But call us wrinklies with hearing intolerance or people of discernment fortunate to have been born in and therefore to have lived through the age of pre-mediocrity, the fact remains that boom, boom, boom and lots of squiggly noisy bits iterating repetitively at ‘What did you say? Speak up!!’ volumes are more annoying than a slap on the arse, if not infinitely less surprising. Eventually, one of our august company, ex-Soviet Major V Nikoliovich, marched across to the bar and asked for the racket to be turned down. Oh, he can be so masterful!

He also evinces considerably more trust in fate than I could ever muster. For example, another of Premier’s novelty features is the under-floor display unit, containing various curious and random artefacts. The glass panel at floor level is something I carefully avoided, whereas VN exhibited an almost perverse and mischievous delight in deliberately perching his weight on top.

Where our paths, VN’s and mine, do converge is that we like to sample different beers. Today we were on the Švyturys, a once renowned lager first brewed in Lithuania by the Reincke family at the latter end of the 18^th century but which in more recent times has become part of the Carlsberg stable, one of those foreign breweries that perfunctorily closed its doors in Russia after the sanctions had bolted. I’ll lay odds on favourite They Wished They Hadn’t.

As we had already eaten, I cannot comment on Premier’s cuisine, although a quick whizz round the internet reveals that Premier receives consistently good reviews for its international fare and its excellent pizzas. My friends ordered some light snacks, which they seemed to enjoy, and although forever conscious of the need to prioritise volume for beer, I did permit myself to nibble upon a couple of cheesy balls, which seemed to go well with Švyturys.

Throughout our stay at Premier, the staff were attentive and accommodating, but why did I have the impression that they were on the verge of crying.

I forgot to look back when we left the cafe to see if the sight of a bunch of old farts who routinely complain about tasteless ‘music’ exiting the premises had wreathed their faces in much-needed smiles.

Had we have been in the States, crying or not, we would still have received a white toothy grin and a just as fictitious ‘Have a nice day’, which of course we wouldn’t have wanted and of course we would not have appreciated. C’est la vie, I suppose!

Essential details

Prime Minister Café Bar Kaliningrad
Prospekt Leninskiy 7
Kaliningrad, Kaliningrad Oblast
Russia, 236006

Tel: +7 963 738 77 76

Opening hours
Monday to Sunday 8am to 4pm

Cuisine speciality
European, Italian, Japanese

More places in Kaliningrad
Dreadnought Pub & Music Venue Kaliningrad
Kavkaz Restaurant Kaliningrad
Mama Mia Restaurant

An Englishman at the Dreadnought Kaliningrad

Bar Drednout [Dreadnought], Kaliningrad

Published: 23 September 2021 ~ An Englishman at the Dreadnought Kaliningrad

Every Jazz lover knows that the best jazz is played in underground basements. Where else would you find a basement? And Kaliningrad’s Dreadnought is one such place.

Billing itself as a ‘legendary English pub’, you would be hard pushed to find a pub like it anywhere in England, but what it most certainly is, is an excellent atmospheric bar-come-music venue and a subterranean supper’s delight, boasting best beers from around the world, including eight permanent and six guest beers on draught.

No need to ask why I was there, then.

An Englishman at the Dreadnought, Kaliningrad

A short walk from Kaliningrad’s Victory Square, down some steps and you are in the Dreadnought. The roomy entrance hall tells you immediately what you can expect. The Union Jack mat, the large wall painting of a gauntlet-covered fist holding a key and a second painting of the eponymous dreadnought battleship, the concrete section walls roughly skimmed with paint: This is a no-frills place, mate; hip, modern, up to date; good music, good beer, young people and me.

Undaunted, I stood on the Union Jack and had my photograph taken and did the same again in front of the dreadnought painting.

Dreadnought’s basement is open plan, but it isn’t exactly. It feels that way because there are no doors, just entrances, so you get the unique ambivalence of airiness whilst sitting in a rabbit warren.

