SK I EN
Inspired by Slovakia’s take on Kitchen Nightmares (TV show Na Nože), this series follows the trail of restaurants featured in the show—one plate at a time.
Let me open with a famous Cimrman quote: “He opened a pub… and those bastards actually started coming.”
As a long-time fan of kitchen rescue shows like Áno, šéfe! (the Czech version of Kitchen Nightmares), I’d always wanted to visit the restaurants featured on TV. But life had other plans. By the time I finally got around to it, the restaurants had usually changed hands or concepts—or simply disappeared.
Then came Na Nože, the Slovak reboot, with chef Martin Novák at the helm. And with it, a new chance to follow the trail while it’s still warm. This time, I promised myself: no more missed opportunities.
So here we are, kicking off the Still Sharp? series with a visit to Pizza Pub Tank—a restaurant in my hometown of Banská Bystrica that appeared in the first season. On the show, they struggled with inconsistent food quality, chaotic service, and a confused menu. Martin helped tighten their concept and improve the kitchen. He gave them 3 out of 5 knives—a decent but not glowing review.
Let’s find out if they’ve held onto that edge.
First Impressions: A Rough Start
We first tried to visit on a Saturday evening, but the place was packed with beer lovers and didn’t feel like the right moment to judge the kitchen. So we returned Sunday for an early dinner instead.
We arrived five minutes past five. The place was half full but filling up quickly. Normally, staff give guests a moment to settle in. Not here. Multiple servers walked by without even a glance. Eventually, we got two menus—for three people. Not a huge deal, but it felt careless.
No drink order was taken while we browsed the menu, which felt like another missed opportunity. More surprisingly, the menu lacked pasta—despite its presence online. I’d come craving Bolognese. Tough luck.
The Orders: Inconvenient Timing, Missing Basics
Our group settled on:
- Grilled chicken with potatoes (Tomáš)
- Pizza with bacon, salami, and peppers (Katka—no chili, per request)
- Tomato soup and Italian-style braised beef (me)
Menus aside, we were optimistic. Then came the cutlery—delivered in a small white bucket, part of the restaurant’s TV-revamped identity. Inside: five knives, two forks, and two napkins. For three people. All utensils faced up, meaning you had no choice but to touch them all while picking yours. No spare napkin to wipe them. Great start.
The chicken arrived first. Then… nothing. While Tomáš was nearly done, Katka’s pizza and my soup appeared. Soup usually precedes mains. Not here. No coordination. No check-in. No “would you like the soup first?” Just chaos.
The Food: Surprisingly Good, But Timing Is Everything
Let’s talk flavor. The tomato soup was solid. With mozzarella instead of saltier parmesan, I’d add a pinch more salt or garlic for depth, but that’s a personal preference. A dash of basil wouldn’t hurt either. Portion size was generous. The breadstick on the side—called a “pizza štangľa”—was delicious, a welcome twist from standard bread. I only wish it were bigger.
Tomáš’s chicken? Well-cooked and juicy. He skipped the sauce (his choice), but the potatoes were nicely done, albeit deep-fried. The salad, however, was uninspired—undressed and limp, like something from a Czechoslovak cafeteria in the ‘80s.
I’ve had their pizza before—it’s one of the better ones for a neighborhood spot. The dough and base are flavorful, and it even holds up cold, which is rare. Katka’s pizza suffered only from raw peppers; roasting them first would bring better harmony. But that’s a nitpick.
The table situation? We were three, one fork short. My refusal to give mine up turned into comedy. Katka eventually had to eat with her hands.
Menu Design & Overload
The pizza menu is way too long. Instead of variety, it creates decision fatigue. Add to that the overly playful (and sometimes childish) pizza names, and it starts to feel less fun and more frustrating.
The Longest Wait: Beef and Silence
Now, the main act—my Italian-style braised beef. Or as I began calling it, Waiting for Godot.
After finishing my soup and watching my companions finish their meals, the server came to clear plates and casually asked if we needed anything else. I reminded her I was still waiting on my main. “Oh right,” she said, “you still have that.” I assumed she’d tell the kitchen. I was wrong.
Fifteen more minutes. Then twenty. Still no food. We ordered drinks again. They came. We drank. Nobody returned to offer refills. Even my editor—normally a two-pints minimum kind of guy—stopped at two. Not for lack of thirst, but service.
Eventually, I approached the bar. The server checked the system and said: “Sometimes the ticket doesn’t print.” Odd. The rest of the order made it. Still, no apology. Just: “Should we pack it to go, or will you eat it here?”
Charming.
I stayed. Food arrived 80 minutes after we were seated. No smile. No explanation. No apology. Just a plate.
And yet—it was good. The meat was tender and flavorful. The house-made bread paired beautifully. The sauce was rich, though perhaps over-reduced. Honestly? It scratched my pasta itch better than actual pasta might’ve.
Dessert: Pancakes Without Joy
By now it had been over two hours. We debated ordering more, but in the end, I went for pancakes. I love pancakes. The server didn’t ask if anyone else wanted dessert or drinks. My friends’ glasses were visibly empty. No interest.
To their credit, the pancakes arrived quickly. But the plating? 12 forks, 8 knives, no spoon. Kozáková would weep. Pancakes are served with a spoon so you can scoop up sauce. Not that there was any. No whipped cream either.
The pancakes were warm and not microwaved, so that’s a plus. The chocolate was standard pseudo-Nutella. The “strawberry purée” was little more than a decorative syrup drizzle. The banana? Ice-cold, straight from the fridge.
Honestly? Not terrible. But clearly not made by the same chef who prepared my beef dish.
Final Verdict
After more than two hours, we left. Nobody asked if we were happy. Nobody apologized for the forgotten meal. We said goodbye. Silence.
So—where does that leave us?
The food, minus dessert, is decent. With attentive service, I’d give them 2 out of 3 stars and come back. But the service dragged the experience down. And not just a little.
If you want good food and have plenty of time (and patience), Pizza Pub Tank is worth a try. If you need fast service or care about basic hospitality, you might leave disappointed.
For now, I’ll stick to delivery.
If the front of house learns to work with the kitchen—and if they realize a smile costs nothing—this place could be great.
But not yet. Maybe someday.
