On my way to Oslo by train, the first stop is Vienna. Scrolling through Happy Cow, I stumble on Soula, a restaurant that opened in March 2026.
It's tucked away on a small cobblestone side street, with a modest terrace set up on the sidewalk outside, but the inside feels surprisingly spacious at first glance. There are two generous rooms — the first with the bar, the second a touch darker, but with an outlet for my phone, which had almost died.
The person who greets me tells me the kitchen doesn't open until 11:30, even though the restaurant itself opens at 11. I get the menu and start with a decaf caramel latte.
I hesitate between the goulash and the ravioli, and let the waitress make the call. I go with the ravioli filled with tofu and sage, already picturing crispy fried sage leaves on the plate. I'm wrong.
A space with a clear visual identity
While my food is being prepared, I take in the design. The walls are done in Venetian plaster, in warm, gilded-grey tones. The white ceiling plays off against exposed red ductwork. Modern filament bulbs and a round wall lamp cast a soft, diffused light that makes the whole place feel private, almost intimate.
Furniture-wise, there's a coat rack, wooden tables and chairs, and an imposing red sofa running the length of an entire wall — which is where I end up sitting. Above me hangs the restaurant's name in lit-up letters: SOULA.
Sweetish, delicate ravioli, made in-house
The food arrives faster than I expect. From the very first bite of ravioli, the sage — finely chopped and scattered on top — bursts through. Right behind comes the sweetness from the pear crowning it. A creamy, salty butter sauce cuts through some of that sweetness.
The tofu cream filling has a nice bit of texture to it and does a convincing impression of cottage cheese. Tasted on its own, though, it comes across a bit sweet too — I'd guess there's some pear worked into the tofu as well. I would have liked something more sour and umami-forward instead. Luckily, every so often, a spark of pink peppercorn makes up for it.
I do have to give credit to the technique behind these ravioli, made from scratch in-house. The pasta sheets are rolled paper-thin, which gives you small, delicate parcels. A few whole, crisped sage leaves on top would have taken the dish even further.
The side salad: an unidentified bouquet
In the middle of the plate, a generous salad keeps the ravioli company. There are plenty of herbs I don't recognize, so I spend a good while trying to identify them — long enough that the waitress comes by twice to check that everything's alright. I assure her it is, and explain why I'm taking so long to eat.
I try an online plant identification app for the salad, though it gets things wrong here and there. Fennel fronds and arugula are definitely in there, possibly some beet greens too, plus a few leaves that look like carrot tops. They taste slightly bitter, and some have a stringy texture — a sign they were picked a bit too mature.
What I don't get is why they went with a sweetish dressing for the salad too. I would have gone straight for something tangier, with a bit of mustard, to balance out all that pervasive sweetness.
Flavor balance aside, I have to say this unusual salad, elegantly finished with edible flowers, had me fascinated.
A few other things I noticed
The sign outside reads zero-proof. I assumed at first it had something to do with zero waste, but the menu sets me straight — it just means alcohol-free. A shame it's only lunchtime, otherwise I'd have tried one of their more creative wines or cocktails.
You might be wondering what all this costs. I'd already read online that the prices run a bit high. The ravioli are 21 euros, the coffee 5.50. Given how the place is decked out and how many staff they have on hand, though, I can see where that comes from. The waitress mentioned business is already going well, even though they've only just opened.
As for a score, I'd give it 4.5 out of 5 stars. A few minor tweaks to the food, the textures, and the flavor balance, and it would easily hit 5.
Elsewhere in Vienna
I ended up at Soula because another spot, Café Roza, was closed despite what Google Maps had promised. But on my way to the station, I give it another shot. I'd had my eye on it because it's a queer, feminist café, even if not a vegan one. Even so, the host adapts a shakshuka for me, swapping the eggs for tofu. Taste-wise, nothing spectacular — decent, at best. I'll let the photos tell the rest of the story, since there isn't much more to say on the flavor front.
And to make sure I had something for dinner on the train, I swing by Pizzi & Cream and get two slices to go — one with mock tuna, one Mediterranean-style. I eat them cold, and end up liking the mock tuna one better. I've written about this place before, here.
Last stop: Velani - traditional food, vegan version
On my way back, I stop at Velani, a restaurant that markets itself as traditional food, made vegan. Two weeks in, I'm already running low on enthusiasm for both traveling and writing reviews, and it shows in how little attention I'm paying to the details.
The terrace in front of Velani, set up over what used to be parking spots, has about ten simple tables, with the boulevard traffic as background noise. This is where I wait fifteen minutes for the place to open, at 4 pm.
Inside, the space is generous: a small room at the entrance, then a large one with over thirty seats. The decor isn't unpleasant, but it doesn't quite win me over either — probably down to the plastic plants, both the hanging ones and the tulips on the tables. Thankfully, there's jazz playing in the background.
I order a tamarind lemonade and enjoy both the concept and the taste: sweet, slightly tart, with an unexpected twist at the end — and a glass straw.
I don't know what I'm thinking ordering both soup and goulash at the same table, but they're the only two dishes I'm curious about. The soup arrives quickly: one large dumpling sitting in a clear broth with onion, carrot, and celery. It tastes full-bodied despite how clear the broth looks. The dumpling seems to be made from some kind of gluten dough with tofu and possibly beans, judging by the little brown flecks.
The goulash shows up just as fast — a generous portion of textured soy in a brown vegetable sauce, with three slices of baguette drizzled with a greenish oil. The plate is scalding hot. On the first bite, I pick up a mix of spices I can't quite place, on the salty side. It's a good, decent combination, but not a spectacular one — hence the 3.5 out of 5 score for the whole experience.
By the end, I'm overheating completely — partly from the soup, partly from Vienna's own heat, which I leave behind with the relief of knowing I haven't missed my train.
