Field sits on a quiet street between the Old Town and the Jewish Quarter. One Michelin star, awarded in its first year of operation in 2016 and defended every year since. Chef Radek Kašpárek's free-range dining: seasonal Czech ingredients, strong flavours, unexpected combinations, and a kitchen that has spent a decade refusing to stand still.

First, The Orientation


Prague had great beer, great architecture, and not much fine dining.


The Czech Republic is not a country with a long history of fine dining in the international sense. Its culinary tradition is rooted in the practical and the hearty: svíčková na smetaně, the slow-braised beef sirloin with cream sauce and bread dumplings; svíčkový guláš, the hunter's goulash; fried cheese; roast pork with knedlíky. This food is excellent. It is not the food from which Michelin-starred restaurants are typically built. When the Michelin Guide first covered Prague in 2012, it awarded one star to La Degustation Bohême Bourgeoise — a restaurant explicitly devoted to the reinterpretation of 19th-century Czech bourgeois cuisine through contemporary technique — and to essentially nothing else. Prague was not yet a city where serious fine dining was a category that existed in quantity or depth.


Radek Kašpárek opened Field on a quiet corner near the Jewish Quarter in late 2014. He was thirty-three years old, from Ostrava in the industrial northeast, largely self-taught in his approach to modern cuisine, and working with a manager, Miroslav Nosek, who had spent years in the hospitality industry at international hotels and had clear ideas about service. Many people who heard about the concept tapped their foreheads. A modern European restaurant in Old Town, on a street of apartments, with a concept they were calling "free-range dining" — whatever that meant — in a city where the fine dining culture was still primarily tourist-facing and where Czech customers were not yet in the habit of spending serious money on a tasting menu.


In 2016, within two years of opening, the Michelin Guide awarded Field one star. It was the fastest any restaurant had achieved a Michelin star in Czech history, and it changed the conversation about what Prague's food scene was capable of. By the time the star had been defended for the third, fourth, fifth consecutive time, Field was no longer a surprise. It was the benchmark.

The Chef


Ostrava. Savoy Hotel. Scandinavia. MasterChef.  The stubbornness that built a star.


Radek Kašpárek was born in 1981 and grew up in Ostrava — a former steel-producing city in the Moravian-Silesian region that is not a place historically associated with fine dining ambition. He trained at the Secondary School of Catering in Ostrava, completed his military service, and moved to Prague, where his first serious professional kitchen was the five-star Savoy Hotel near Prague Castle. He later described it as operating at a "really high level" and found great satisfaction there. He progressed to the Aria Hotel, where he worked as sous chef under executive chef David Sásek at the Coda Restaurant. A brief internship at the Swissôtel The Bosphorus in Istanbul provided his most significant international training. Otherwise, he is — by his own account — largely self-taught in the modern style he eventually developed.


The formation that produced Field's aesthetic was not a traditional one. There was no stage at a Michelin three-star, no formative year in a Nordic kitchen, no defining mentor in the way that many contemporary chefs describe their education. Instead, Kašpárek describes a process of travel, eating, observation, and reading: a trip to Scandinavia that left a lasting impression on his understanding of what minimalism could do with produce; visits to serious restaurants in London and New York that clarified what he wanted to aim for; and years of working in Prague kitchens that gave him an understanding of the Czech ingredient landscape and what it could yield when treated seriously. He also taught cooking courses — the act of explaining technique to students is, for a chef, one of the more reliable ways to understand what you actually know.


"Most of the ingredients we use grow in the field. We go pick them up whenever we can. The field is essential. Everything else is open."

RADEK KAŠPÁREK · CHEF-PATRON, FIELD


Since 2019, Kašpárek has been the principal judge on MasterChef Česko — the Czech adaptation of the global format — which has made him by some distance the most publicly visible chef in the country, regularly recognised in restaurants, on the street, and in media coverage that extends well beyond food journalism. He has been characteristically direct about the risk this creates: visibility of that kind can cause a kitchen's actual work to be overlooked in favour of the personality, and the food and the concept to be taken for granted rather than actively evaluated. His response has been to push harder at Field rather than coast on the reputation the television exposure creates — most visibly in the recent shift toward tableside finishing of almost every course, a decision that increases the risk of every service but also raises the standard of what the kitchen is demonstrating it can do.


