If you've scoured the city and can't find a hunting horn or intricately-carved silver sword, then the Kavkaz restaurant is the place to go.
Kavkaz is Russian for Caucasus and this grand dining chamber parades its authenticity by offering these souvenirs of the region for sale in the entrance. On a chilly, rainy night it was difficult to resist a pair of colorful, woolly socks no doubt knitted by a hunchbacked Georgian grandmother in her mountain hut.
The restaurant itself was a cozy sanctuary from the elements designed to look like a draughty medieval banquet hall. A roaring log fire was all that the scene lacked. That and a crowd of bearded men in furry boots loudly toasting each other and dancing on the table.
The walls were graced by rustic oil paintings and a life-size woman's figure cut out of black metal. The same dark wood has been used for the tables, bar stools and sloping beams which create an enclave at the side of the restaurant for tete-a-tetes.
Taped Russian music at various volumes enlivened the otherwise subdued atmosphere in which a lone naval officer was enjoying a quiet drink at the bar.
The size of the portions should attract a brisk trade. If a Chechen army ever marches into St Petersburg it will be amply fed here.
Chebureki, called "Tcheboureki" here (the menu is in Russian and English), are doled out at metro stations in the form of greasy pastry envelopes containing a teaspoon-full of meat. The Kavkaz restaurant's chebureki are more like parcels than envelopes, stuffed full of minced mutton and onions.
One would be enough as a starter but two are served, making the puffy bread which is brought with the starters quite redundant.
The chebureki were priced at $4 (18,800 roubles) at the restaurant's unappealing rate of 4,700 to the dollar. Modestly disguising its affiliation to US currency, the management refers to dollars as conventional units.
The other starter we tried was Koshani Lobio, explained on the menu as French beans cooked in a pot ($3). This turned out to be our only really spicy dish and we refilled our glasses of wine a couple of times before the pot was empty.
We had been intrigued by the list of Georgian red wines on the menu but completely at a loss as to the difference between Khvantchkara, Kindzmarauli, Mukuzani and Akhasheni (all $15 for a bottle). The waitress recommended Kinzmarauli and we were not disappointed. It was presented to us with a red napkin tied around the neck of the bottle, so we could only assume it was a member of Lenin's Young Pioneers organization.
The wine was an exquisite addition to what was already a feast by any standards. My English companion gave the restaurant her highest accolade - "First class!" - adding that in her nine months of living in Russia it was the best meal she had eaten.
The main courses we opted for were grilled trout at $15 (rather than the slightly-boiled trout for the same price) and to assuage my sadistic instincts, chicken -- flattened and grilled at $13.
The two pieces of trout were garnished with a chain of raw onion and olives stuffed with red pepper. The chicken, sprawled across an outsized plate, was as flat as it could have been with its leg and wing intact. The fish was accompanied by a tangy sour-cream sauce and the chicken by tomato relish.
Both the main courses came with a side portion of chips with garlic and parsley. Our efforts to demolish everything on our plates gradually slowed down and we tried to call the waitress over to order some mineral water. She was so far away that we realized not buying a hunting horn had been an oversight.
The desserts sounded enticing: (Ararat - peach in chocolate sauce for $6, Czarina Tamara - pineapple peaces with whipped cream for $6 and Pakhlava - raisins, nuts and honey cake for $7). All we could manage was coffee for $2 and tea for $1.50.