Balkan Express

… But there’s nothing sassy about the little rustic bistro, no assumption that carnivory is a misunderstood art, or one ripe for reinvention. Wedged into a cozy wooden seat in the single small room, you can easily believe you’ve stopped for the night in a rough-hewn Balkan inn… THE NEW YORK TIMES, July 16, 2008
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Don't need to be able to pronounce it to eat it

Kafana, a candlelit bistro on Avenue C’s burgeoning bar and restaurant row… artfully cluttered with framed ancient postcards and bric-a-brac antiques, and staffed by good-looking young Serbs. Instead of Slavic intellectuals choking on filterless cigarettes, you’ll find the usual THE NEW YORK POST, June 2, 2010
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Teleport yourself to Serbia

“People want to be transported. I wanted to make a cozy place that felt like home but that wasn’t screaming ‘Serbia’ at you,” says Ocokoljic. It’s a formula that seems to be working. “Friends, new arrivals can come here and order cevapi and ask for them like we do at home.” THE VILLAGE VOICE, July 9, 2008
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… But there’s nothing sassy about the little rustic bistro, no assumption that carnivory is a misunderstood art, or one ripe for reinvention. Wedged into a cozy wooden seat in the single small room, you can easily believe you’ve stopped for the night in a rough-hewn Balkan inn… New York Times

Kafana, a candlelit bistro on Avenue C’s burgeoning bar and restaurant row… artfully cluttered with framed ancient postcards and bric-a-brac antiques, and staffed by good-looking young Serbs. Instead of Slavic intellectuals choking on filterless cigarettes, you’ll find the usual East Village crowd feasting on dishes they couldn’t even attempt to pronounce. The New York Post

Tasty nuggets on the meaty menu, each $11.95, include walnut-and-cheese-stuffed prunes wrapped in bacon paired with chicken livers wrapped in bacon; and the aforementioned skinless grilled sausages, cevapi, eaten with chopped onions and that buttery, almost cheesy spread, kajmak (pronounced “KYE-mack”). Newsweek

Thus it was refreshing to sit down at Kafana, a mid-priced new place in the East Village, and find the food entirely unreconstructed from its Eastern European antecedents, with nary a drop of balsamic, leaf of mizuna, or doodle of fuchsia-colored sauce in sight. “This is just the way we eat in Belgrade.” The New York Sun

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