Hungry in Berlin

One of the big disappointments Americans, at least, seem to suffer when they come to Europe is the quality of Chinese food here. No matter if it’s France (where “Chinese” means “Chinese-Vietnamese”) or Holland (where “Dutch Chinese” is a recognized and well-loved bastardization) or Germany, what’s on offer in those odd restaurants is puzzling. (The only exception I’ve found is in certain restaurants in the Chinatowns of London and Manchester, particularly the latter, where relatively authentic fare can be tracked down).

The fact is, in Germany, Chinese food has been swallowed up by so-called “Asia” food, which is available all over the place, yet is barely edible. (There are a couple of authentic Chinese restaurants here, but that’s a post for another day). It seems to be, like chop suey, something invented by the Chinese to feed to natives who find the real thing too weird to contemplate.

No, if you want good Chinese food in Berlin, you’re going to have to make it yourself. Happily, many of us who’ve spent time on the East or West Coast have learned the mysteries of the wok, and can do this with the help of a good cookbook or two (yet another post for another day).

That leaves the question of where to get the ingredients.

Fortunately, Berlin is blessed with two large chains of “Asia” grocery stores. Learning to navigate them takes a bit of work, but pretty much anything you need for Chinese or Vietnamese food can be obtained here.

The elephant of the two is Asia-Mekong, Europe’s largest oriental food market chain. There are at least two of them here, one in Alexanderplatz, the other at Kantstr. 163-164. Asia-Mekong specializes in dry goods, although their vegetables aren’t to be sneered at. Their immense purchasing power means that prices are kept low, and their focus on serving the Chinese and Vietnamese communities in Europe means the selection is good. Such items as dried mushrooms, noodles, rices, sauces, rice papers, flavorings, and teas are well stocked and varied. They have a good basic supply of frozen seafood and other items, and a servicable range of Indian spices. Their vegetables and fresh herbs, too, are top-quality, and, again, the range is fairly good, albeit not really comprehensive. There are frequent sales of green goods which have just come in, so it pays to go back often. I can almost always find what I’m looking for with a trip to their Alexanderplatz store. From what I can figure out, they seem to have branches in most major German cities, which is convenient.

Smaller in corporate size, but proving a formidable competitor, is Vinh-Loi, which has several stores here, most notably at Ansbacher Str. 16 in Schöneberg, Rheinstr. 45 in Steglitz, and their huge supermarket on Seestr. in Wedding, right by the exit of the Seestr. U-Bahn. Vinh-Loi has at its disposal a network of farms in Holland, which grows herbs, vegetables, and greens such as water spinach for them, and every Thursday, the store in Wedding is packed with shoppers who know that that’s the day the trucks roll in from Holland. It also seems to be connected with the Vinh-Loi seafood processing company in Vietnam, because its range of frozen seafood is stunning. It has more varieties of rice than Asia-Mekong, and has them in larger units, and also has a bewildering selection of noodles.

Another plus is the good selection of cooking equipment: I was baffled that Asia-Mekong doesn’t sell woks, for instance, but you can get a good spun steel one, in several sizes, at Vinh-Loi. (If, that is, they’ll sell them to you: I was refused a sale by a formidable woman at the cash register once because she claimed I didn’t know how to clean it and she was damned if she was going to take back a cracked wok from some German — as she supposed I was — who had mistreated it. I settled for one of the €5 woks from Ikea, not at all a bad substitution, as it turned out.)

Vinh-Loi falls down on the sauces available — although they have some that aren’t available at Asia-Mekong, confusingly enough: I was looking for a jar of fermented black bean and chili sauce for a Vietnamese dipping sauce, and found it there. Examination of the label by a Chinese-reader led to the discovery that this is the Hunan chili-bean sauce I never thought I’d find here; to complicate things further, it has a camel on its label and is made in Taiwan. Each chain sells different brands, too, so you might find one without MSG at one chain, and not at the other. Vinh-Loi has one other distinction: no annoying Viet-pop on the sound system. No sound system at all, in fact.

Both chains also carry a decent basic supply of Thai groceries, although I suspect a Thai specialty market lurks out there.

If neither one of these chains has an outlet near where you live, don’t despair: plenty of “Asia Markt” places buy from the wholesale wing of one or the other, and although it’ll be marked up, that bottle of Chinkiang vinegar or Flying Fish brand fish sauce you need for that recipe might be hiding in the back of the vegetable shop on your corner or the place with the tacky waving golden cats in the window.

I’ve also heard about a Vietnamese wholesale market in Friedrichshain, with pho stands and lots of fresh vegetables, but my spy and I haven’t made it out there. At some point, I’ll be posting about some of these wholesale/retail ethnic markets around town, because serious cooks want to buy where the restaurants do.

Unfortunately, Japanese cooks are pretty well out of luck here. The heavy reliance on fresh fish and non-standard vegetables in that cuisine and the small number of Japanese in Berlin mean that the demand’s not there. Daruma, on Uhlandstr. 61, is the only reliable source for Japanese ingredients here, and although they’re incredibly friendly and helpful, the stock is small. And I have yet to find a Korean specialist, although my near-total ignorance of Korean cuisine might have something to do with this.

Don’t be put off by the European blanket term “Asia,” or even your neighbors’ total ignorance of the difference between, say, Thailand and Japan (they can’t help it, what with all the “Thai Sushi” places around town). Gently explain to them that the staple starch of China is, indeed rice, not noodles (an otherwise brilliant woman with a Master’s degree took issue with me on this and refused to believe I was right; I was stunned), then take down the cleaver, start the wok over the fire, get out the peanut oil and the mushroom soy and get to work. It’s being a good neighbor, and, as they say in some parts of Asia, good karma, too.

ew

Tags: ingredient, market, recipe, restaurant, spices, vegetable

Related posts

• Auf ins Vergnügen!!! (0)
• Hungry in Berlin? (5)
• Cheating At Curry (5)
• DIY Mexican: A Cinco de Mayo feast, part uno (3)
• Viva (Centro) Italia! (4)

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.