You are not in danger of starving in the Czech Republic, although if you are a vegetarian your choices may be limited. The country abounds with dining possibilities ranging from the most plebeian to the outright luxurious.

Free standing kiosks or hole-in-the-wall shops offer the quickest and cheapest sustenance. This street food, usually swimming in fat and generously laden with calories, generally consists of párek a rohlík (sausage and roll slathered with mustard), bramborák (potato pancake) or lángoš (a deep fried batter concoction redolent with garlic). In my opinion, the sausage here taste infinitely better than the standard American hot dog; this might be a function of more spices, Czech's' lack of inhibition in regard to the consumption of fat and the crusty rohlík. The buffet, a baby step up the expense and culinary ladder, serves cafeteria style. It is best to scout out the possibilities before getting into line as people tend to be impatient. God help the unfortunate soul who wants to go back to get something he passed up. One finds goulash, and an assortment of open face sandwiches and sausages, as well as soups. Beer and soft drinks are also served. Customers eat standing up, leaning against the counter high tables. One's table mates tend to be taciturn and in a hurry since people come here to grab a quick bite and not to socialize.

You can also rest your tired feet in the pivnice, hospoda , hostinec and restaurace; they all are sit-down eateries. The first three can be loosely classified as pubs. Pivnice, a beer hall, foregoes the pretense of being primarily a meal providing facility. While it exists to serve beer, the pivnice usually does provide hearty snacks to accompany the noble brew. People do visit a hospoda to eat, but also they go there to socialize and drink, especially beer. Many a hospoda, especially in the villages and small towns, retains its all male status. Foreign women are more likely to be tolerated than Czech ones, who are assumed to know better. This is slowly changing; groups of women or mixed groups do often eat and socialize in the pubs. A hostinec, still a humble establishment, is more likely to concentrate on food than the hospoda. The vinárna or wine bar, which offers wine and food, tends to be more expensive and sophisticated; some can be outright snobbish. Once a waiter in a vinárna with pretensions as grand as the view of Prague from its terrace berated me for ordering a beer. Since I had ordered in my native Czech and was with an American friend, who wisely ordered a coke, the waiter, I suspect, took me for an ignorant and unsophisticated native who needed to be instructed in the finer points of proper behavior. You can go to a vinárna just to order a drink; however, if you walk into a restaurace, (restaurant) you are saying that you want a meal.

The government classifies all eating establishments into three price categories, the first class being the most expensive and the third, the cheapest. The menu with all the prices listed, often translated into German and English, or what Czechs assume is German and English, is always posted outside. Wisdom and prudence dictate reading the menu before rushing in. The décor of the establishment and refinement of the menu items do correspond to the price categories, but the quality of the offerings may not. I have often found it difficult to discern any difference between the food in restaurants in the second and third categories.

The rules of behavior in Czech eating establishment differ somewhat from those in North America. In the pubs of various ilks, you may be confronted with long tables. It is perfectly acceptable to sit anywhere after asking if the place is unoccupied. You may, but are not required, to converse with your tablemates. In restaurants of the third and second category, you are expected to seat yourself, but do not make yourself at home if the table sports a "reservé" sign.

Next, you will be handed a menu and asked what you want to drink. Although the menu lists cocktails, I have never known Czechs to start a meal with them unless it was a special occasion like a wedding or graduation, which requires toasts. Czechs tend to drink beer, wine, and mineral water, juice or carbonate beverages. To order milk is to be considered someone akin to a barbarian. A larger group may order a bottle of wine, but wine is usually ordered by the deciliter, two "deci" being a glass. Many ask for mineral water along with wine. In the opinion of the natives, wine by itself does not quench thirst. Czechs do not drink coffee or tea with their meal, and restaurants are unlikely to accommodate such requests. Food items, except few specialty items and the prix fixe menu, are á la carte. Beware, by the time you add the cost of a starch, vegetable and salad you may well have doubled the price of your entrée. The weight of the main course is usually entered on the menu. Watch out for the price of whole fish, which is stated for a minimal weight. Invariably, the waiter or waitress will inform you that they have only larger fish than specified and that your entrée will cost more. The fish of the specified size, I firmly believe, is a mythical creature. For dessert, most restaurants offer ice cream sundays, crêpes and strudel. Many Czechs end a meal with coffee, strong coffee, such as expresso or Turkish coffee, that is guaranteed to grow hair on your chest. A better bet for those with a sweet tooth is either cukrárna (pastry shop) or kavárna (café). In the cukrárna you chose by pointing to various confections and wash your indulgence down with coffee or hot chocolate. The kavárna offers similar choices, but you have to order them verbally. Czech cafés traditionally functioned as a place to meet people and socialize.

