“It needs a barbed wire fence,” spits my friend. We’re sat on Pl. Zbawiciela, though my colleague isn’t talking about the rainbow installation that has just about survived its umpteenth drunken torching, but the area itself. “We need to keep these bloody hipsters in one place,” he says by way of explanation.
But such a gesture would be largely redundant. Hipsterdom has moved on, not necessarily moved out, but certainly moved on. We are in Rumburak, sat amongst its shaded colonnades. They are pristine, and the Morrissey quote which once adorned one of the pillars has now vanished. The people, too, are normal: I don’t see any random tattoos of squirrels or any excessive facial hair. The atmosphere is both well-heeled and welcome.
A smart waiter brings me an ice cold La Trappe Blonde, and I make my order: beef cheeks cooked sous vide and served with coffee puree and caramelized shallots and redcurrant. This is not the food of aimless youth, but rather high restaurant standard. You get the sense of a well-oiled operation. But more so, you get the sense of an area trying to grow up. Having become a near parody of itself, you feel Zbawiciela is gaining focus and evolving to the next stage. Rumburak certainly demonstrates as much.
Rumburak pl. Zbawiciela 5