I ate here about 45 minutes ago, and I'm still not entirely sure how to describe this place…read more
Let's start with this: Old Heidelberg is not for the squeamish.
When you walk in, you're greeted by the scent of carpet that has absorbed one too many spilled beers over the past 19 years. I Googled what old beer smells like, and apparently decaying yeast has a "slightly funky odor that many compare to old gym clothes."
Yep. That's about right.
But before you cross this place off your list, please read on. After all, once you know what the smell is, it isn't that bad anymore...right?
When I travel for work, I always try to eat somewhere I probably couldn't get away with if my family were with me. Old Heidelberg fit that bill perfectly. There isn't much on the menu that I can imagine a picky eater looking at and saying, "You know what? That looks safe."
So naturally, I went in.
Once seated, I discovered the beer sizes: small, medium, 1 liter...and 2 LITERS. Nearly 68 ounces of beer. I briefly considered ordering one simply because I wanted to see what 2 liters of beer looked like sitting in front of one person. Then common sense kicked in and I realized there was absolutely no way I could drink it all. So, in the interest of minimizing waste and maintaining my ability to function as an adult, I ordered something smaller.
A few minutes later, my appropriately German-themed waitress returned with my beer...in a glass boot.
Okay, Old Heidelberg. You have my attention.
Along with it came a bowl of potato soup. Within a few spoonfuls, the flavor was so good that I had completely forgotten every concern I'd had walking through the door. The carpet? Forgotten. The smell? Ancient history. Any lingering questions about whether I had made a terrible decision? Gone.
I was officially on board with Old Heidelberg.
That was, of course, until my entrée arrived.
I ordered the pork shank after seeing a picture of it in another review. What came out was significantly larger than I had anticipated. I have no idea how much this thing weighed, but let's just say it was LARGE--like something you'd expect to see being eaten at a medieval banquet.
Again, not for the squeamish.
The shank arrived with the skin still on it, roasted extremely crispy. I had no idea whether I was supposed to eat the outside. Even after closer inspection revealed that there was, in fact, still some porcine hair attached to the skin, I considered trying it anyway. Ultimately, I decided against it, mostly out of fear of looking stupid in front of everyone.
Of course, there really wasn't anyone there to judge me except the waitress and her coworkers.
Still. I had standards.
So I pushed the skin--and its remaining evidence of a previous owner--aside and dug into the meat underneath.
And this is where things got awesome.
What was underneath was, without exaggeration, one of the best things I have ever eaten in my life.
I don't mean one of the best pork dishes. I don't mean one of the best German dishes. I mean one of the best foods I have ever eaten. Period.
The pork was unbelievably tender, juicy, flavorful and fall-apart delicious. The kind of food that makes you stop chewing for a second and reconsider everything you thought you knew about pork.
If the appearance initially repels you, the flavor will bring you right back.
So naturally, I attempted to eat the entire thing.
I don't think I succeeded, based largely on the waitress's reaction when I told her I was finished. But I feel confident I ate everything I reasonably should have, followed by approximately 25% more.
By the time I stood up, I genuinely wasn't sure I could make the 10-minute walk back to where I was staying--and just to be clear, this was entirely a pork-related mobility issue, not a beer-related one. I had simply consumed an amount of food that my body was not designed to transport on foot.
So how do I rate Old Heidelberg?
Five stars. For sure.
The service was good. The beer came in a boot. The potato soup made me forget why I had been concerned in the first place. And the pork shank was genuinely one of the best things I have ever eaten.
Does the carpet smell like it has spent the better part of two decades soaking up German beer? Yes.
Did my dinner look slightly terrifying when it arrived? Absolutely.
Do I care after eating that meal?
Not even a little bit.
The service was good, the food was incredible, and, well... who cares about the rest?