The Formation of Radek Kašpárek


  • (Ostrava) Secondary School of Catering, military service — The provincial formation: a city not associated with fine dining ambition, a training that is solid but not exceptional. The quality that matters is the stubbornness — Kašpárek's own word for his kitchen approach — that was already present and would later produce everything distinctive about Field.


  • (Savoy Hotel, Prague) First serious professional kitchen in Prague — A five-star environment that Kašpárek describes as operating at a genuinely high level. The Savoy is near Prague Castle — the specific Prague of grand hotels and tourist culture, not the neighbourhood restaurant world he would eventually build Field in. The contrast informed what he later wanted.


  • (Aria Hotel / Coda) Sous chef under executive chef David Sásek — The kitchen experience that immediately preceded Field. The Coda Restaurant was one of Prague's more serious dining rooms; working as sous chef at that level confirmed Kašpárek's readiness to run his own kitchen.


  • (Scandinavia) Travel and eating — Malmö left a lasting impression — Kašpárek has specifically cited his visits to Scandinavia — and Malmö in particular — as formative for his understanding of how minimalism applied to produce works. The Nordic sensibility of honest ingredients treated with precision and restraint was absorbed and translated into a Czech context.


  • (Field, 2014) Opens Field with manager Miroslav Nosek — The first star comes in 2016. The concept — seasonal Czech ingredients, modern European technique, the name "free-range dining" — is initially met with scepticism. Within two years it produces the first Michelin star in Czech history awarded to a restaurant in its opening phase.


  • (MasterChef Česko, 2019) Becomes principal judge on the Czech MasterChef — The television work makes Kašpárek the most visible chef in the country. His response to the risk that visibility creates is to push harder at Field — most recently by shifting to near-universal tableside finishing of dishes, a decision that raises both the standard and the risk of every service.
The Philosophy


Free-range dining. Stubborn cooking. Strong flavors without unnecessary fuss.


The phrase "free-range dining" — the restaurant's self-description, printed on menus, stated by staff, repeated in every profile — has puzzled more than a few critics who found it opaque. The restaurant's own website is characteristically direct about what it means and does not try to elaborate beyond the obvious: most of the ingredients grow in a field. The team goes to pick them up whenever they can. The name is the concept. The field is essential. Everything else is open.


This is not a sophisticated philosophical statement. It is a commitment to a specific kind of honest sourcing — ingredients that come from Czech farms, Czech forests, Czech rivers and lakes, at the moment they are at their best — and a culinary approach that treats those ingredients as the governing constraint of the menu rather than as inputs to be transformed according to a prior concept. The difference between Field and a restaurant that styles itself as farm-to-table is a difference of emphasis rather than principle: Kašpárek's kitchen is not primarily about the sourcing story. It is primarily about what happens when you take the very best Czech ingredient at its peak moment and apply the most precise and unexpected technique you can find to it. The sourcing enables the technique; the technique reveals the ingredient.


The adjective Kašpárek uses most consistently for his cooking is "stubborn" — a self-description that appears in the restaurant's own copy and that carries a specific meaning. It does not mean inflexible or resistant to change; Field has changed significantly in the decade since it opened. It means, rather, a refusal to compromise on what the food is trying to do, and a resistance to the commercial pressures that would cause a Michelin-starred kitchen to soften its edges, reduce its risks, and produce the kind of polished competence that holds a star without earning it. Stubborn cooking is cooking that insists on being itself, even when being itself requires doing things that may not work.


  • Spring: Asparagus, river crayfish, young nettles, wild garlic, early radishes from Czech smallholders. The menu's most delicate register.


  • Summer: Courgette, beetroot in multiple preparations, tomatoes, fresh herbs, river fish. The season where the Czech growing landscape is most generous.


  • Autumn: Wild boar, game, foraged mushrooms — porcini, chanterelles — root vegetables, pumpkin, wild duck. The season the kitchen is built for.


  • Winter: Preserved and fermented Czech produce, smoked eel, celeriac, Jerusalem artichoke, venison. The season that tests the kitchen's resourcefulness hardest.


The non-alcoholic pairing at Field is more developed than at most comparable restaurants and deserves specific mention. The restaurant was among the first in Prague to treat non-alcoholic pairing as a genuinely creative exercise rather than a list of juices — producing drinks from fermented rye, pine needle distillates, cranberry reductions, and herb combinations that are designed to create the same kind of emotional resonance as the wine pairing but in a different register. Kašpárek has described a specific pine-needle and cranberry pairing with a mullet course that made him, on first tasting it, close his eyes and return to mushroom-picking with his parents in the Beskydy Mountains. That kind of emotional specificity — the drink as a memory trigger calibrated to the food on the plate — is not an accident. It is the kind of detail that distinguishes a kitchen that is still thinking from one that has stopped.

