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Torches burn in front of the early 20th century Bucharest mansion. A black-cloaked doorman reminds guests that they "enter freely" and "of [their] own will." To words familiar to aficionados of Bram Stoker�s classic novel, Dracula, diners enter the Count Dracula Club, a theme restaurant situated, appropriately, in Romania�s capital.

A long-time fan of the novel, proprietor Mircea Poenaru has created an ambience faithful to the fictional anti-hero and to Stoker�s real-life inspiration, Vlad Tepes, aka Vlad Dracula, aka Vlad the Impaler, a 15th century Romanian prince who, while hardly a vampire, devised some ingenious ways of punishing his many enemies.

Each of the three dining salons features a distinct decor. In the Transylvania room, hand-carved chairs, service plates from the ceramics center of Corund, a ceiling of wooden shingles, and walls adorned with pottery, festival masks and cloth witches remind diners of the Count�s home turf.

In the Hunting Salon, the pelts of a wolf, a wild cat, a wild boar and a Carpathian bear cover the walls, along with the antlered head of a stag. All are from the collection of a man who lived and hunted in the area of the Borgo Pass, which the fictional Jonathan Harker crossed on his fateful visit to Dracula�s castle. Tables are carved of rough wood and chairs sport black woolen covers.

For an introduction to a major figure in Romanian history, a portrait of Vlad Tepes dominates the Medieval room. While the prince dealt harshly and often gruesomely with all he perceived as enemies, Tepes is revered by Romanians for his bravery against invading Turks and many resent Stoker�s portrayal of their hero as a vampire. Armor and crossed halberds, leased from Bucharest�s Military Museum, evoke the Medieval mood, as do engravings of 15th century battle scenes, an iron chandelier and heavy, silver plated service plates. A ceramic stove, or soba, stands against one wall.

Lined with photographs from Dracula films, a narrow staircase leads to a cellar level English pub, reminiscent of the Count�s London days, and to a small, book-filled Library. Beyond a secret door (a moveable wine rack), the Chapel houses, in addition to tables and chairs, a box filled with Transylvanian soil. This is Dracula�s daytime resting place.

Night, of course, is a different story. As guests sip such concoctions as Transformation, Elixir Dracula and Transylvania Night, the lights begin to dim and the air seems to chill. If diners move quickly, they might reach the Chapel in time to see the Count pushing back the cobwebs surrounding his coffin to emerge for his nightly prowl. First, though, he wanders through each room, presumably, checking out dinner possibilities.

Since, as Bram Stoker has told us, books are Dracula�s friends, he pauses in the Library, but no one occupies its one table that evening. Moving on to the English pub, he recalls pleasant days spent in 19th century London and smiles at a picture of the boat that brought him to England where he met Mina, his true love.

Happy to leave his solitude and mingle with guests, the Count mounts the narrow staircase as flames from the silver candelabrum in his hand cast flickering shadows on the walls. Reaching the Medieval room, he studies the portrait of his namesake and speaks of Vlad Tepes and the Order of the Dragon which was awarded to Vlad�s father, also known as Vlad Dracul.

Moving on to the Transylvania room, the Count, spying the masks and other traditional artifacts, reminisces about his native land and his beloved castle high in the Carpathian Mountains� Borgo Pass. "I�ve dined already," he tells his startled guests, a la Stoker, before moving on to the Hunting Salon.

As he listens to the howling of wolves and stares at the various skins and pelts covering the walls, Dracula recounts tales of hunting parties near his mountain home. "Listen to the children of the night. What music they make!" he exclaims, quoting, as always, his 19th century creator. Noticing that he is not alone, the Count inquires of his guests, "Do you prefer to hunt or be hunted?"

His head swirling with memories, Dracula puts a record on an ancient gramophone. But the sentimental music casts him into despair for it reminds him that Mina soon will marry another. With a swirl of his long black cloak and flowing white scarf, he takes his leave, hoping the dark streets of Bucharest will provide solace for an aching heart.

With their host now absent, diners� thoughts again return to the menu, which is a treat in itself as each item is named and described in Draculean words. Among the dozen or so hot and cold appetizers, diners can choose Professor�s Van Helsing�s favorite dish or lamb pastrami and polenta. The menu reminds diners that Van Helsing, the Count�s most fierce enemy, preferred dried beef with cheese, basil, garlic and olive oil while Vlad Dracula�s chef prepared the lamb dish for Mohammed II�s messengers, serving it just before their impalement.

Several sour soups are offered. As the menu explains, Transylvanian cuisine uses sour cream, tarragon and eggs in a variety of soups. The egg, it adds, is a symbol of resurrection and in earlier days, an egg was put in a loved one�s coffin.

Count Dracula�s special entrees include Devil�s Chicken in Hot Sauce ("Doubtless, there is something strange or magnetic in the sauce�s ingredients which works for life in a peculiar way," according to the menu) and Outlaws� Brochettes (in Jonathan Harker�s journal, he wrote "I dined on what they call �robber steak,� bits of bacon, onions and beef, seasoned with red pepper strung on sticks and roasted over the fire"). The Continental and Romanian offerings also feature several fish and game dishes. Tradition says that on St. George�s night, at the stroke of midnight, all the evil in the world has full sway. However, if one stays on a lake�s edge and sees a fish, he will be have luck throughout the year.

For dessert, clatite, a crepe filled with chocolate, fruit jam or cheese, shouldn�t be missed.

For several days before the restaurant�s grand opening in 1997, radio announcers tracked the progress of Dracula�s horse-drawn coach as it raced across the Transylvanian countryside toward the capital. As the Gypsy driver (as in the novel) drew up to the restaurant, boxes of Transylvanian earth were removed and carried into the Chapel. Before long, green smoke drifted through the room as the Count, in the person of a well-known Romanian actor, rose to join his guests.

When Poenaru is on the premises, he willingly explains the significance of each bit of decor, painstakingly collected over two years, to interested guests who might also ask him to relate a few behind-the-scenes stories about the opening. The coach, for instance. Poenaru quickly discovered such objects are not readily available. The first one he unearthed belonged to a film studio. It fell apart when the horses ran with it. Searches of area farms turned up plenty of wagons, but these were hardly proper vehicles for nobility. With only days to spare, Poenaru remembered the old funeral coaches, once a familiar sight on Bucharest streets. Following a lead from the city�s cemetery administration, he found just what he was looking for—a coach designed for carrying priests leading funeral processions. And just three days before the opening, the Count had wheels.

While ordinary mortals must settle for a less dramatic entry, an evening at the Count Dracula Club restaurant is certain to add a memorable note to a Romanian trip.

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