An anteroom immediately in front of the music room enables you to listen to the bands from a distance. The main room, where the bands play, is ‘L’ shaped and divided into three sections by narrowed widths minus doors.

Choice of seats range from high oval tables lined with tall, backed, bar stools on heavy cast-iron bases, low tables with bench seats on either side and, closest to the stage, comfortable-looking captain’s chairs, the sort that swivel nicely and are covered in brown leatherette.

I liked our reserved table. It was one of the tall ones, with high stools on heavy industrial bases. I always like a table where I can sit with my back to the wall. Why not? Look what happened to Wild Bill Hickok!

Mick & Olga Hart Dreadnought Kaliningrad

On the subject of reserved tables, Kaliningrad grows more popular each year, so, if you have a particular place in mind where you want to wine and dine or down a few beers, be advised that you’d best reserve a table or face the possible inconvenience of wandering around from bar to bar ad infinitum. This is particularly true on a Saturday night.

An Englishman at the Dreadnought Kaliningrad

As anybody who follows jazz can tell you, improvisation and spontaneity are highly valued, and I get the impression that Dreadnought knows this. Improvisation and spontaneity have been built into the décor. The basement is basic, real basic, for the walls and the ceiling follows that modern trend where all is exposed and on display: the electrical fittings, wires, heating and ventilation pipes, structural supports and so on. The lighting, even with the many traditional ceiling sockets, is subdued and the industrial-style suspended lamps that dangle over the tables halo the glow with limited dispersal.

Likewise, the interior décor is minimal; its artiness is controlled, aspiring towards the extemporised look, to give that laid-back, unobtrusive but thoroughly engaging appeal.

The British theme, which comes with the dreadnought name, is carried over from the hall into the music room by the further use of Union Jack curtains which, in keeping with the retro theme of the early 20^th century, have worn and distressed stage managed into them.

Principal to the decor in the entertainments room are two large wall paintings. Although in content these are naval associated, the style in which they are painted is distinctly 1940s’ United States Air Force. They are, in fact, nose-art replicas, featuring leggy, stocking-clad, frolicking females, partly dressed in uniform, with flirtatious come-hither looks.

The one nearest to our table had its coquette perched on top of a sharks’ teeth painted torpedo set against a billowing wave with ‘On the Wave’ written across the foam, which I imagine should rightly read ‘on the crest of a wave’. The other had its flirty part-uniformed female draped across the suggestive gun barrels of a dreadnought class destroyer. Both pictures are fun and colourful, although historically neither one, or anything vaguely like them, would have been tolerated by the Royal Navy’s upper echelons or likewise by, and especially by, the Royal Air Force, and as such this type of artwork strictly remains an American idiosyncrasy.

There is yet another room in the Dreadnought’s arsenal, which, if you are unaware of it, you are likely to come across on your way to the toilet. It put me in mind of a typical American bar, where the rooms are long and narrow and the clientele perch on tall bar stools at the front of the serving counter that runs the length of the room. The hubbub, which was busy but not rowdy, the clever lighting and silhouette wall-art of the dreadnought’s heavy guns, coalesced to create an ambience that took me back to those heady days of university campus bars.

Food is served at the Dreadnought, but as we had already eaten at the Greek restaurant El Greco’s, I will make no attempt to comment on either the variety or quality of the food. See the Essential Details section at the end of this post , where you will find the Dreadnought’s website address and the food it has on offer.

I had already drunk beer at El Greco’s but that did not stop me drinking beer at the Dreadnought. My choice of beer this evening was Maisel’s Weisse. It’s a German beer which, from experience, agrees with me, although as I sat there drinking it I could distinctly feel those heavy guns from the Royal Navy’s dreadnoughts bearing down on my fraternisation.

An Englishman at the Dreadnought, Kaliningrad

The Dreadnought hosts different kinds of music but tonight, as I have noted, the stage was set for jazz. My appreciation of jazz is reserved more or less to the emerging and principal swing years of the 1920s to the 1940s. Anything outside of this I tend to regard as background music, some of which I like and some which quite frankly jars. I am pleased to say, however, that Dreadful at the Dreadnought were not performing on the evening of our visit, and all of our party agreed that what we heard we liked.