THe Space


Farm tools in showcases. A ceiling that moves. Studio Najbrt's idea of a field.


The interior of Field was designed by Studio Najbrt — one of the leading graphic and spatial design studios in the Czech Republic — and its aesthetic is that of a gallery that has decided to take the restaurant's name literally without becoming kitsch. The result is a room that is austere and bright simultaneously: tall windows, whitewashed walls, minimal furniture, and, mounted in glass showcases along the walls, actual agricultural tools — scythes, rakes, harrows, ploughs — presented as objects of cultural significance rather than decorative props. The tools are not ironic. They are the point: the instruments that work the fields that provide the ingredients are displayed in the same room where those ingredients are cooked. The connection is made explicit and visible.


The ceiling is the room's most remarkable technical feature. Described as "infinitely variable" in the restaurant's own copy, it is a projection surface that changes throughout the meal — shifting through different visual states that reference the seasons, the landscape, and the natural cycles that govern the menu. Early services projected what appeared to be skies; later iterations have become more abstract. Whatever the current configuration, the ceiling contributes to the specific quality of the room's atmosphere: a lightness and variability that distinguishes it immediately from the conventional warm-wood-and-stone aesthetic of most serious Prague restaurants.


Agricultural Tools as Art Objects


The farm implements mounted in glass showcases along the walls are not decoration. They are the explicit visual argument for the restaurant's concept: these are the instruments that produce what the kitchen cooks. The display, designed by Studio Najbrt, is simultaneously a culinary statement, an art installation, and a piece of Czech rural heritage placed into a fine-dining context. Look at them before and after the meal for different reasons.


The Variable Ceiling


The projected ceiling that shifts throughout the meal is Field's most distinctive architectural feature. It changes the restaurant's atmosphere without changing the room — and in a dining room with tall windows and a minimalist interior, the ceiling's visual character contributes significantly to the specific mood of a given evening. No two visits under the same ceiling configuration feel entirely identical.


Tableside Finishing


Almost every dish in the current menu is completed at the table — sauces poured, emulsions mixed, proteins glazed, desserts smoked or dusted in front of the guest. This is not theatre for its own sake: it ensures that the sauce reaches the plate at the exact right temperature, the emulsion at its optimal consistency, the smoke at its maximum aromatic intensity. It increases risk. It also raises the floor of what every course can be.


Czech and International Wine


The wine list at Field draws from French, Italian, Austrian, and German wine regions alongside Czech wines — primarily from Moravia, which produces the most serious Czech wines and whose terroir is genuinely interesting when the right producer is selected. The sommelier is attentive to the specific flavour profiles of Kašpárek's cooking, which runs to strong, direct flavours that require wines with real presence rather than delicate background notes. Ask specifically about the Moravian selections.

THe Food


Czech ingredients. Modern technique. Combinations nobody expected.


The menu at Field changes with the seasons and is presented in two formats: a shorter tasting menu and a longer one, both of which are updated as ingredients change. There is also an à la carte option — unusual for a serious tasting menu restaurant and a deliberate choice that reflects the free-range philosophy: a guest who wants to eat only one dish, or to construct their own sequence from the menu, is not forced into a fixed format. The kitchen's confidence in each individual dish — its willingness to let courses stand alone as well as within a sequence — is part of what the menu communicates about the cooking's quality.


Kašpárek's cooking is characterised by what he calls strong flavours without unnecessary fuss. This means sauces of real depth and presence — made from bones, fermented elements, reduced stocks — applied to ingredients that are allowed to be themselves rather than transformed beyond recognition. It also means combinations that arrive as surprises: pork belly with red cabbage gazpacho and mustard ice cream; smoked eel with quince and dill; caviar with Gran Moravia foam, almond cream, and buttermilk ice cream. The unexpectedness is not random. Each unexpected combination in Kašpárek's menu has a specific logic — a flavour relationship that is not obvious in description but becomes immediately coherent when tasted.


The Autumn Signature — Agricultural Tools as Art Objects


Fire-grilled duck hearts with tamari glaze, caramelized onion, black garlic crumble, and verbena espuma. The dish arrives with a ceramic duck skeleton presented at the table — a plaster cast so realistic that some guests mistake it for the real thing. The hearts themselves demolish the Czech stereotype of offal as tough and difficult: precisely cooked, tender, their specific flavour amplified by the fermented depth of the tamari. The presentation is the argument and the food is the proof.


