Hungry in Berlin

And no, it’s not the misspelled name of a northern Berlin kiez. Danielle, a recent transplant from Seattle, writes:

I had a question. Can one find panko anywhere in Germany? I looked in the asianmarkt near my house in Charlottenburg but didn’t see it. I have not tried KaDeWe because I am worried about the expense.

A brief primer: Panko is Japanese for breadcrumbs, often used for dishes such as tonkatsu (breaded and fried pork cutlets). Panko is lighter and flakier than the typical “western” breadcrumb and fries up super-crunchy.

I’m bummed to hear that your local Asiamarkt didn’t have panko; most of the outlets I’ve been to have it. Try our favorite Asiamarkt Vinh Loi in Wedding (or try the Charlottenburg outlet at Ansbacher Str. 16, if you’re not feeling like a long day on the U-bahn) or perhaps even the Asiamarkt at Alexanderplatz, across from the Galleria Kaufhof (which also carries it, I’ve been told). It will usually be grouped with other Japanese items (look for the unrefrigerated mayonnaise with the funny picture of a kewpie doll, that’s a sure give-away). When in doubt, try asking for “japansiche Semmelbrösel” (that’s breadcrumbs) and see where it gets you.

And wise choice with KaDeWe — fun, but always pricey.

As a native Californian, I speak culinary Spanish (with an emphasis on the Mexican dialect). Four years of college in San Diego proved that a person can gladly and happily live on rice and beans (and salsa and tortillas) alone. And although my Heimstadt gave birth what has come to be known as the “San Francisco burrito” (see Dolores in Mitte for an up-market, but not totally authentic, version), nothing beats a homemade feast of carnitas, frijoles refritos, handmade tortillas and smoky, spicy salsa. Us gringos celebrate Cinco de Mayo (Mexican military victory over the French, 1862; gradually morphed into a “hooray for all things Mexican” celebration in the U.S., sponsored by Corona) with food. I’m going to focus on the proteins in this post — how to make carnitas, or boiled-then-fried pork shoulder, and refried beans. See “part dos” for a how-to on flour tortillas and chipotle salsa — with ingredients that can be found all here in Berlin. Read the rest of this entry »

No, not the squirt-from-a-can kind. (Don’t tell me you didn’t at least once in your life use your tongue as a cracker for a can of this? OK, maybe it was just me.) We’ve spied large blocks of paneer, the creamy, protein-rich Indian white cheese, at our local Asiamarkt (Kopenhagnerstr. at Schonhauser Allee). A half-kilo block will set you back 3.99 Euro — and combined with a large pack of frozen spinach will make enough sag paneer to last about a week and a half.

Now HIB cohort John tells me that the cheese has been hiding in the refrigerated section for some time (he does keep tabs on the tofu better than I) but I’m convinced it’s been recently added to the mix. Nevertheless, it’s a nice discovery timed with (hopefully) nicer weather — at home we’re moving gradually away from heavy foods to lighter fare as the days get longer and warmer. Paneer (or panir) is unsalted, completely vegetarian (not made with rennet) and can be used for both savory and sweet foods. I’m going to wrap a couple of blocks in store-bought puff pastry (with a chutney dip, an easy appetizer); once the sun’s out for real, a couple of slabs on the grill might be a good vegi barbecue option.

Now, true paneer fans out there are probably grumbling — this is a cheese that’s easily made at home. Do you make your own paneer? Tell us about it below (or check out this link for a step-by-step how-to) and share some recipes, too.

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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If you’re coming from the States, when it comes to cream, you’re most likely used to sour cream and then the trinity of light-, heavy-, and whipped cream. But when you hit the dairy section of your local German supermarket, you’re usually presented with a baffling array of options. With the chart below, I’ve attempted to shed a ray of light on the German cream situation.

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© Hungry in Berlin, 2007

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Information gathered from McGee and a few very helpful German books.

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So, how do you use this chart? Well, first thing to note is that items in italics are of the sour (i.e., not “sweet”) cream variety, meaning that they contain lactic acid culture (Milchsäurebakterien). Second, fat percentages are stated at a standard rate and then at real-world ranges in parenthesis. Third, realize that you are going to have to work with approximations. Even “saure Sahne,” a direct translation of “sour cream,” has a very different fat percentage than its Anglo cousin. In general, as McGee tells us, there are three very general cream levels:

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Type % Fat Uses

Light creams < 30% coffee, fruit, pouring

Heavy creams 30-45% whipping, thickening sauces, soups, etc.

“Plastic” creams > 45% spreading onto breads, pastries, fruit, etc.

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So, when going for what you need in Germany, here’s the trick:

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1) think of your needs

2) think of “ranges”

3) choose from the chart accordingly

4) use what’s available to you in that range.

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A few notes:

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Re: Is my cream “süß”? Don’t get tripped up on this appellation. It’s only used to differentiate “normal” from “sour” cream. Thus, “Süßrahm” and “Süßsahne” are both plain ol’ Sahne.

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Re: Crème fraîche – as noted in McGee (p. 29): “In France, crème fraîche may be either “sweet” or cultured with lactic acid bacteria; in the United States, the term always means cultured, tart, thick cream.” Beware of Francophilic Germans and their sweet crème.

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Re: Clotted cream – you may have a hard time finding this fine product of Cornwall and Devonshire (aka “Devon cream”) in Germany. In Berlin, the only place I know that has it for sure is Broken English, which has stores in Charlottenburg and Kreuzberg, but it might be lurking elsewhere. Don’t lose hope, though. There is a Middle Eastern variety of this product available in those parts of Germany blessed with Turkish inhabitants and stores. It usually goes by the name kaymak or kaimaki or by its Afghan name, qymaq. It has a 60 percent fat content and, as The Oxford Companion to Food states, it is a fine substitute.

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Re: Where’s the quark? Although I have included sour cream, crème fraîche, and a few other “tangy” creams in this chart, I intend to write a separate post on yoghurts, quarks, and other fermented milks and creams at a later date.