Another plus in the Dreadnought’s favour is that the music is transmitted at an agreeable volume, meaning that you can hear it, appreciate it and still can hear yourself think and talk. How many times have you been to a music venue where you just can’t wait for each successive number to stop so that you can hold that conversation? I often wonder if some bands don’t pump up the volume to prevent the audience from discussing whether they like the music or not. Personally, I like to listen to music at a volume that allows me to converse with my friends without shouting, not to be deafened into submission to fulfill the band’s delusion that I love their music so much that it has rendered me, and everyone else, speechless for the evening.

Everything considered ~ the location, ambience, lighting, service, range of beers on offer, choice of places to perch and, as just appraised, the music ~ the Dreadnought gets the expatriate seal of approval.

Vodka Selection Dreadnought Bar Kaliningrad

But it wasn’t over yet. One of our party, out of the goodness of her heart, had ordered the house specialty for me ~ my very own ‘big gun’ dreadnought. As the photograph shows, the wooden dreadnought model holds a full battery of different flavoured vodkas; large glasses full of them, and all for me at the end of the evening when I’d been drinking beer. The rest of the crew abandoned ship, but, like the good captain that I am, I remained on the bridge ready to do my duty and was quite prepared, if need be, to go down with the ship as the band played on. Sink or float, the following morning I knew I would need a life belt!

An Englishman at the Dreadnought Kaliningrad. Mick Hart.

Note in the photograph, the thoughtful and conveniently placed fire extinguisher that your friends can put you out with after you’ve overdone it on lashings of chili vodka!

Essential details:

Bar Drednout (Dreadnought Pub)
5 Handel Street
Kaliningrad
Russia

Tel: +7 (4012) 99 26 06

Opening times:
Mon-Thu, Sun: from 12 noon to 12 midnight
Fri-Sat: from 12 noon to 3am

Website: http://dreadnoughtpub.ru/

SEE >>>>>>> Kavkaz Restaurant, Kaliningrad

Mama Mia Restaurant Kaliningrad

My wife has been nagging (they do, don’t they) for the past couple of days for me to leave the house and go outside, but the weather has been so awful that I have used it as an excuse to stay indoors and not get the fresh air that is so good for me.

Today, however, the sun came out and with my excuse rendered null and void I was forced to give in. We were off to the central market, and I had been told that it would be very beneficial for me if we walked, and besides I would enjoy it.

As it happens I did, but you don’t tell them that in a hurry.

On the way we took some photographs of some interesting bas relief work to some of the buildings close to the market.

We were off shopping for vegetables, and I must say that Kaliningrad’s covered market is such a joy to shop in (more of that later) that by the time we got there I had stopped complaining.

Loaded with all sorts of edibles that are not meat, we then decided to stop off somewhere for a spot of lunch.

We chose Mama Mia’s, a restaurant on the edge of Victory Square opposite the cathedral.

Mama Mia is a rather modern affair, certainly not the sort of place that I could wear my 1940s’ clothes in, but it is bright, comfortable and above all relaxing. On one side, the side we were in, you can look out of the windows and watch the world go by ~ I spotted a van with a large hammer and sickle motif stuck to it ~ or, for a slightly more reclusive experience, you can turn left where the room is divided up into larger seating areas favourable for group dining.

Mama Mia Restaurant

In here there are two rather interesting things: one, a wall-mounted water feature, which resembles a mirror but has water cascading down the inside of it; and two, a display of giant piano keys overlaid with outsized wooden portholes.

I was content to be in our little seats, seeing vans go by with hammers and sickles on them at a table where it is possible to flag the waiter’s attention literally at the press of a button.

