Hungry in Berlin

I’m ashamed of myself. The first time I passed Omoni (Kopenhagener Str. 14, Prenzlauer Berg), I saw the sign announcing that it was a Korean/Japanese restaurant and mentally went “Yeah, sure.” Like Thai sushi.

Um, let’s look at the history books. First of all, there’s ample (if suppressed) evidence that the earliest non-aboriginal inhabitants of the islands now known as Japan came from Korea. Second, Korea has had a contentious relationship with Japan over the centuries, including having been colonized by it from time to time. Third, a large number of Koreans live in Japan to this day, treated as second-class citizens, forced to change their names to common Japanese ones.

So, yeah. Korean and Japanese makes sense. Omoni certainly makes sense. It’s one of the best restaurants in Berlin. And, while they do make sushi, you really owe it to yourself to go beyond that point and seek out some of the sublime, subtle dishes elsewhere on the menu.

Let’s get the sushi over with first, though, since that’s what a lot of people go there for. The sushi chefs are masters — also, from what I can tell, the owners of the place. A fish truck pulls up at 5:15 most days and unloads a catch straight from the Pacific. If they don’t have something, it’s because it’s not fresh.

Since so much of sushi these days is dependent on innovation it’s easy to forget that simple nigiri is a test of an establishment’s stock. Buttery maguro is always a good sign, and that’s how Omoni’s tuna is. Some of this is about the quality of the fish selected, and some of it is about how it’s cut, and Omoni scores top marks on both.

Once you enter the world of maki, of rolls, however, you’re in fantasy land. The two standouts are the Kopenhagener roll — a fantasy of salmon, avocado, okra, and I don’t know what else — and the deceptively simple, but baroque taste and texture sensation of the tempura roll, in which a perfectly-fried tempura shrimp lurks crunchily at the center of the rice, while nori seaweed and a delicate dressing drizzled over the roll also play their parts. Both will give you a lot of food, which makes me sorry that Omoni isn’t open for lunch, but there are times when you just want a light dinner.

There are two other types of sushi on the menu which are rarely found outside of Japan. Oshizushi is made in a shallow wooden box into which the rice is placed, after which strips of raw fish are put on top of it. The whole is then pressed with a piece of wood just as big as the inside of the box, unmoulded, and cut into squares. Chirashi sushi is like deconstructed nigiri: the rice is put in a bowl and the fish is layered over it. Needless to say, Omoni does both of these right.

Okay, now that the obvious has been said, it’s time to consider the less obvious. Berliners seem to think that the Japanese subsist entirely on sushi, which is like thinking that Italians exist solely on ice cream. Going past the raw fish brings you to both the rest of the Japanese menu and the star of the show, the Korean cuisine.

Of course, I’m not conversant enough with food in Korea to be able to say when we’re dealing with a purely Korean dish and when we’re dealing with a Koreanized Japanese dish and when we’ve got a purely Japanese dish, so I’ll just plow on into the menu.

One great starter is miso soup, and there are four on the menu. My favorite is the Kyoto miso soup, with vegetables in it, although you may prefer a more austere beginning to a meal, particularly if you’re going for sushi. Another great start is with the seaweed salad, dressed lightly with a citrus-based dressing and sprinkled with white and black sesame seeds. And there are two starters which use kimchi, the Korean answer to sauerkraut — and a more satisfying answer for me most of the time because of its use of garlic and chile pepper. There’s a dish called kimchi tofu, which is just what it says: blocks of tofu topped with a startling kimchi and the obligatory sesame. The contrast between the bland tofu and the kimchi is stunning, and, again, this is a rather protein-heavy starter, so you might want to split it. Then there’s the gyoza-like kimchi-stuffed turnovers accompanied by a couple of green mussels, which use a less incendiary kimchi, but are very pleasing.

There’s no getting around the fact that some Korean words are funny, so stifle the laughter and order a bibimbab. This is a truly down-home dish, I’ve been told, and it sure seems that way. The vegetarian one at Omoni is a masterpiece. All bibimbabs start with a heavy iron bowl which is heated in an oven. Rice is put into it when it’s removed, and the rice is topped with a number of things, but basically vegetables, fried tofu, a raw egg, and a few dabs of chili sauce. This is then hurried to the table, where the diner takes a spoon and mixes it all together vigorously. What you’ve got then is a meal where every bite is different because of the combinations you pick up, not least the rice which has been at the outer edge by the hot iron and gotten crispy. There’s also a beef variety at Omoni which I keep forgetting to order.

Another funny word is ozing o, but spice fans should remember it because it’s squid fried in hot oil and put atop rice. It’s chewy, but not rubbery, and the sweet-fiery taste is deep.  Past that, there are tempura-and-rice combos, several nice fish donburi (rice with topping), and a number of tofu choices, as well as soba noodles, which I’m saving for a hot day.

Drinks, too, are interesting. There’s a Korean tea with roasted maize in it that’s naturally sweetened by the various other grains involved in the brew, and a couple of ginseng teas available. Korea’s top beer, OBI, is usually there, although I find it too sweet and with a decided chemical taste, an odd contrast to Omoni’s stated organic-when-available policy. (On the other hand, I’m sure it sells well to nostalgic Koreans). The sake selection isn’t very good, but then, it isn’t anywhere in Berlin, and there are a couple of white wines.

Prices? Well, it’s easy enough to spend €50 on a meal here if you attack the sushi menu hard enough. I also got out the other day with the kimchi tofu, ozing o, and a Radeberger for €12.90.  The crowd is wildly mixed, from terminal trendies to a healthy number of repeat locals.

Omoni is absolutely unique in Berlin, from what I can tell. The depth of its menu, the out-of-the-ordinary Korean selections, and the dedication of its staff and owners make it one of the finest places I’ve eaten in all the years I’ve lived here. The decoration is spartan, the seating is simple, but the results are right where they ought to be: on your plate. And they use very nice plates, too.

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