Tri groše

The restaurant & setting. We're in Ľubietová, a picturesque little historic town tucked between hills about six kilometres off the main road near Banská Bystrica. „No ako krásne to ľúbozvučne znie" ("doesn't it sound lovely"), Martin muses, noting that few people even know where Ľubietová is. Tri groše ("Three Groats") is both a guesthouse and a restaurant, and the name has a double meaning: it nods to the folk tale of three groats (one for the past, one for the present, one for the future) and to the trio of people who keep the place running: „Každý z nás je ten jeden groš, ktorý dáva nejakú tú hodnotu" ("each of us is one groat that adds value to this"). Out front there's a terrace; behind it, a village straight off a postcard.

The people. The owners are married couple Lucia (Lucka) and Peter (Peťo) Ambrúš, together eight years, both of whom spent years cooking for someone else before they fulfilled their dream and opened their own place. Peter is the head chef; Lucka carries the floor, the guesthouse, the invoices and basically the whole operation on her shoulders. The third groat is their daughter Lula (17), who called Martin. Peter isn't her biological father but raised her as his own; she took his surname and calls him dad. The family also includes cook Dominik (the niece's boyfriend), the twins, and student helpers (Tomáš, Jožko, Adam). „My sme tu jedna veľká rodina" ("we're one big family here"), Lucka says, and literally so.

Why they called Martin. Lula saw her parents were burnt out: at the restaurant all day every day, talking only about work even at home, no holiday in three years, and fighting more and more because of the place. „Vidím na nich, že sú fakt vyčerpaní" ("I can see they're truly exhausted... and I think it's affecting our life as a family"). The restaurant isn't running the way it should, and that strain is slowly pulling the couple apart.

The first visit. The menu is a mishmash of everything and Martin clocked it instantly: „zase pinzetková kuchyňa" ("tweezer cuisine again"). The bread and soups (halászlé, garlic cream) are excellent, „mne toto robí radosť, keď takto spieva chlebík" ("this makes me happy, when the bread sings like that"), but then it slides downhill. The bryndza halušky are bland and watered down, „jedol som aj lepšie" ("I've had better"). The black risotto is rice boiled in water with a green powder, „neviem, čo to jedlo chce povedať" ("I don't know what this dish is trying to say"). The lamb is tough, dressed with a pointless „espuma," flowers, pomegranate and mint, in the middle of Slovakia, under the hills. Greasy chicken and pizza finish off the rest. And above all: the wait for food runs 35, 45, sometimes 60 minutes. „Toto je tá najväčšia achilová päta tohto podniku" ("this is the place's biggest Achilles heel").

The diagnosis. Martin sits the couple down and names the root: Lucka and Peter are each pulling a different way. She wants to please every customer (burger, risotto, chicken); he'd rather do what he's good at. „Keď ty vymyslíš jedlo, ty mu ho nemôžeš vnútiť" ("when you invent a dish, you can't force it on him; you can't dream up dishes that he has to cook"). Lucka admits the mistake, owning that she pushed that unfortunate chicken. The tension is palpable, „aj sa celkom dosť kvôli tomu hádame" ("we argue quite a lot over it"). Martin doesn't soften it: the restaurant really is eroding their relationship, but their huge asset is that they're „mega normálni ľudia" ("totally normal people") who understand all of it.

The reset. Martin chooses therapy through rest. He takes the couple fishing: they catch trout, laugh, switch off for the first time in ages: „stačí tak málo" ("so little is enough; they stepped away from home and instantly turned confident and smiling"). From the catch he makes a simple grilled fish with a quick cabbage salad, proof that humble food sells. He also sends Peter and Lucka to a dance lesson with his friend, dancer Jaro (cha-cha and salsa), to remind them of something they once loved. The restaurant gains a smokehouse and a terrace grill from Gastrokuchyňa.sk, a blender, a slicer and other gear, plus €2,000 from Tesco.

New concept & menu. No rebrand, just a sharp simplification and one showpiece: a grill right on the terrace, where fish wafts its scent and pulls in passing tourists and bikers. „Tá vôňa priláka hostí, o to mi ide" ("the aroma draws guests in, that's what I'm after"). Martin pre-cooks dishes for Peter that look luxurious yet are honest and plain: goulash soup, beer-glazed pork ribs, grilled sirloin with polenta and cheese, a minced „holandský" cutlet with cheddar. „Pritom tie úplne obyčajné jedlá sú tie najchutnejšie" ("and yet the plainest dishes are the tastiest").

The big night. The test unfolds in chaos. First a seal blows and the kitchen dishwasher starts gushing water that has to be rescued. The soups run out and Lucka accidentally cancels them for a table that never got any. The waitresses get tangled in their sections, helper Tomáš dumps sixteen kilos of pasta at once and ten portions go in the bin. The noodles are undercooked in places. Guests praise the grilled fish and the mains, but wait an hour for soup. Peter is honestly dissatisfied, „som spokojný s tým, že sme sa snažili všetci, ale nie s výsledkom" ("I'm glad we all tried, but not with the result"), even though people leave happy. Martin singles out Dominik, who keeps saving the day (making fresh noodles), and the whole young crew: their hearts are in the right place, they just lack experience and one seasoned person on the floor and one in the kitchen.

One month later. A month on, Martin returns starving and immediately sees the grill in full swing, a young man working it and a packed terrace. The new menu wins him over: a delicate smoked-trout pâté, beautifully cooked meat with lentils cooked „na skus" (al dente), a juicy lamb skewer from the local farm (Peter buys whole animals and uses everything), a venison ragù with lovely consistency and, at last, a salad that isn't just „nabáchaná paprika, rajčina, uhorka" ("piled-up pepper, tomato, cucumber") but crisp cheese, herbs, fruit, strawberries and a bread chip. „Súhra chutí v ústach je na jednotku" ("the harmony of flavours is top marks"). To close, a homemade hand-pulled štrúdľa that isn't overly sweet. Lucka is now banned from the kitchen; Peter makes it, „správna gazdiná" ("the real homemaker").

Verdict: Five knives. Martin hands over the top score, „za mňa ste TOP číslo jedna" ("for me, you're number one"), to people who cook from the heart and, in his view, truly deserve this chance. Five knives is a big commitment and they'll have to work extremely hard, but Tri groše becomes the season's benchmark: a family that simplified, found its direction and, as he puts it, opened „Pandorinu skrinku", a Pandora's box of happy guests. Five knives.