Hungry in Berlin

Crowds are not my thing. Eating in the company of tens of thousands of other people confuses me; I get wide-eyed, the old fight-or-flee kicks in, and since neither alternative is particularly appropriate, I begin scowling at everybody until they shrivel into ashes or get out of my way. For this reason Grünewoche, a packed-to-the-rafters food convention, isn’t my ideal setting for sampling the culinary wares of the world.

But there’s a remedy. Bulgarian plum brandy, or slivovica. As will become evident, Peasant Glasses and I have a particular fondness for Eastern Europe’s (multi)national drink, and neither one of us had ever tried the Bulgarian variety. Thus, after €1.50 and a sip of surprisingly smooth spirit, darker and more oddly whiskey-like than some of the others I’ve sampled, all begin falling into place. I think it was aged in wood, although our halting, semi-shouting conversation with the stand’s proprietor failed to confirm this. Good stuff, and worth trying, if you’re a fellow aficionado.

Nerves settled, it was time to turn to our official HIB plan: figure out a €20 euro menu and stick to it.

The conference is immense, with every visiting country offering samples and products for sale, but little of it is free. The trick is to spend, and sample wisely. The event’s strengths are foods from German-speaking regions, particularly Germany and Austria, and its quality falls off sharply (while the stereotype quotient rises) with the distance from the Alps. Asian foodstuffs are particularly poorly represented, with Vietnam’s booth selling touristy straw hats and China Pfanne meals (for non-Berlin readers, the equivalent of very poorly made chop suey in the States), and the China section offering tea from a teabag, and a few odd cross-stitching sets. Even poor Australia was offering kangaroo goulash and crocodile stew.

However, scattered among the wurst and stereotypes are real finds. Here’s my menu:

A €1 sample of Belorussian vodka, if only because Belarus needed visitors. Unlike any other stand, their offerings were comprised almost exclusively of tinned goods, stacked very prettily in pyramids, proudly upholding the Soviet culinary tradition.

A €3.50 Hungarian Langos – a lightly fried mass of potato dough, covered with cheese and ham bits. I can’t say much for the ham, but the fried part was lovely. I think this is where elephant ears in the States, my favorite county-fair food, comes from.

A package of 20 Azerbaijani snails, Alsatian style, with the meat removed and blended with garlic, butter, and herbs. €5 Euros. I didn’t try them, but they looked delicious.

A €1 sample of black Hungarian caviar, on dark bread. If you spend slightly more, you get a larger sample, and the vodka is free.

From Canada, individual North American-style flapjack pancakes, just large enough to fit individually on a small paper plate, with real maple syrup. €1 apiece, or 3 for €2.50. Thoroughly weird.

A €2.50 plate of Fried Kochbanane, or plantains, from Ghana. I am a sucker for plantains, will eat them anywhere, anytime. These were lovely, if slightly more salty than I’m used from eating them Cuban-style.

And to round things out, a Hungarian Damensalami. I had never heard the distinction between “Damensalami” and “Herrensalami” before, and according to the Internet, it may not exist. Of course we had our various anatomical theories while drinking a Czech beer across from the sausage stand, but I asked, and tasted. A Damensalami is less “kräftig” than its male counterpart, and indeed it was slightly lighter, not as dense as the Herren. Both were full of lovely paprika heat. I’ll take them both. I’m bi-wurstig, you see.

Green Week lasts through Sunday. Tickets cost €12.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.