Look for a grand cream-colored corner building with ornate details and the word “HOTEL” crowned in yellow on the roof, right at the intersection with big windows and classic iron balconies-that’s Casa Capșa directly across from the street.
Now, imagine, you’re standing at the heartbeat of Bucharest’s old-world glamour! Welcome to Casa Capșa-a place where legends sipped coffee, secrets swirled in cigarette smoke, and a slice of cake might have had more drama than a theater. At the crossroads of Calea Victoriei and Edgar Quinet Street, the aroma of pastries might not be in the air right now, but trust me, this place has seen enough sugar and scandal for a whole city.
Back in the late 17th century, this corner was just the home and garden of a nobleman named Radu Slătineanu. Then, in 1830, an adventurous Italian chef with a name that was almost as spicy as his dishes-Eronimo Momolo-turned the downstairs into a lively tavern famous for exotic, Italian-Oriental flavors. Above, a glittering ballroom soon appeared, with the city’s prettiest parties and the swish of silk dresses echoing through the night.
But the real transformation happened in 1868, when brothers Constantin and Grigore Capșa got their hands on the building. Their first move? Open the “La doi frați, Constantin și Grigore Capșa” pastry shop-which quickly became the talk of Europe. As Constantin bowed out, Grigore kept growing the dream, adding a hotel in 1886 and, a few years later, the legendary Capșa Café. The treats? Parisian secrets brought back by Capșa’s chefs-brought hot off the boulevards of France, if you please.
Casa Capșa’s fame exploded-you had to be a “somebody” to get in! No bohemians allowed, only the city’s last aristocrats, public figures, and newspaper men plotting the fate of Romania or maybe just tomorrow’s headlines. That’s not to say there wasn’t occasional excitement. During World War I, Bulgarian officers even turned this fancy home of desserts into their mess hall. Imagine the surprise-soldiers slurping soup beneath golden chandeliers, pastries swapped for military rations.
After Grigore’s passing in 1931, the place kept changing hands and facing challenges, but always served the city’s most important banquets-both official and, let’s say, “off-the-record.” Chefs from Paris set strict rules: pastries from the day before became a cheap treat for staff, while fresh delights debuted daily. And each VIP visit meant a new dessert was invented, like the “joffre” bonbon for Marshal Joffre’s visit in 1920. Think of it: a new cake for every celebrity!
By the mid-20th century, times were less spectacular. Nationalized and renamed, Capșa lost its sparkle, but after restoration in the 1970s and rebirth in the 1990s, it was the haunt of writers, artists, professors-Bucharest’s brains and dreamers. As poet Virgil Carianopol put it, “to become a writer, you needed the Capșa baptism”-no pubs, no stuffy boards, just the magical whiff of fresh pastry and pending fame.
So now, pause and listen. If these walls could talk, you’d hear political plots, romantic whispers, birthday toasts, and maybe, just maybe, the crack of a crème brûlée shell. Welcome to the scene of countless stories-Casa Capșa, where history, art, and dessert collide!
