Journeys Close to Home

I'd be pleased to make a meal of nothing but bread and butter here. Sunflower seed, says my server, offering thinly sliced bread. The spread next to the butter is identified as cream cheese, anchovies and capers. Having been here before, I know to go slow, because the main dishes in particular are apportioned as if a soccer team would be eating them.

But first, there are some appealing starters to consider. Light appetites should aim for the herring, its vinegar tang foiled by crisp bits of apple dressed with sour cream. Heartier eaters should consider the goulash soup, crammed with vegetables and bits of meat, their intense flavor matched by the the dark-red color of the broth. Two or more people could easily share the wurst sampler, four kinds of sausages (spiced bratwurst is a favorite) partnered with a trio of dips, including a fine house-made curry sauce.

If you love meat -- and you had better if you visit Schmankerl Stube -- plan to go on a Wednesday night. That's when chef Dieter Blosel serves what might be the single best, and possibly the biggest, savory item on the menu: pork shanks. Rubbed with garlic, caraway and paprika, and baked for almost four hours, the meteor-size chunk of meat emerges from the oven with a crisp rind and a succulent interior. It's about as subtle as oom-pah-pah and brings out the caveman in whoever eats it. (Insider tip: While pork shanks are a Wednesday special, at least a few are made each day; call 24 hours ahead, and you can request the entree on a different night of the week.) The glory of pork is also trumpeted in the pink smoked pork loin shored up with lush sauerkraut and tender little dumplings known as spaetzle, flavored here with mushrooms.

My imaginary overseas holiday is interrupted by several unwelcome details, including tough sauerbraten, softball-size dumplings that resemble wads of wet Wonder Bread and baby carrots that smack of a freezer bag. The wine list is dreary, too, but even Fetzer tastes better when it's dispensed from an elegant glass carafe supported by a leafy metal stand. The beers, poured into tall glasses, place me firmly in Germany. And the youthful servers are as efficient and knowledgeable as they come.

Desserts, presented on a large tray, are made on site and ring true. Black Forest cherry cake is moist with whipped cream and spirited with drunken cherries, while the cheesecake made with cottage cheese proves surprisingly light and lemony. In The Sound of Music, Maria von Trapp included apple strudel as one of her favorite things. The version at Schmankerl Stube, with its light wrap of pastry and delicate apple crunch, has me singing its praises, too.

Need a little attention? Head to a Korean restaurant, and make it Seoul House. Dinner commences with a flurry of panchan -- conjure fiery kimchi, baby anchovies, spicy spinach -- that crowd the table, and the meal often continues with some pampering from your waitress. Order the marinated beef short ribs (kalbi), a highlight on this long menu, and she tends to the cutting and cooking of the meat at the small barbecue on your table as if you were her only customer. Forget to mix the thin rice noodles with the spicy sauteed baby octopus -- No. 8 on a sublist of special dishes -- and she gives you a little lecture followed by a demonstration. Actually, she thoroughly blends the ingredients and all but feeds you with chopsticks.

I'm almost always sorry when I order sushi in a Korean restaurant, and Seoul House is no exception. Its fish is cut far too big for my taste, so that the pillow of vinegared rice is almost completely obscured, and the morsels lack the delicacy that makes the best sushi such a treasure. It's better to begin a meal with the kitchen's Korean staples, such as the pleasantly chewy pancake topped with fat oysters and sharp scallions; or squiggles of cool, raw, sesame oil-glossed beef, to which an egg yolk and batons of Asian pear are added at the table for a steak tartare like few others. Entrees show up right behind appetizers, although no one is rushing you to eat quickly.

Set in a generic Northern Virginia shopping center, Seoul House does not distinguish itself with its exterior. Make your way past the door, however, and you'll discover a room that's warm in wood, colorful with (fake) flowers and bustling with activity at lunch, where the magnets include a mostly Japanese buffet for $13.95 and 21 specials for less than $10, including chili-fired pork slices (No. 2) that beg to be washed back with a beer.

To chat with Tom Sietsema online, go to washingtonpost.com on Wednesdays at 11 a.m.