Hungry in Berlin

So, we came; we got crushed; we griped about it. Green Week at the ICC in Charlottenburg (runs through Sunday, Jan. 27) made me and the rest of the HIB team feel like cows in a herd, and offered no surprises in the way of world cuisine. While I’m well aware that most world cultures have some form of mystery meat that comes cylinder-shaped, I refuse to believe that’s the only delicacy we have to share with each other, as a form of how-do-you-do. Eaters of the world (and organizers of Green Week, listen up!), we can do better than this. I’ve never seen more sausage, air-dried, pepper-spiced, boiled or canned, than in the halls of the hulking ICC; and yes, I know I live in Germany. And while I realize that sausage travels better than, say, Peking duck or lamb on a spit or injera bread, it sells a culture short when the image they present is the one they think the audience wants to see. And that’s what makes me sad. The Green Week in Berlin is a fantastic opportunity to show how worldly and gastronomically savvy this city *could* (and should) be. But what’s on offer now falls embarrassingly short of even the most muted expectations. Read the rest of this entry »

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.

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A smart salesman starts off with a heavy hitter. On this particular afternoon, Heribert Kastell‘s first punch was his 15-percent alcohol Chardonnay. Not that the HIB team isn’t a group of seriously seasoned, er, professionals — but having weathered this powerful white wine from this equally seasoned and extremely talented Rheingau winemaker, we were primed and ready for a serious afternoon of German wine discovery. How lucky we were that Kastell was our guide.

One of the most frequent refrains I’ve heard in my short time here in the hauptstadt is, “I don’t like German wine.” Which I typically translate to mean, “I don’t understand German wine.” German wine labels can be impenetrable and intimidating; grape varieties often unfamiliar; and flavors potentially off-putting, as the common misconception that all German white wines are cloyingly sweet still lives on. Enter Heribert Kastell. Read the rest of this entry »

You can always tell when we’re in the depths of winter in Berlin. No, not just by the short photoperiod, nor the pasty faces of the folks in the street. Not even the notoriously fickle temperature is the main clue. Instead, it’s the posters showing up all over town for this year’s International Green Week, the food trade show that started in 1926 and is now enjoying its 73rd go-round between Jan. 18 and 27 at the ICC conference center. Green Week can be fun. It can also be a nightmare. I’ve been to at least ten of them, and I’ve pretty much run the gamut. I’ve discovered great stuff to eat, but never eaten anything memorable at the show itself. I’ve come across amazing products, only to never see them again. I’ve gotten amazing bargains, and bought stuff that I found a week later for half the price in my local supermarket. Each year I hope for the presence of a few exhibitors: the guy who makes sausage that’s damn near exactly Cajun sausage (but, being German, he has no idea he’s doing this); the Tunisians selling astonishing cheap olive oil; the Italian guy with the Barolo-soaked salame, so good on pizza. I also hope to make new discoveries as good as these, but, alas, in recent years it hasn’t happened. There are two major problems with Green Week, and they seem to be eternal. One is food, the other alcohol. Or maybe there’s just one problem: people. Rarely do any exhibitors set out samples. Read the rest of this entry »

It’s that time of year. A time where any hungry Berliner can waltz down to practically any corner of the city and be assaulted with Christmas celebrations—and of course, Christmas snacks. Weihnachtsmärkte (Christmas outdoor markets) all over Germany are both tradition and spectacle, chock-full of carnival rides, holiday gifts only a Frankish oma could love, and a feast of food from the good-for-you grünkohl to the decadent and undoubtedly (if not gradually) deadly schmalzkuchen.

There are a few standbys that will be familiar to anyone who’s spent lazy afternoons in biergartens, yet Weihnachtsmärkte also offer a set menu geared just for the season. Bratwurst, either moderately sized or in half-meter lengths, are in abundance; so is steak on a stick and boulette im brot. Pfanne, or sautéed foods done up in an obscenely large paella-styled skillet, are plenty: mushrooms with sauce, the aforementioned grünkohl and accompanying chicken livers (a combo that may have some historical significance, but all I can figure out is that both are rich in Vitamin A, which can aid night vision—quite necessary during Berlin’s long, dark winter days) and “asia” items, usually noodles or fried rice. Fried dough, in all its gorgeous forms, however, is the symbol of the season: our faves are listed after the jump.

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First in what will be an ongoing series of pointers to culinary events, curiosa, and cooking news too small to merit their own posts.

