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Where local ‘milk bars’ feel more like Soviet IKEAs

By Natasha Bazika

It’s lunchtime in Krakow, and I’m standing in a fast-moving line between a gentleman in a wool coat and a student in a hoodie at Bar Mleczny Pod Temida. I grab a tray and mimic the Cracovians, sliding trays along and self-serving shredded carrot and cabbage. A dispenser holds red liquid; maybe cherry compote? Maybe beet juice?

Bar Pod Kopytkiem has eclectic decor of knick-knacks, Christmas decorations and plants.

Bar Pod Kopytkiem has eclectic decor of knick-knacks, Christmas decorations and plants.Credit: Natasha Bazika

The woman serving behind the counter shouts something at me. I’m prepared for this. I mouth, slowly but confidently, “kotlet schabowy” and “golabki,” both dishes recommended by my walking tour guide, Emily Meadows, just hours earlier.

She stares, then turns and shouts toward a small square window, through which I can just see a wrinkly forehead. Two plates slide through: a golden-crusted pork cutlet and cabbage rolls smothered in sauce. At the register, the total is 62 zloty ($26) for two generous plates, a side and two drinks.

The set-up feels a little like a Soviet version of IKEA. The bare-bones dining room, with its yellow walls and round lino-topped tables, exudes a quiet comfort but it’s not just the decor that harks back to another time. This is a bar mleczny, or “milk bar,” a uniquely Polish institution. Milk bars have been around since the late-19th century and became fixtures under communism when the government subsidised them to provide affordable meals to workers. Meat was scarce in the ’80s, so the menus leaned on dairy, grains and vegetables. Hence the name.

Today, they’re subsidised by nostalgia seekers, students and the occasional curious visitor like me.

Pod Temida sits just off the Royal Route in the heart of the old city. Meadows, who runs a blog, Emily’s Guide to Krakow, warned me it would be full of tourists. But looking around, it’s a mix of students dragging tables together, older Polish couples and a British family negotiating cutlery. “They’re a little like time machines,” she says. “But they’re not museums. People still come here every day for lunch.”

A bar mleczny, or “milk bar,” is a uniquely Polish institution.

A bar mleczny, or “milk bar,” is a uniquely Polish institution.Credit: Adobe Stock

Where you go, though, makes all the difference. In the tourist-thronged Old Town, milk bars such as Pod Temida serve mostly out-of-towners chasing a cheap, traditional meal. But cross the river to Podgorze and you’ll find Bar Mleczny Poludniowy down a quiet side street. It’s mostly frequented by locals who come for a rotating menu of soups, stews and house-made compote (the red juice).

In Nowa Huta, a socialist model suburb 40 minutes away by bus, Bar Mleczny Centralny is Krakow’s most authentic milk bar. “A few tourists trickle in, but it’s mostly pensioners and construction workers who come, seeking a taste of home,” says Meadows.

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Over the next few days, I visit several milk bars around Krakow. At Milkbar Tomasza, I squeeze into a booth beneath a chalkboard menu that offers everything from pierogi to Irish breakfast, a slight hit to authenticity, but the prices stay true. My nalesniki z serem (crepes filled with sweet cheese) arrive oversized, rich and tangy for just 11 zloty ($4.50).

Later, wandering near Jagiellonian University – which, Meadows explained, is Poland’s oldest university and held clandestine lectures during WWII – I find Bar Pod Kopytkiem. It looks... different. There are birds in cages, wild plants and vintage odds and ends everywhere. Is this a milk bar? I order a portion of blueberry pierogi. The owner slides over a potato pancake “just to try” and I don’t argue. Students fill the place, zoned out behind computer screens and steaming plates. All up? 21 zloty. About $8.

Walk around Krakow and you can spot the signs: Bar Mleczny this, Bar Mleczny that. But between ramen joints and third-wave coffee, you have to wonder how long they’ll last.

Some milk bars still receive state support, but that’s shrinking along with foot traffic. “There’s tension,” Meadows says. “Some people want to keep them hidden, like a locals-only secret, but if no one knows about them, how do they survive?”

Milk bars aren’t racing to be the newest or coolest spot in town. They’re sticking to what they know best – good, honest food that’s been around forever. As Meadows puts it, they’re part history, part comfort food. And sometimes that’s exactly what you need.

THE DETAILS

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EAT
Most bar mleczny don’t take reservations or have websites. Opening hours can vary, though many serve breakfast, lunch and dinner. Here are a selection: Bar Mleczny Pod Temida, Bar Mleczny Centralny, Bar Pod Kopytkiem, Milkbar Tomasza, Bar Mleczny Poludniowy.

FLY
Qantas flies from Sydney to Zurich, Rome, and London with one stop. From there, you can fly direct to Krakow from cities such as London, Rome or Paris, or hop on a train from elsewhere in Europe. See qantas.com

STAY
Canvas House Fragola Apartments are a short tram ride from the Old Town. Self-contained apartments start from $230 a night. See fragolaapartments.pl

The writer travelled at her own expense.

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Original URL: https://www.watoday.com.au/traveller/inspiration/where-local-milk-bars-feel-more-like-soviet-ikeas-20250701-p5mblr.html