Your choice of food will, of course, depend on the specialization of the restaurant. Czech cuisine belongs to the central European family and bears a resemblance to its German, Austrian and Hungarian cousins. Pork, veal, game, duck, goose, cabbage, in its green, red and pickled incarnation, abound. Sour cream, caraway seeds and dill are never spared. The Czechs' claim to culinary fame, however, rests on its dumplings (knedlíky.) They appear in various guises from the first to the last course. Liver dumplings grace the soup. Potato or bread dumplings, bramborové and houskové knedlíky, respectively, accompany the main course. Czechs consider them the starch of choice since they soak up so beautifully the ubiquitous gravies and sauces. Most Americans would consider fruit stuffed dumplings dessert fare, especially since they are served with sugar, often mixed with cinnamon or ground poppy seeds, grated farmer's cheese or sour cream and melted butter. To Czechs, these dumplings belong into the "meatless main meal" category. Unfortunately, the fruit stuffed dumplings, which I think are the crowning glory of Czech cuisine, rarely appear on restaurant menus. They are too seasonal (the fruit should be fresh) and too labor-intensive. It is worth trying to convince your Czech acquaintances or their mothers and their grandmothers to make them for you. I promise you that you will not be disappointed.

After the Velvet Revolution, ethnic restaurants have proliferated in the Czech Republic. Now even small towns sport Chinese and Italian eateries. I was surprised to find a Mexican restaurant in Rokycany, a small town about 40 miles south of the capital. In Prague, which before 1989 had one lone Chinese restaurant, one has the choice of Greek, Japanese, Mexican and Indian fare, to mention just a few. For the homesick or truly non-adventurous eaters, there are McDonalds in all larger cities. I personally know of four in the center of Prague and of two Kentucky Fried Chicken venues.

A few additional observations are in order. Czechs eat holding the knife in the right hand and the fork in the left one; unlike North Americans, they do not cut up their meat, switch the fork to the right hand and proceed to eat holding only the fork. There is no need to change table manners, but be aware that every one will automatically identify you as a foreigner. Czechs are not in the habit of tipping the usual 15 per cent. Foreigners, my Czech friends tell me, are spoiling this wonderful frugal Czech custom of small tips. The waiter, sometimes the headwaiter, will come to settle your bill. He will recite what you have consumed, often add to it the cover charge, as well as a gratuity and present you with the bill. After adding your tip to the bill, you put your money on the tray and will tell the waiter how much you intend to pay. Often the tip is already included, and all that is required is to round off the bill or add a small gratuity.

Bathrooms need to be discussed when dealing with eating out. As far as I am concerned, the greatest progress in the Czech Republic since the Velvet Revolution has been in these necessary facilities. Even in the humblest of eateries, one finds remodeled bathrooms. One rarely endangers one's health in using them. Soap is pumped from a container rather than suspended from a mesh bag that all must use, the hand drying machines or paper towels have replaced the common towel rich with the germs of all those who had previously dried themselves, the bowls are shiny and new and the flushing mechanisms are no longer recalcitrant.

Prague restaurants specializing in fine dining found in Prague are in a class by themselves. There you will be seated by the maitre d', cocktail will be in order, a wine list will be proffered, the entrée will come with side dishes, amenities abound and you are expected to tip generously as you would in the United States. Be prepared to pay the American or West European prices of expensive luxury establishments. Many of the expensive Prague restaurants are now beautifully decorated often in the elegant and indigenous art nouveau style. They are truly a feast for the eyes; however, I must warn you that I have very little first hand knowledge of the cuisine. The very few Czech friends, whom I convinced to accompany me to those establishments, and I add that I had made it clear that the dinner was my treat, blanched at the sight of the prices on the menu and suddenly lost all desire to eat. The bill for a nice dinner for two would have been more than the average salary for a week.

Happy eating! Dobrou chuť!

Mary Hrabik Samal

Dr. Mary Hrabik Samal teaches at Oakland University and frequently visits Eastern Europe and her native Czech Republic.