I have trouble figuring out what Goldhuhn und Sampson are all about, since the store’s stock has never cohered into a recognizable gestalt for me, but they do frequently offer some interesting tastings, one of which is coming up on Saturday starting at noon. A selection of Japanese green teas will be offered in a tasting, along with “ice tea, shakes, and sweets,” according to their press release. (I wonder if they’ll have maccha, the finely-powdered green tea used in the traditional tea ceremony, which breakaway cook Eric Gower mixes with salt for one of his famous “flavor blasts.”) Someone there seems to think drinking hot tea in the summer is odd, but when I was in Japan one September, cold green tea was routinely offered as refreshments in the better stores (for instance in the market in Kyoto while I was waiting to have the knife I’d just bought perfectly sharpened). No idea about the “shakes,” though.

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I’ve never seen a country with a larger variety of dairy products as Germany has (Josh has only scratched the surface with his “cream” post), and I’ve always enjoyed the wide variety of cream cheese (Frischkäse) available here. Current favorite is Exquisa’s Frischkäse des Jahres, which is Alsatian Flammekuche. If you’ve never had a Flammekuche, which is a kind of variation of pizza on a cracker-thin crust topped with cheese, onions, and/or ham and/or other stuff, you should find one immediately. Exquisa’s take on it isn’t quite as good as they make at, say, Gugelhof, but it’s good enough that it’s not only this year’s cream cheese of the year, it was last year’s, too. I say lose the dorky chef from the packaging and make it a regular.

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Like beer? Disappointed in the local take on Oktoberfest? Then you need to know about the Berlin International Beer Fest, a tradition that goes back a decade. Presented in the shadow of the magnificent Soviet-era model apartment buildings on Karl-Marx-Allee in Friedrichshain, it’s an orgy of beer drinking and eating whose sheer variety puts that Bavarian thing in the shade. After all, down in Munich they have all those crappy rides and the rules about sitting down, not to mention some of the most horrible music ever committed by Germans. Here, it’s all about the beer. True, the vast majority are German beers, but you can buy a mug and get samples at good low prices, and the snacks include excellent smoked fish along with the usual grilled Nackensteaks. Okay, there’s crappy music, too, but after a couple of Chinggis beers from Mongolia it won’t sound that bad.

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Speaking of beer, I’ve just found out that this year’s Brauerfest in Friedrichshagen will be on Sept. 1 and 2. This is not only a chance to check out Berliner Bürgerbraü’s range of beers and buy a couple of their incredibly tasteless garden gnomes, but it’s a chance to see a bit of Berlin you never knew existed. Friedrichshagen was a village until the DDR decided to annex it into the city of Berlin, and it still has, right along its main street, original Brandenburg farmhouses. The brewery is the oldest family-owned one in Berlin, and it celebrates like crazy — as does the whole town. Perched as it is on the good-sized Müggelsee, the brewery offers boat rides, and there are plenty of other events going on. It’s one of my favorite events of the year.

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Yeah, yeah, we all know Brad Pitt ate at Bandol the other night, but he was just confirming that Torstr. between Rosenthaler Platz and Oranienburger Tor is the new Restaurant Row. A select list as you walk east to west:

Lara and Ipanema at 164; Russian and Brazilian food, respectively, in the former Royal Pawnshop. The latter, at least, has a good reputation.

Bandol, 164; creepy vibe, odd menu (now posted outdoors on a tree, although frequently washed away by rain). What’s up with all the fish cassoulet?

La Grotta Azura, 171; a hidden treasure. Crazy Neapolitans cook stuff and serve it to you. The menu isn’t much help, the lady who runs the place doesn’t really speak German, and the food is excellent — and not very expensive, given its quality.

Inoshishi, 176; not open yet, the website promises “sushi and warm food.” The latter half of that proposition is of interest.

Kim Qui, 179; North Vietnamese food of very high quality, served up by a friendly couple who’ve made this a neighborhood standby.

Kusch, 182; a “Sudanese and African” imbiss, with couscous and falafel of various sorts, and the ubiquitous foul, which is beans. Good beans.

Toca Rouge, 195; needs no further publicity. You haven’t been? Try getting a table to taste this remarkable Chinese-Japanese-Martian cuisine.

Zum Alten Tor, 221; looks like it’s been there since the DDR. Only my fear of MSG in traditional German restaurants has kept me out. Anybody been?

Mali Imbiss, 224; not, as it turns out, Malian food, although proprietor Gjilizade Osmani seems to hail from there. Lava-stone-cooked burgers and steaks, pasta, and other oddities. Haven’t tried it yet because it’s just opened.

Not to forget that around each corner lurks YumMee, Friedrichstr. 116, Berlin’s only bánh mi Vietnamese sandwich shop, which completely rocks (and has an Internet cafe for those in need of one) and Good Time, the excellent Thai-Indonesian place at Chausseestr. 1.

And that’s just a smattering.

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