But Daniel Gabor, a kid from Upper Bavaria schooled in upstate New York, chose downtown Orlando — in quarters where, of all places, a barbecue beach bar with the proto-’80s revivalist style of a vaporwave screensaver once stood — to open his room of delicacies,” Schmankerl Stub’n. Foregoing an exaggerated variant of gemütlichkeit in favor of a less thematic rendition in the heart of the city appears, at first blush, risky. Then again, what downtown venture isn’t? Besides, when you’re 25 years old and a grad of the Culinary Institute of America, risks are for the taking.
Easy for me to say. While I’m forever indebted to those responsible for forging Orlando’s dining scene as it stands today, the thought of opening a restaurant here makes me shudder.
“Most traditional restaurants in Germany have different rooms, and my idea was to make a small room big,” Gabor says. And what a big room this restaurant is. “Risky,” I think to myself again after surveying Schmankerl’s sizable 3D house of eats.
A drink, specifically an Erdinger Dunkel ($9), was clearly in order. “Calm and confident,” its makers describe it, and it did the trick. Then a slurp of beef consommé ($12) specked with chopped chives and riddled with strips of crepe. “Pancake soup,” it’s sometimes called. It’s like breakfast and dinner in a bowl, and there’s something comforting in its simplicity. If only it were 90 degrees cooler outside. The house-made pretzel ($9) dipped in smooth obatzda, a cheese spread of brie, cream cheese and wheat beer, has me rethinking and pivoting. Perhaps Gabor has a safe bet on his hands after all. Approving grunts from my companions seem to second the notion.
The“modern”approach to German cookery that Schmankerl Stub’n promises shouldn’t be mistaken for dishes gussied up with fuss and frills — though, yes, plating and presentation play a small part in Gabor’s grand scheme. No, by “modern,” he’s referring to what he calls his “state-of-the-art kitchen” complete with Pacojet, combi oven and tilt skillets, as well as cooking techniques.
Case in point: rendering fat to make the most luxuriant of beef gulasch ($15). The ruddy stew is darkened by a splash of Hofbrau Dunkel and wow, did it pair well with a plate of cheese spätzle ($18). I’ll be making my mac & cheese with Comté and Gruyère cheese before garnishing the plate with crispy fried onions from now on. His sous-vide pork tenderloin ($22), set in a heavy cream and white wine sauce with mushrooms galore, may have been our overall favorite dish. It came with a side of butter spätzle, but we got a side of creamed spinach ($10) just to make a rich dish all the richer. And of course I had to sample the wiener schnitzel ($25), a decision based more on having watched Action Bronson fry a chicken cutlet on YouTube than anything else. The schnitzel here was simply dressed with two lemon slices and a sprig of parsley and came with a side of lingonberry jam. Solid, if a bit small.
Speaking of, children darted about the joint — a sight I hadn’t seen in a downtown restaurant in years. I also saw a man of the cloth gleefully gorging at the table next to us. I’m not sure if the presence of either was a hopeful augury for the restaurant, but we took the clergyman’s advice and indulged in the mascarpone cheesecake ($12) served with white chocolate ice cream and blueberry sauce. Divine? Close. The Black Forest cake in a glass ($9) may not have topped the truly divine Black Forest roll once sold by Benno Deifel at Backhaus Bakery in Ivanhoe Village (RIP), but it satisfied nonetheless. I should’ve stopped there, but I wanted more, so in came an unflaky apple strudel ($8) and an overly mealy baba au rhum ($9). Hey, sometimes eating can be a risky business.
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