The city's best seafood restaurant is in the Radisson Blu Alcron, a stately New Town hotel where many journalists, artists, and world leaders stayed during the city's interwar golden age. Reservations are essential, as Alcron is only open for dinner on weeknights and there are just seven small tables in a single semicircular room. Plush burgundy and jade set a sophisticated tone, while vibrant Jazz Age murals enliven the background. Chef Jiri Stift sends out harmonious appetizer combinations such as seared scallops with porcini mushrooms and braised veal breast with langoustines. Main courses take it up a notch, including T-bone-size fillets of John Dory and a duo of steamed halibut and Brittany lobster. One eight-course menu is dedicated to lobsters, prawns, and crayfish. It all adds up to a pretty big wow for Eastern Europe, not least of which is the bill.

Open Mondays through Fridays 5:30 to 10:30 pm.

Sorry, Moscow: The first Michelin star in all of post-Communist Europe was awarded to this restaurant inside Prague's Four Seasons hotel in early 2008. Chef Andrea Accordi's take on contemporary Italian and Continental cuisine occasionally reveals a pronounced Central European influence: Taleggio cheese is served with fragrant elder-blossom foam and the trio of foie gras includes a pan-fried version served with Czech black beer. Accordi also takes advantage of the finest ingredients from around Europe, such as Alba truffles, Challans ducks, foie gras from the Périgord, and Manni olive oil, the world's most expensive. The extensive, predominantly Italian wine list appeals to big spenders, listing Super-Tuscans separately from mere Tuscans. Even the bread service is remarkable: a big basket of fluffy focaccia, crisp grissini, sliced pumpkin-seed rye, rich raisin-walnut, and on and on. The ho-hum interior with wood-paneled walls is straight out of a country club, but there's a postcard view of Prague Castle from the terrace.

British-Malaysian chef Sofia Smith offers her own interpretations of Asian classics at this Old Town restaurant. Dishes don't lack for spice: duck salad with hot-and-sour chile, Balinese fish cakes with lemongrass, or whole roasted baby chicken in Cambodian red curry. Angel's soft lighting and comfy banquettes create a laid-back feel similar to a pre-party lounge; a steady crowd of regulars adds to the friendly, neighborly vibe of a place where everyone knows everyone.

Located on Vinohrady's linden-lined Manesova Street, a kind of gourmet ghetto with interesting restaurants, cafés, and bars, Aromi is an ode to owner Riccardo Lucque's home region of Marche. The menu skips across the whole of Bella Italia for inspiration and changes seasonally, but you might find Neapolitan seafood, pumpkin risotto, linguine with tuna meatballs, and the best lamb tagliata between here and Trieste. All that and a wine list that sweeps from Sicily to Piedmont keep the bustling exposed-brick dining rooms filled to capacity. Despite the discerning clientele, this is an informal trattoria in the great Italian tradition—you may be seated between the U.S. ambassador and a crowd of students out on the town. Dinner here is a whole-evening affair, but leave enough time at the end of the night for a plate of Marche cheeses, served with crispy bread from Sardinia and orange marmalade made by Riccardo's mother.

Restaurateur Nils Jebens is best-known for haute cuisine stalwarts Kampa Park, Square, and Hergetova Cihelna, but this, his newest destination and the city's only real steakhouse, is probably the most fun. Just below Prague Castle, this cellar dining room has exposed brick arches and multilevel seating platforms that help create an airy, spacious feel (there's also an elevated outdoor terrace). Though most come for steaks (tender filet mignon, juicy entrecôte, rich rib eyes, and perfectly charred T-bones) and bar classics (Buffalo wings and Caesar salads), there's also a superb wine list, trumpeted by floor-to-ceiling displays of Rhône, Languedoc, and Burgundy vintages. (The house Frankovka from Hort is surprisingly good for a Czech red, and nicely priced at $20.) Even vegetarians will do well here, as Cowboys' meatless portobello mushroom burger arguably upstages its beefy cousin.