The Autumn Dessert — Pumpkin with Gingerbread Fog


Pumpkin jelly with marinated pumpkin, hazelnut praline, and pumpkin crumble — arrived shrouded in dry ice smoke that carries, unmistakably, the scent of baked gingerbread. A Štramberk ear (a local spiced gingerbread biscuit from Kašpárek's native Moravian-Silesian region) is served alongside with pumpkin ice cream. The smell arrives before the plate is visible. Memory as a culinary ingredient: the seasonal childhood sweet of the region, offered as an olfactory context for the dessert.


The Czech Classic Rethought — Roasted Beetroot with Curd Purée


Beetroot prepared in several ways — roasted, pickled, fermented — with curd purée and, at the chef's discretion, a small addition of Czech cherry brandy (slivovitz) that cuts through the sweetness with a sharpness that amplifies every element around it. A Czech vegetable treated with the attention that beetroot receives in Scandinavia or at a Nordic-influenced kitchen, but with the addition of the specifically Czech fermented dairy that makes the flavour combination local rather than borrowed.


The Technique Showcase — Caviar with Gran Moravia Foam


Caviar with light Gran Moravia foam — made from the Czech aged hard cheese — almond cream, buttermilk ice cream, Jerusalem artichoke sauce, and elderflowers. The foam is finished at the table, arriving aerated to the precise consistency that allows it to melt onto the caviar without overwhelming it. The combination is Kašpárek's most deliberate statement about Czech fine dining's ambitions: luxury ingredients treated with local dairy tradition, modern technique applied with the confidence of a kitchen that understands exactly what it is doing.


The Forest Course — Smoked eel with Quince and Dill


Smoked eel — a Czech freshwater fish preparation with deep roots in Bohemian culinary tradition — with quince and dill. The smoking is done in-house; the quince provides the acid and floral note that the eel's richness requires; the dill is the herb of Czech pickling tradition placed in a fine-dining context. A dish that demonstrates that Czech culinary heritage and modern European cooking are not in opposition — they are the same argument made in different registers.


The Bread Course — Bread Service with Three Butters


Butter onion brioche and whole-grain roll with roasted seeds, served with three accompaniments: roasted yeast butter with spruce oil; cottage cheese with buttermilk; chimichurri and poppy seed oil. The last — poppy seed being the defining flavour of Czech pastry tradition — is the Czech element placed without explanation into a format borrowed from international fine dining. The combination works. The poppy seed oil on fresh bread is the flavour that Czech guests recognise and international guests find surprising, which is exactly the right response for the opening statement of a meal.

Practical Information


Everything you need before the reservation.


  • Address: U Milosrdných 12, Staré Město, Praha 1, 110 00. In Prague's Old Town, near the Jewish Quarter (Josefov). The street is quiet and residential — easy to miss even in the immediate vicinity. Allow extra time on your first visit. The restaurant's facade is subtle; look for the studio-like windows.


  • Getting There: Metro line A to Staroměstská (two minutes' walk) or line B to Náměstí Republiky (eight minutes' walk). The walk from the Old Town Square takes approximately five minutes through the lanes of the Jewish Quarter. From Wenceslas Square, allow fifteen to twenty minutes on foot through Old Town — the walk itself is worthwhile. Taxis and ridesharing apps are readily available in central Prague.


  • Reservations: +420 222 316 999 · fieldrestaurant.cz. The online reservation system is available directly through the website. Reservations are essential for dinner service and recommended for lunch. Weekend dinner bookings should be made at least two to three weeks in advance; Field is widely known internationally and fills quickly around the Czech holiday calendar (Easter, Christmas, New Year's). Note: the restaurant will hold your table for only fifteen minutes from the reservation time; arrive on time or call ahead.


  • Service Hours: Lunch: Tuesday to Saturday from 12:00. Dinner: Tuesday to Saturday from 18:00. Closed Sunday and Monday. The menu changes with the seasons rather than daily; confirm the current menu format when booking. Both shorter and longer tasting menus are available, and à la carte ordering is an option — unusual for a Michelin restaurant and part of the free-range philosophy.


