HK Magazine Editor-in-Chief Zach Hines and I have given Schnurrbart, the restaurant/bar in LKF, a hard time recently. This stemmed from an unpleasant lunchtime experience. We have received a series of emails, notes, and a hand-signed letter inquiring about this. So I’d like to tell you: here’s what happened.
Zach and I met for lunch in Central. Obviously we hadn’t decided where to go so we’re just wandering aimlessly and looking for a lunch spot for less than $300 that doesn’t suck, even though we know the truth about Central lunches. We’re sweating, angry, and heading to this Indian place we always go to.
So Zach decides that no—we’ll go somewhere new. We’ll somewhere we’ve never been, have a new experience, and believe in the power of new food again. I tell Zach I got burned the last three times I went somewhere new, but hey, life’s short and how many times do I want to eat the same mutton curry?
Ahead: Schnurrbart, a popular restaurant/bar I know nothing about. I always think “that’s a funny name,” when I walk by, which is much better than my usual “why are there so many drunk English guys in the afternoon?” thought. I think it looks German and sausage-y. In the back of my mind I remember somebody told me it was good but I might have just made that up like any of the numerous lies I tell myself to justify my decisions.
“We’re going to Schnurrbart,” I tell Zach. “OK,” he says. “Wait—what?”
“Schnurrbart,” I say confidently. We walk in. There is some expat guy reading a paper and a waitress ignoring us. Otherwise there are zero people there.