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After a long layoff of eating and drinking, Collin Flatt couldn’t have made a better choice for his first meal back. The all-new Brauhaus Schmitz delivered big on all accounts, and none moreso than the authentic flavor profile of his mother’s homeland. Full story after the jump.

If I had a nickel for every German Potato Salad I’ve seen with bacon included, I would be a rich man. If I had a nickel for every German Potato Salad that was done properly, I would be 5 cents deep, and only because the last one I had was crafted by Jeremy Nolen of Brauhaus Schmitz. That simple starch side dish was a first step back into my childhood brought on by the cuisine inside these walls. It could make my mother’s side of the family believers in Bavaria on South Street.

Growing up in Reading, PA, I was that kid on the block who had the mom with the funny accent, and the German grandmother who would come stay with us 6 months out of the year when she wasn’t home in Wiesbaden. For lunch, I ate boiled potatoes with sour cream, liverwurst on sourdough rye, and Zwieback. My grandmother would deliver Klosschen Suppe, a bone marrow dough ball soup, Rouladen, and Kartoffelnsalat. And when done right, that Salat consists of potatoes,onions, salt, vinegar, a pinch of sugar, parsley, and a raw egg. Nothing more.

Everyone knows about the beer list, drinkin’ boot, Stoudt’s being the house brew, etc. etc. I am happy to be evangelical on the nosh side, singing the praises of authentic German cooking to pair with those wonderful suds.

Americans believe that German food is bland and deep fried, then ground up and pushed into a casing. The truth is that there are many delicate aspects of the cuisine that need a chance to shine. Wiener Schnitzel at Schmitz is a wafer thin tender piece of veal, barely fried and topped with nothing but a lemon wedge and sprinkle of parsley. Real. Sidesaddled with any number of potatoes, I chose the homefries, which are spot on with a sharp sodium attack that is mellowed by the bitterness of very well done skins.

Gulasch is common around this part of the country, but in Philadelphia, the Hungarian version is more prevalent than the German. At Schmitz, they keep it Bavarian, with large chunks of tenderloin in a very rich gravy that almost borderlines on burnt (in a good way), giving a haunting depth to the spaetzle underneath. Adding a potato dumpling is the way to go here, another traditional starch that never shows up on tables in Philadelphia done properly. A fluffy, yet dense potato puff, touched with butter and gravy.

I shouldn’t have been surprised to find out that Chef Jeremy Nolen worked in Reading, PA , manning the kitchen at The Liederkranz before arriving in Philadelphia. I grew up going to soccer dinners at the same establishment, and got a chance to share some nostalgia with my new chef buddy while we lamented the impossibility of recreating Brotchen, a bread that for some reason, doesn’t work anywhere but the land of the Kraut. The water, the ovens, the lye? We just don’t know why.

The Schinkenplatter of cured meat was a tasty option, especially with authentic Braunschweiger and rye bread highlighting the dish. Nolen declares there will be a new liverwurst each week on the platter. Calf Liver is coming up shortly, and I am sure to be there when it does. I tore through a Gulaschsuppe (a traditional Christmas dish in my family, as well) that was a tad spicier than I would have liked, maybe just a touch sweeter and with more meat. The only near-perfect dish in a night of homeruns, so I couldn’t complain.

The housemade Bratwurst was rich and dense, covered in a wafer thin crispy skin grilled to perfection. The hot senf mustard is the way to go with the brat, and burns with the best of them. Even the salad had a dressing that I have only tasted when visiting my relatives across the Atlantic. Slightly mustardy, with cream and dill, mixed with some of the crispest greens and frisee I’ve had in recent memory.

The prices are definitely not in the budget-conscious diner rolodex, but that’s not to say they are unreasonable. As a lunch option, the Jaeger Burger was filling, but the price tag was quite steep at $11. I got the Brat Plate with potato salad for the same coin, and would stay with larger plates instead of sandwiches, even at midday. The tapas style snacks are very affordable though, and include the Prezel, which has a secret ingredient that gives it a flavor and consistency like no other. Presentation is stark and calculated like the Germans themselves, no one ingredient touching the other on your plate in clean lines.

After a few trips already under my belt, I can safely say the food is consistently delicious. No one-hit wonder situation to be had. Owners Doug Hager and Kelly Schmitz have a real eatery here that needs to keep its doors open. A city so rich in German tradition requires good culinary representation, and Brauhaus is the only option on the map. Thankfully, it’s a completely spot-on menu with perfect execution by a very talented chef.

I know that a review isn’t complete without the environment surrounding the food, and yes, it’s quite slick. Gorgeous woodwork, a cozy balcony, and bench booth seating along the first floor. The only miss was really ecclectic music choices, from classic German Drinking songs, to some weird-ass Hasselhoff techno that was slightly loud.

The space though, while beautiful, was hard to pay attention to while I recreated memories of my grandmother’s cooking growing up on 13th St. Realizing that my comfort food (which until now, I thought was General Tso’s from New Heaven) is really ground up liver paste and burnt gulasch gravy was kind of special.  And I couldn’t be happier that someone else remembers everything the same way I always will.

– Collin Flatt

Brauhaus Schmitz, 718 South Street (267) 909-8814