They conked out on the sleeper from Paris to Vienna and by morning were ready for a Wiener schnitzel class at the cookery salon of Wrenkh, a restaurant run by brothers Karl and Leo Wrenkh. In a warm kitchen, Karl taught the girls how to dice onions, butterfly veal and prep potato salad, while I did little but observe with a glass of wine in hand, noticing how children thrive when they feel useful. A jovial uncle used to minding Leo’s kids, Karl taught them how to deep-fry until golden, handing them tongs to whip out the crisp, sizzling schnitzel before laying the table.
But what’s a schnitzel without a strudel to follow? Back at the newly renovated Anantara Palais Hansen Vienna Hotel, we got elbow-deep in flour, cinnamon and sugar, learning to make Austria’s national dish under the tutelage of chef pâtissier Pierre Zani, who trained with Alain Ducasse. Teaching the girls to split and scrape vanilla pods, spin pastry on their knuckles and simmer custard, Zani gave them the space and confidence to bake arm-length strudels, which were devoured with thick hot chocolate on the side. After a swim in the spa’s hydropool, which, unlike those at a number of smart hotels, allows children from 10am to 4pm daily, we sought out the nearest park. I found that evening trips to playgrounds were key to keeping the girls busy, exercised and sociable: they befriended local children, language barriers proving no hindrance to sharing the universal joy of hide and seek, tag and foraging for leaves. The playgrounds also gave me respite: I read on a bench, glancing up occasionally as the girls exhausted themselves. As the Nightjet train service departed Vienna and thundered through the Alps towards Rome, they fell asleep on schedule.