  • Pricing: Tasting menus currently from approximately 2,900–4,500 CZK per person (approximately €115–€180 at current rates). Wine pairing available at additional cost; the non-alcoholic pairing is priced separately and is genuinely worth ordering — among the most developed in Central Europe. À la carte main courses from approximately 900–1,400 CZK. Field has historically been one of the more affordable Michelin-starred restaurants relative to Western European equivalents; this remains true, though prices have risen with the restaurant's reputation. Budget approximately 4,500–6,000 CZK per person with wine pairing for the full experience.


  • Dress Code: Smart casual. The restaurant is explicit that this is the expectation — neither the formality of a French three-star nor the casual informality of a bistro. The atmosphere is relaxed and unhurried; the service is professional and knowledgeable without being stiff. The Studio Najbrt interior sets a tone of educated informality that the dress code reflects. Arriving in a suit is fine; arriving in walking clothes is not.


  • Non-Alcoholic Pairing: Field offers a non-alcoholic drinks pairing that is more ambitious than most comparable restaurants — including fermented grain preparations, pine needle and herb distillates, and seasonal fruit combinations developed specifically to complement the kitchen's flavour profiles. If you are not drinking wine, order this rather than water and individual juices. It is one of the things the restaurant does that most other starred kitchens in the region are not attempting at the same level.


  • Combining with Prague: Field is a five-minute walk from the Old Jewish Cemetery — the most significant Jewish heritage site in Central Europe, and one of the most emotionally affecting places in Prague. The Josefov neighbourhood between the restaurant and the cemetery is worth walking slowly. La Degustation Bohême Bourgeoise is the obvious comparison dinner, also in Old Town; the contrast between the two restaurants' approaches to Czech cuisine is one of the more instructive double-visits available in any European city. Kašpárek's 420 Restaurant, on Old Town Square, provides a more casual access point to the same culinary sensibility.
Things Worth Knowing Before You Go



The notes that belong in no other section


  • Order the non-alcoholic pairing — it tells you more about the kitchen than the wine pairing does
— The wine pairing at Field is well-executed. The non-alcoholic pairing is genuinely unusual. The kitchen's bartender has developed drinks from pine needles, fermented grains, cranberry, rye, and seasonal herbs specifically calibrated to the flavour profiles of individual dishes — not as substitutes for wine but as different sensory arguments about the same food. When Kašpárek describes closing his eyes during the pine needle and cranberry pairing and returning to mushroom-picking with his parents in the Beskydy Mountains, he is describing the non-alcoholic pairing's specific ambition: memory and emotion, delivered through taste and smell, without alcohol. Order it even if you also want wine. At least for one or two courses, let the drink pair as the kitchen designed it to. 



  • Look at the agricultural tools before you sit down — they are the room's argument, not its decoration
— The farm implements mounted in glass showcases along the walls of Field — scythes, rakes, ploughs — are the most explicit physical statement of what the restaurant is doing: these are the instruments that work the land that produces the food. Taking a moment to look at them before you are seated, rather than treating them as ambient detail, changes how you receive the meal. The field really is essential. The tools are the evidence. 



  • Visit in autumn if you can choose the season — it is when the Czech landscape is at its most generous and the kitchen at its most itself
— The autumn menu at Field — wild boar, game, foraged mushrooms, root vegetables, duck preparations — is the menu that best expresses what the free-range dining concept means in practice. Autumn is the season when Czech foraging culture is most active, when the countryside around Prague and the Bohemian and Moravian forests are most productive, and when Kašpárek's sensibility — deeply informed by childhood memories of mushroom-picking and rural Moravian-Silesian food culture — is most directly present on the plate. Spring and summer are excellent; winter is resourceful. Autumn is the kitchen at its most fully itself. 



  • Expect tableside finishing of almost every course — and understand why this is a statement of confidence, not showmanship
— The current format at Field completes almost every dish at the table: sauces poured, emulsions added, proteins glazed, desserts smoked. Some guests find this overwhelming; some find it theatrical; some find it exactly what they came for. Understanding the reason helps: every element finished at the table arrives at its ideal temperature and condition, because the kitchen does not trust the distance between the pass and the plate to preserve what took precision to produce. It is not theatre. It is a very specific claim about what food quality means at the moment of consumption, and it is a claim the kitchen is willing to make visibly, in front of you, every course. 



