It was a café like no other I had experienced. Normally the sole focus of any trip to a coffee establishment is a book, my laptop, an acquaintance or two, or even the coffee itself. But here, in Vienna’s Café Dommayer, it was so much more. It was everything.
It was my first evening in Vienna and my Airbnb hosts had very kindly invited me to join them for the annual Summer Night Concert at Schönbrunn Palace. On our walk there we passed Café Dommayer. My hosts tantalisingly spoke of its coffee, delicacies and history. But for them words would not suffice, they wanted me to experience it for myself, and so despite time being against us, they excitedly ushered me in.
Coffee houses in Vienna are an institution, a mainstay of its cultural fabric with its own distinct way of life. The first one opened way back in 1683 when, as tradition goes, Austrians chased away invading Turks who left behind something rather odd — coffee beans. Regulars over the years include famous names such as Sigmund Freud and Leon Trotsky, and at this particular establishment, Café Dommayer, Johann Strauss II performed publicly for the first time.
In 2011, UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation) listed Viennese coffee houses on the intangible cultural list for Austria, saying that they have “a very specific atmosphere…where time and space are consumed, but only the coffee is found on the bill.”
Walking into Café Dommayer felt like entering into a bygone era, with small chandeliers, velvet red couches, thonet chairs and marble tables, along with waiters dressed in waistcoats and bow ties, all contributing to a classical, formal vibe. “This is Vienna!” my hosts proudly kept telling me.
As we settled into our seats a lady sitting two tables’ away quickly grabbed my attention. Wearing a scarlet red tweed jacket, and with hair neatly bound in a bun, she studiously read the newspaper through her lowered oval-shaped glasses. But for the occasional glance and sip of coffee, her position and posture barely seemed to move, as if the surroundings offered little that was new or noteworthy. This is her everyday. If coffee houses such as this one typified Vienna, it felt as though this lady typified its clientele.
Newspapers are an integral part of the furniture at Viennese coffee houses. But you won’t find them lazily folded together or hastily placed in a holder. Instead they are attached to wooden stick holders to neatly preserve their structure and encourage relaxed reading. Once finished the holders are placed in a station fixed to one of the walls, primed for its next reader.
I am fortunate in that my hosts were not only able to guide me in my etiquette, but they also provided a running commentary on our surroundings. A large chunk of our chat involved discussing the waiters. It is a position that carries great honour, and they pride themselves on giving away little by way of friendliness. You could say they are surly— and to them it’s a high compliment.
It was difficult to briefly tear myself away from the surroundings to choose what to have from the menu. But I soon realised that this in itself is part of the café’s cultural milieu given the sheer number of different coffees available. The challenge in choosing was made all the harder by not knowing what they all meant. I asked for help from my friends, and they highly recommended a melange (French for mix), which is one shot of espresso and a splash of hot water topped with hot frothy milk (or in other words, a cappuccino with a little extra water). To accompany it I opted for a slice of Austria’s famous sachertorte.
I was firing away question after question at my hosts when our waiter came first with our cakes and then the coffees. The cups were dainty and each one was accompanied with a small glass of water to cleanse the pallet. Each glass had a teaspoon balanced on it to indicate that the glass has been freshly filled. Yet another quirk to this most fascinating of establishments.
Unfortunately we couldn’t linger for too long once we finished our coffee (the melange was good but I missed having a bigger mug) and cakes (the sachertorte was tremendous, as expected) because the concert was due to start and we wanted to get a good spot. Our hasty exit felt like an insult to our hosts and Viennese tradition. Unlike some modern coffee shops, where extended stays can feel like an imposition, sticking around is encouraged, even if just one coffee is ordered. Viennese coffee houses are places for old school relaxation and social interaction. Little wonder that it’s said that they are like “an extended living room” for people. And with no laptop in sight, I wondered if those wanting to work know they will be better served — and perhaps more warmly embraced — elsewhere.
I arrived into Vienna a few hours early feeling apprehensive and unprepared. There is a magnitude to the city’s history and status, and travelling alone and only staying for three days, I had little idea how to best navigate the city. I didn’t even know where to start. I thought reading the guidebook on my journey from Prague to Vienna would help, but it only added to the fear.
But little did I know that a quick trip to a classic Viennese coffee house would provide the perfect riposte to my fears. I had sampled a quintessential part of local life and tradition, and as I walked with my new friends to the concert I felt lighter. The task and privilege of seeing Vienna no longer seemed so overwhelming because within hours of arriving I had already tasted so much.
