Pracna on Main 117 Main St

Pracna on Main
117 Main St. SE., Minneapolis (612) 379-3200

End-of-Summer Lunch

A River Runs Through it

What do you associate with the end of summer? When I was a grad student my walk to the department every morning used to take me past a private school … as a researcher the start of the academic year wasn’t especially significant, but the sudden appearance of fresh-faced girls in barely-caressing-the-knee plaid skirts helped mark the end of summer in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

This year summer has lingered on a bit, although with the local ritualizing of its passing—i.e., the State Fair—having already taken place fall and winter are in our minds if not in the daily temperature readings. Perhaps it was because of the realization that snow-shoveling season would soon be upon us, the warm, sunny weather we’d been experiencing notwithstanding, that I suggested to B that we do lunch at Pracna on Main, a restaurant that features one of the more pleasant al fresco dining settings in the Twin Cities.

Main Street is about as historic as Minneapolis gets, and the Pracna name and its association with food and drink goes back well over a century—the menu includes a timeline, starting with the construction of the original building in 1890 and dating the current bar and restaurant to 1973, the current ownership to 1985.

With its history and location, you may expect elegance and refinement, but, if you go the al fresco route, Pracna disappoints on this aspect. The sidewalk furniture is plastic, the beer comes in plastic cups, and service is lackadaisical. The inside dining room has more old-world charm, but its cozy cavelike setting is more appropriate for winter hibernations than summer exposures.

The menu is generic, in more ways than one. The brief explanations of a couple of the pasta dishes give no indication of what kind of pasta, and a curry vegetarian sandwich contains, would you believe it, vegetables. Sandwiches dominate—burgers, a reuben, cheese steak, an open-faced homemade meatloaf with mushroom gravy, grilled cheese, and a charbroiled tuna steak with cheddar—and come with a choice of "Pracna fries," coleslaw, potato salad, or fresh fruit. Entrees are also available and include a steak, salmon teriyaki, and broiled walleye. These selections are all from the dinner menu. A lunch menu also exists, but our waiter informed us that he had forgotten to give it to us; he didn’t bother to remedy the oversight but did say that there were some soup-and-half-sandwich combinations that could be had.

The drinks menu is extensive in its selection of draught beers (twenty of them) and blended and single-malt scotches. I didn’t see any wines listed. I ordered a Boddington’s which was more watery than I remembered it from past experience.

For food, I got the "St. Anthony Falls Reuben," a Pracna favorite according to the menu. The reuben consisted of a sizable but manageable portion of shaved corned beef on caraway rye, with melted Swiss cheese and sauerkraut. The bread was nicely grilled and the whole package pretty okay, if lacking much flavor. A cup of Thousand Island dressing was on the side; dipping the sandwich in it helped. For my side dish, I opted for the potato salad, which was flavorful—the potatoes were skin on, the dressing slightly sweet, and a salt-pepper-lemon garnish imparted some tang.

But food is incidental to the summertime Pracna lunch experience. You can sit outside by the brick-paved street, traveling through time as your view travels through space. The fin-de-dernier-siecle setting of Main Street … the arches and curves of the 3^rd Avenue bridge rising quite graceful from it … spanning the Mississippi, more tranquil than mighty at this point … depositing your gaze on the grain elevators and old yellow-brick buildings on the other bank of the Mississippi … the glass and steel of modern downtown visible further beyond…. A young, attractive blond jogs past on the tree-shaded runners’ path in front of you, her hair worn short and bobbing in syncopated rhythm with her step, and one reverie turns into another. The end of summer is nigh.

A case could be made that Minneapolis owes its existence to the mighty Mississippi River; if you think that too strong a statement then let me modify it to say that if not its existence then at least its current size. What other reason could there be to a build a city in the middle of nowhere, under extremely hostile weather conditions, so far from either coast? The river was the early engine of economic activity in this part of the world. Minnesota, blessed with abundant natural forests and fertile black-earth, used the river to power its saws and agricultural mills, the product of which could then be shipped down the river to St. Louis and places further south. If you walk along the riverfront, just north of downtown, you’ll see the remnants of this once thriving agro-industrial past. Numerous attempts, in the past, have failed to convert this area into a riparian entertainment complex. Who can forget the attempt to create a multitude of bars and restaurants inside River place during the late eighties and their spectacular failure? But now I suspect a successful formula has been found. First upscale housing in and around this area has been created for the well heeled who eschew suburban living. Second the area’s past is being celebrated with museums and art galleries. Third, most importantly, the Guthrie Theater is to locate its new home in this area. One establishment—at least according to its menu—has stood here since the turn of the last century, seeing it all come and go. The Lunch, on a warm day, enjoys itself on the banks of the Mississippi, partaking the hospitality on offer by Pracna on Main, the featured restaurant.

It’s a rare occasion when A gets to the restaurant before me. This time not only did he get their first he also surprised me by opting to sit outside, something that he’s normally loathe to do. It was such a pleasant afternoon, with the Minneapolis skyline draped across the silvery Mississippi, that sitting outside was the most natural thing to do.

Now lets get this straight, Pracna on Main is not a restaurant that would appeal to the foodies amongst our readers. It misses on the foodie scale by two major determinants. The food is not haute cuisine (in any sense of the phrase) nor is it charmingly bohemian or foreign. What it is is good old-fashioned-American grill food, prepared simply and served honestly. This is the place for a well stacked sandwich or a burger but not for something delicately produced and artistically served.

Instead of the prerequisite glass of wine I ordered a draft (there are over twenty beers on tap) Hefeweizen beer, which perfectly complimented the sunshine and the river. If not for the unmistakable American skyline I could have imagined myself in some European city, especially since horse-drawn carriages run regularly on the cobbled street in front of Pracna. But my reverie was interrupted by the equally unmistakable American accent of our polite server. The appetizers include such delicacies as hardwood-smoked salmon, smoked-salmon quesadillas and Pracna's signature baby corn dogs. The 1890 Turkey sandwich is a house specialty and I ordered the lunch special of half sandwich with a cup of French onion soup (the other choice was a creamy broccoli soup). This is one of the meatiest sandwiches I have ever had, with the turkey barely contained between the bread. The turkey was fresh and served with a light dressing of mayonnaise and spicy mustard. I enjoyed it well enough, thinking to myself that I had driven across town for a turkey sandwich! I wasn’t as pleased with the French onion soup, which had gruel like consistency with the random onion strip floating in it. The bit of bread that should be at the bottom of the soup had disintegrated long ago and the cheese sprinkling had also seamlessly merged into the soup. Still I am not complaining the beer and the weather made up for any shortcomings in the food.

The restaurant was surprisingly empty for lunch. I would have expected a mob scene for outdoor seating on such a pleasant day. I am sure that Pracna on Main is very popular with the happy hour crowd. My beer was sweet and perhaps too aromatic to be resisted by the bees that started buzzing our table. One found itself in the drink so to speak and I had to fish it out with my pen. That was the end of my beer. The inebriated bee seemed to suffer no lasting harm.