Hungry in Berlin

A specter is looming over German cuisine: the specter of monosodium glutamate.

Now, it’s not my intention to get into the usual thrash about whether MSG is bad for you or not. You’re you, and only you can answer that question. Me, I’m very reactive to the stuff and always have been. Further, I have high blood pressure (as might you: it has no symptoms, and a huge percentage of the population has it, undiagnosed), and the sodium in MSG sets it off. I managed to live through three weeks in Japan, eating it, most likely, three meals a day, seven days a week (except for the day I found an Indian restaurant near my hotel and decided that sounded like a good idea — although it, too, might have used MSG).

MSG, despite its fearsome-looking name, is a natural side-product of the fermentation of soy to make soy sauce, and a chemical which occurs naturally in seaweeds, most notably kelp, or what the Japanese call kombu, one of the two ingredients (the other is shaved bonito) used in making dashi, the broth at the basis of Japanese cuisine. It has traditional uses, and is at the center of the sensation (or fifth taste) called umami.

That’s not what’s bothering me. What’s bothering me is how it’s taken over German cuisine in the past 20 years. Read the rest of this entry »

Now that we’re finally cruising in the 20-degree Celsius band and the parks are packed to overflowing on the weekends, summer wines are in order. I like that there’s a decent market in larger-sized wine bottles — and the wine’s often of a quality that’s definitely higher than the swill we guzzled during high school (bring on the Hearty Burgundy!) My idea of a good summer wine is one that’s got some good acidity (like lemonade; juicy and refreshes the palate), light in alcohol and if possible, under 5 Euro a bottle. Here’s two recent finds that we’re enjoying — if you’ve some recommendations, let us know in the comments below.

Veit Gruner Veltliner 2007, Austria: This 1-liter bottle was shoved in John’s hands last weekend, with the insistence from our very favorite wine dude that “It’s the perfect summer wine!” Well, for 4.50 Euro, it was hard to argue. This Qualitatswein offers a good combo of green apple and lychee flavors, and isn’t too heavy (12.5% alcohol). Although the wine’s label claims it’s good with “Wiener Schnitzel” (props to the home team there), I’m pretty sure it will do the job with lighter dishes quite nicely. Find it at Sonnenreich at Arnimplatz, Seelowerstr. 6.

Le Pavot Rosé 2007, Vin de Pays de l’Aude, France: This kills a couple birds with one bottle — it’s crisp and refreshing, it’s cheap (4.95 Euro) and it’s bio. The Aude is a river that runs west-east through the western Languedoc; the vineyards have been organically certified Ecocert (no mean feat in France) since 2002. It’s a gorgeous deep pink and tastes and smells like super-ripe strawberries (blend of Grenache and Mourvédre methinks). Uncomplicated and easy to sip. At the bioladen Kiepert & Kutzner at Schönhauser Allee 65 (in the wine section, very lower shelf.)

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. Read the rest of this entry »

It’s just gotta be the best lunch bargain in town: a plate of 40 steamed Chinese dumplings, the form of dim sum known as jiao-zi, for ten Euros.

Hand-made, stuffed with ground pork with shrimp, ground pork with celery, ground pork with cabbage, and spinach, these are the same basic dumplings Americans know as pot-stickers. And you can eat them until you just about burst, dipping them in a sauce you mix at the table made up of black vinegar and home-made chili oil.Where? At Wok Show, Greifenhagener Str. 31, corner of Kugelstr., in the northern reaches of Prenzlauer Berg. The proprietors have been in Germany for 18 years, in this location for eight months, and word of mouth has spread not only to the local Chinese student community, but to such prominent Berlin Sinophiles as Alexander Ochs, proprietor of the eponymous gallery on Sophienstr., who’s a weekly visitor. Read the rest of this entry »

One of the things I struggled for years to find in this city was good fresh pasta. For a while, there was a place near where I worked in Charlottenburg called Ali Baba Pizza (I certainly think of Ali Baba when I think of Italy, don’t you?) that would sell good ravioli and tortellini out of the back of the store, like it was dope or something. Sometimes their stuff showed up at miscellaneous Italian delis, and then it vanished.

This seemed to be the way it worked: you’d find a good supply of the stuff and then it would vanish. There was no trouble getting it in restaurants, but for home use, it was hopeless. The stuff in bags that Buitoni and other commercial manufacturers like Rana was good as far as it went (although some of the Rana stuff had MSG in it), but it never really got al dente: it was either gummy from the git-go or it had a sort of industral hardness that didn’t go away.

Then, one day, I was at the market in Hackescher Markt on a Thursday and discovered the Pasta Ladies. That’s not their name: their name is Nudel & Co. I call them the Pasta Ladies because they’re all women, and from what I can tell, all their employees are women. They usually have about eight kinds of ravioli, five or six kinds of tortellini, two of tortellacci (huge fist-sized tortellini, usually with very exotic fillings), and a few other fresh Italian shapes. They also have a couple of kinds of Maultaschen, occasional Knödel, Schupfnudeln, and Spätzle for you Swabian food-lovers.

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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 »

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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A couple of my favorite products have vanished, as far as I can tell, from Berlin’s grocery shelves in recent months. Maybe this is just one angry person venting, but I want them back.

The first to go was HP Sauce. Okay, it’s not exactly high-end dining, but this brown British staple goes damn well with supermarket Bouletten, a guilty favorite of mine and definitely not high-end dining. (They were described to me when I first moved here as “a fight between the butcher and the baker which the baker won.”) I should probably learn to make my own, because homemade ones I’ve had have been excellent. But sprinkle some Tabasco into some HP and you have a good accompaniment.

Now, I used to score HP in the food floor of Kaufhof in Alexanderplatz. In fact, I’d check the supply if other business took me to Alex, just to save time. The new, “improved” Kaufhof Galleria actually seems to have fewer products than the old cramped one, but better art-directed. Still, it had HP. Well, it did until the day it didn’t. Figuring it was just a momentary lapse, I noticed that HP also made barbeque sauces, so I picked up the “hot spicy” one just for kicks. Turned out it, too, was excellent (with the addition of some Tabasco: wouldn’t want to torch an unsuspecting German palate).

Both are gone. Read the rest of this entry »