All of this seems appropriate for a German restaurant, because German food in America is a fantasy of a former way of life. No one needs a menu full of meat: breaded tenderloins, smoked hocks, cured chops, and every kind of wurst. But just as the "princely" chalet reminds one of the old country, one feels, after all this flesh, like a fortified peasant ready to toil in the valley below Baron Manfred's chalet. (In fact, you can go out into the fields nearby for a pick-your-own pumpkin.) On the other hand, the corporeal banquet might encourage delusions of nobility; eat the Fasanenbrust in Krauterbutter (pheasant in herb butter, $22.95) and you're a German prince--or, well, a baron in his Alpine castle. You're not a peasant picking pumpkins in the fields. You own those fields.
Baron Manfred's provides inspiration for either urge: a Peasant Platter ($10.95) for fall fortification or a pheasant for the aristocratically inclined. The aforementioned pheasant was a slightly dry, boneless, skinless breast, served over rice with an herb butter sauce in which only a sprinkling of parsley could be detected. Despite the lack of herbs, the sauce benefited from fresh mushrooms and the ubiquitous German sweet and sour flavors. The gaminess of the pheasant was disappointingly subtle, a result of the animals being farmed. The same was true of the bear meat in the Baer Ragout ($24.95). It was much too gentle to make you feel like you were eating anything from the woods, though at least the dark and tender meat didn't taste like chicken. The diner who ate it reported hibernation dreams that night. Do farmed bears hibernate?
Hasenpfeffer ($22.95) was the most satisfying game dish we tried, because of the emphatic presence of celery, which was more distinctive than the soft rabbit meat. In fact, the lack of distinction in any of the expensive game dishes made the considerably less-pricey standards like knackwurst with sauerkraut ($8.95) much more appealing. The classic Sauerbraten can be had alone ($14.95) or in combination with Rindsrouladen ($16.95), a roll of beef wrapped around ham, pickle, and cabbage. The menu described the Sauerbraten gravy as spicy, but this was not a matter of one, two, or three stars. Spiced might have been the correct word. The Rindsrouladen won this match, with its piquant sauce and tender beef hiding the various surprises inside.
Dishes were served with tasty red cabbage and a pair of flabby dumplings, like fuzzy tennis balls sinking in a puddle of gravy. The potato dumpling slowly lost its roundness as it disappeared into the sauce, while its too firm, bread-based sibling had the advantage of a gentle touch of nutmeg. To select a wine we headed back to the front counter, where the baroness herself pours. For 25 cents each, you can taste the eight different wines the baron makes in Exeter, California, home of Gallo (not a good sign). When the baroness pulled the Burgundy out of the refrigerator, we had second thoughts about ordering a bottle of red, settling instead on a Riesling that was described as "medium-dry." This is like calling a partly cloudy day "partly sunny." Better bets are hard-to-find German beers, like the Hoffbrau on tap.
Dinner ended with a very agreeable raisin-studded apple strudel with ice cream ($4.50). The light sweetness of Baron Manfred's fragrant Moselle wine provided an effective tempering to the richness of the dessert. The food at Baron Manfred's lacks the authenticity that the baron claims for himself on his genealogical chart on the wall, but this oddly charming restaurant has achieved its own inbred reality off in Sumner--not so far from Leavenworth, but very far from Bavaria.
Baron Manfred von Vierthaler Winery and Restaurant
17136 Hwy 410 E, Sumner, 253-863-1633.
Daily 11 am-9 pm. $$ ($$$ for game dishes)
Price Scale (per entrée)
$ = $10 and under; $$ = $10-$20; $$$ = $20 and up.