We did not have the chance to use this communication mechanism, as we were straight in and ordering two ‘business lunches’. These are preset lunches at a very good price. I had Greek salad, soup and pizza accompanied by cranberry juice. My wife had chicken soup and chicken cutlets with brown rice, and between us, in a see-through teapot, we had freshly made ginger tea. The meals cost us £2.50 apiece and the speciality tea £1.70.

Mama Mia Kaliningrad — Comfortable and competitively priced: Mama Mia Restaurant, Kaliningrad, Russia

Shame on me, I did not partake of beer this lunchtime as I had a workout scheduled. But perhaps tomorrow night…

We snapped a few pictures whilst we were in there, caught a taxi home and I left one bag behind, had to go back for it and got nagged at for being дурак (silly)

That’s a nice thing to say to your husband, I’m sure.

Essential Details:

Mama Mia
Klover Siti Tsentr
Ploschtschad Pobedy 10,
Kaliningrad
Kaliningrad Oblast, 236006

Tel: 8 (401) 253 33 55

Opening times:
Everyday 10am to 12am

Plyushkin Bar & Restaurant Kaliningrad

Plyushkin Bar & Restaurant

Sadly, Plyushkin is now as deceased as it’s fictional namesake😥

It is not called ‘Lampshades’ but why not is anybody’s guess. Plyushkin (which is the name of a fictional character in Gogol’s novel Dead Souls) is a bar/restaurant located on a busy intersection in Kaliningrad opposite the Amber Museum. It is nice and central, and situated as it is on a bustling traffic hub, easy to get to by bus, mini-bus or tram. From the outside, it is deceptive, especially at night, when all that can be seen is a small foyer and the neon sign above it, but the bar/restaurant is below ground and once inside the place is truly TARDISial.

Plyushkin Bar & Restaurant Kaliningrad — Plyushkin bar & restaurant, Kaliningrad, where lampshades abound

Be that as it may, the furnishings, décor and lighting make for a very comfortable, cozy and inviting feel. When you stop marveling at the oversized lampshades, you are rendered agog by the seating arrangements. Where would you like to sit? It is not an easy choice. In Plyushkin no dining suite is the same as the next, although we narrowed down the selection from traditional table and dining-room chairs to low-slung settees and tables to match.

Plyushkin Bar & Restaurant Kaliningrad

The accent is upon old-world charm ~ reproduction antique furniture ~ but non-conformist enough to find walnut-veneer-framed divans sharing the same space as 1960s’ designs and Avant Garde spectaculars, such as one table which has a coiled rope columnar support, not dissimilar to a cat’s gigantic scratching post.

Along the side of one wall runs an eclectic series of mismatching sideboards and tallboys, both parodies from and originals to disparate eras. The walls and lateral ceiling supports are profusely covered in framed vintage photographs and prints, including one of a young Queen Elizabeth II (G’ord Bless yu Maam!), although one wall of painted brick has been left relatively clear with respect to the current industrial look.

Queen Elizabeth in a Kaliningrad Restaurant — Queen Elizabeth II in Plyushkin, Kaliningrad ~ that’s her on the wall by the way …

Pigs’ Snouts

The menu is deliberately ‘old style’ Russian, and whilst pig snouts in mustard sauce may not be everyone’s idea of culinary heaven, just think it could be worse, and there might have been a photograph in the menu.

Nevertheless, we have dined here four or five times, and my carnivore associates assure me that their choice of meals has been very tasty and value for money.

The bar is well stocked, leaving nothing to the imagination, and I can vouch for the beer. The cheapest is about 112 rubles (which is about £1.36), whilst the premium, which weighs in at around 7% gravity, is about 275 rubles (£3.33).

Service is spot-on, unlike some places I could mention ~ and no doubt will, as we get around.

Live music

All in all, Plyushkin is extremely atmospheric, and on Saturday evenings live music adds to the ambience. The pendant lampshades, of which there are many, are huge, creatively different and pose a curious question, if not ‘Lampshades’ why not ‘Not One the Same’? ~ both would make super alternative names.