Three years ago today, we were in Vienna.
That evening, we attended a thoroughly incompetent performance of a thoroughly incompetent production of Mozart’s “Don Giovanni” at Theater an der Wien.
Before the performance, we were pressed for time, so we dined at a small, modest, family-run, typical Viennese restaurant. The restaurant offered two fixed three-course-dinner options—and nothing more.
Our dinner was more than satisfactory—and we made the opera performance with time to spare.
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