  • The à la carte option is real — use it if the full menu is too much
— Most serious tasting menu restaurants are tasting-menu-only; Field is not. The à la carte option allows individual courses to be ordered without committing to a full menu, which makes the restaurant accessible to guests who are eating lunch before an afternoon in the Jewish Quarter, or who want to eat lightly, or who have specific dish preferences from previous visits. This flexibility is not a concession to commercial pressure; it is part of what the free-range philosophy actually means. The kitchen trusts its individual dishes to stand alone. 



  • Compare Field with La Degustation on consecutive evenings — the contrast explains Czech fine dining better than any single meal
— La Degustation Bohême Bourgeoise is the other long-established Michelin-starred restaurant in Prague, and it takes a different approach from Field: explicitly Czech culinary vocabulary, historical research into 19th-century Bohemian recipes, a specific cultural argument about what Czech food was and could be again. Field makes a different argument: Czech ingredients treated as world-class raw material for modern European cooking, without the specifically Czech vocabulary being the point. Two evenings — one at each restaurant — is not just a good use of time. It is the most efficient education available in what Prague's fine dining scene is currently doing and what Czech culinary culture has to offer.


  • Arrive on time — the fifteen-minute hold policy is strict —
Field will hold your reservation for fifteen minutes. After that, the table may be given to a walk-in. This is stated clearly on the website and is not negotiable. Prague's Old Town is compact and navigable; there is no reasonable transport excuse for arriving more than fifteen minutes late from anywhere within the historic centre. Build in time for the walk from wherever you are staying. The restaurant is easy to miss on an unfamiliar street; arrive at the block a few minutes early and allow for the address search. 



  • This is still the most important restaurant in Czech fine dining — visit while Kašpárek is pushing rather than consolidating —
Field has held its Michelin star for a decade and is actively pursuing a second. The recent shift to near-universal tableside finishing, the development of the non-alcoholic pairing, and the continuous menu evolution represent a kitchen that is pushing forward rather than defending a reputation. The restaurants that are most worth visiting are those where the kitchen is actively becoming something, not those that have already decided what they are. Field, in 2025, is actively becoming something. The second star may come; the third would raise Czech fine dining to a different level of international visibility. Whatever Michelin decides, the food being produced now — in this specific period of ambition and risk — is the most interesting version of Field that has yet existed.
Why This Restaurant


What Field actually is


There is a category of three-star restaurant that is primarily a monument — a kitchen that has achieved something extraordinary and is now in the business of sustaining it. There is a second category that is primarily a pioneer — a kitchen that is doing something that has not been done before and is still finding out what that something is. And there is a third category, perhaps the most useful for understanding a restaurant at a specific moment in its development, that is primarily an argument — a kitchen that is making a case, through its food, that a particular city, a particular culinary tradition, or a particular approach to cooking deserves to be taken seriously at the highest level.


Field is the third category, and the argument it is making is specifically about Prague and specifically about Czech cuisine. The argument goes: Czech ingredients — the game, the river fish, the root vegetables, the foraged mushrooms, the fermented dairy, the poppy seed, the slivovitz — are world-class raw materials. They have been treated as provincial for decades because the political and economic circumstances that would have allowed them to be treated otherwise did not exist. Those circumstances now exist. This is what Czech fine dining looks like when someone bothers to take it seriously.


In the Field, we are not afraid of letting things take their course. The seasonal menus do not hide their natural origin — and sometimes literally the return to the roots. The field is essential. Everything else is open.

FIELD RESTAURANT · STATEMENT OF PURPOSE


Kašpárek has been making this argument, through his food, since 2014. The Michelin star that arrived in 2016 confirmed it. The decade of defensive retention of that star, through a pandemic, through the enormous public visibility of the MasterChef role, through the launch of a second restaurant, through the continuous evolution of the menu — all of it represents a sustained commitment to the same argument. The ambition for a second star is the argument's latest and most public expression: not just Prague is ready, but Prague deserves to be in the same conversation as Madrid and Copenhagen and Tokyo and Lyon.


Whether the second star comes is Michelin's decision. What is already true is this: Field is the restaurant that made Czech fine dining a subject worth taking seriously. It is the restaurant that the next generation of Czech chefs will cite as the place that made them believe their ingredients and their tradition were worth the investment of serious technique. It is the restaurant that tourists who arrive in Prague thinking the food scene means svíčková and trdelník leave having understood that something genuinely interesting is happening in the Czech kitchen. That is not a small achievement. For a restaurant on a quiet corner of the Old Town, founded by a chef from Ostrava who was largely self-taught, it is a considerable one.