We love the new Hilton Prague Old Town, but we've never been fans of the chain's original location, with its out-of–Old Town location and Communist architecture. But for traditional Bohemian cooking gone large, the main Hilton's CzecHouse restaurant is the hands-down winner. Look for tender svickovna smetane (beef tenderloin in a sour-sweet cream sauce) made from the great 19th-century Czech cookbook author Magdalena Dobromila Rettigová's recipe. Beef goulash made with dark Krusovice beer is also a local fave. The space is airy and well-lit after a 2006 redesign shook off almost all remaining traces of the hotel's pre-'89 decor. The restaurant's wall of fame puts culinary achievements into context with images of Czech athletes, from Olympic freestyle skier Aleš Valenta to running legend Emil Zátopek.

When the floods of 2002 washed away what was then an eight-year-old hot spot near the Charles Bridge, in an odd way, they did the place (and owner Nils Jebens) a favor. The major renovations that ensued turned out to be a huge success. Now, diners will find dining room chairs that look like garden rakes and whimsical light fixtures (the decor is more subdued in the salon). The riverside garden terrace is also bigger and better. The best views in town continue to attract celebs passing through (Matt Damon while filming The Brothers Grimm, for instance), as do reliable Euro dishes, such as beef carpaccio (surely the unofficial national dish by now); olive oil–poached cod with sea urchin risotto; and seared venison with parsnip, figs, peaches, and foie gras.

When the well-loved Café Atelier changed hands in 2005, chef Rudolf Dolezal jumped ship and landed at this recent arrival with perfect timing: Like his old post, Oliva serves excellent Mediterranean cuisine at moderate prices. The menu changes frequently, but you can count on at least one variation on foie gras (sautéed with chanterelles, perhaps) among the starters, fresh fish specials, and hearty traditional fare—beef, lamb, or rabbit—given a lighter, French-inspired refinement. But don't forget the eponymous olives: Six uncommon types are listed on the appetizer menu, and the three little bowls on the table are for comparing Greek, Spanish, and Italian oils from boutique producers. Though the decor is polished—olive-green walls, spot lighting, and a shimmering veil of hanging beads—jeans and a t-shirt will fit in just fine.

Closed Sundays.

This is the best place in Prague to indulge czarist fantasies and play at 17th-century aristocratic life—or to stage a marriage proposal. The building, which dates from the 1600s, went through various incarnations before settling into its current role as the Prague Conservatory. Enter the gorgeously faded candlelit grandeur of the second-floor restaurant (the former student dining halls) via a spectacular sweeping staircase, and take your place for the nightly theater of formal service. Or, if it's summer, go for the terrace overlooking the Prague Castle gardens. The novo-Euro dishes are mostly very good and not priced to rip off tourists (this is just as much a locals' place). A head of roasted garlic arrives with the bread, then it's on to dishes such as mushroom- and truffle-stuffed quail with kumquat sauce, minted lamb seasoned with smoked salt, or seared tuna with tomato-olive compote (the menu changes three times per year). It's a dress-up evening, but not in the manner of grand-hotel dining rooms—this is decadent chic in a palace that has seen better days.

Wine lovers will do fine with Czech whites from good producers such as Dobra Vinice, but the Czech lands are home to the world's first Pilsners, Budweisers, and Michelobs. Beer (a.k.a. pivo), by far the country's favorite beverage, regularly appears at breakfast, lunch, and even gala dinners. Since 1466, U Medvidku ("At the Little Bears") has been the city's pub of choice, though not until 2005 did it open a microbrewery that ages semidark lagers in old-style oak barrels. The downstairs restaurant serves the Czech version of Budweiser (Budvar) along with hearty fare—smoky Czech-style goulash that's less oily than the Hungarian original, massive broiled pork knuckles, and traditional beef tenderloin in sour-cream gravy. Just thirsty? Seek out the separate beer bar, which pours regional brews. But be warned: An evening here usually includes traditional Bohemian folk music, and you just might end up dancing.