At The Guest House, the butter salzstangerl—one of ‘the city’s prodigal sons,’ one critic puts it—is beautiful, the eggs Benedict a work of art, the interior vintage Terence Conran, (with the cutlery and glassware following suit), the view enviable (the Albertina Museum and the Opera loom near) and the menu pleasingly ‘international,’ with plenty of nods to local produce and traditions.
These days, sleek modernist boutique hotels are no longer the novelty they once were, but it is still nice to find a small bastion of clean-lined ‘now’ness among the heavy draperies, murals and old school splendor that crowd the city. And so to breakfast…
