Hungry in Berlin

We’d been hearing about it for years: a huge Vietnamese market somewhere in the deep east, where the freshest herbs and vegetables you could want for your Chinese, Thai, and Vietnamese cooking were available, and the space was dotted with lunch-stands serving many kinds of phô, the famous beef-and-noodle soup. The question was, where was it?

Which was exactly the question we found ourselves asking yesterday noon, as four of us, in two cars, in the wilds on the border of Lichtenberg and Marzahn, pored over cell-phones and GPS units, looking for this place one of us had scrupulously researched on the Internet. As it turned out, we’d found where it had been, but where was it now?

Eventually, an answer bubbled out of cyberspace: the word Herzbergstrasse appeared on a cell-phone, and buttons were pressed, speculation was tossed around, and eventually our caravan made its chaotic way towards the Dong Xuan Center, another planet in the Berlin cosmos.

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No, not the classic Homer & Jethro album, but a query from a reader:

I was wondering if you all at Hungry In Berlin know if there are any places
around Berlin to pick wild berries this summer. There are so many woods I was
hoping to get some good picking in. This applies also to wild fruit, veggies,
mushrooms, etc! Thanks in advance, any advice is appreciated.

We immediately forwarded this question to our Far South Berlin correspondent, for no better reason than she lives closer to the woods than any of the rest of us, and sure enough, she had an answer for us:

Spargelhof Kleistow is a good stop for picking strawberries and high bush blueberries (don’t know what else to call them). Thankfully not so much bending involved, although the inside of the berry is white, not blue. But generally very good, big flavorful berries.

You can buy all sorts of fresh local produce and bread in their store, they also have a restaurant and places to play for the kids. They have a lot of festivals, too, which certain short, underaged people in the family enjoy.

Any of our other readers know of pick-your-own places in the vicinity? Tomatoes near Werder? Apples in Brandenburg? And are there any laws regulating mushrooming or wild-berry picking on what might be private land? Because come fall, the woods are filled with mushroomers.

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’ll just start off by saying: Aimee’s carnitas are good. There’s maybe nothing I miss more than a basic hot fried pork burrito in San Francisco. It’s terrible for you. But so delicious; and these channeled that loveliness surprisingly well.

But you can’t have carnitas without a little spice, and good tortillas. It is possible to buy salsa here in Berlin, but it tends to fall more into the category of what my mother used to call “taco sauce.” Red, vaguely tomato-based sauce, with a little spice, but no real flavor.

Once summer rolls around, making a raw tomato salsa might be more feasible. And if anyone finds tomatillos, well, let me know and I’ll buy you all the beer you can drink. But for now, since most of the tomatoes we get here aren’t spectacular (even mid-summer), I recommend a roasted tomato-chipotle salsa. Brings out the flavor nicely, even if there’s barely any to start with.

Here’s one good recipe, with a tip of the hat to Heidi Swanson and her 101 Cookbooks site.
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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 »

For a very short time, it’s asparagus season in Germany. No matter that asparagus fields will continue to produce into the early summer: local tradition decrees that it is over on June 1. Only clueless foreign vegetable stands (ie, those run by Turks or Vietnamese, which is where I prefer to buy my vegetables anyway) will continue to offer any.

And now let me introduce some heresy: I just don’t like white asparagus, which is what you mostly find in the markets here. It’s flavorless, has no discernable vitamins, and is usually masked by some ultra-rich sauce to distract you from its blandness. Nope, I grew up with green asparagus, and that’s what you’ll find on my table.

There are some advantages to having this preference: for one thing, the elevated cost of thick white spears is outrageous, as is the fetishistic insistence on all-white (as opposed to “purple,” which has the tips in the process of turning green — horrors!). Green asparagus — when you can find it — is cheaper. Plus, the best green asparagus is thin, and, thanks to our overlords in Brussels, listed as Class III. The best, cheapest asparagus I’ve ever found in Berlin was courtesy of a couple of ladies who’d set up in the Winterfeldtplatz market to dump this “trash” at about a Euro a kilo.

You can find green asparagus for €1.50 to €2 a 500-gram bundle all over the place at the moment, coming in from Greece and Spain, so make the most of it. I like it steamed and covered with a garlicky balsamic vinaigrette, or garlic butter, but I also make a killer pasta dish out of it.

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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.

Gray winter days call for baked apple crumble, a topping otherwise known as “streusel” here in Deutschland. It’s a simple concept: “streusel” means crumble. Streusel (not to be confused with “strudel,” the super-thin pastry dough) is essentially a lazy pie “dough” that never quite gets its act together, baking crisp yet crumbly over fruit or cake. To make a streusel topping, all you need is flour, butter and sugar, and perhaps a touch of spice. The American and British versions of crumble tend to be a bit more, well, crumbly than the German versions — German recipes seem to call for more sugar (and a bit of egg), which makes the crumble more of a crunchy (and keeps the topping on the cake, rather than the table or your lap). I’m really more of a fan of the messy, brown-sugary and cinnamon (think coffee cake) kind of crumble, which goes especially well with baked fruit. You don’t need to do much: peel, core and chop some apples or other fruit that bakes well. Assemble a streusel: there’s suggestions for recipes here, and here, and here. (I added some granola and chopped hazelnuts to mine, for the crunch factor.) Sprinkle the streusel on top of your fruit and bake until the fruit’s bubbly and the streusel’s browned and slightly crunchy. Not a bad way to pass yet another gray Berlin day, eh?

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 »

Short Version: Eier Plätzchen = Vanilla Wafers

Long Version: My wife is a very, very s’phisticated women…a Hamburger, born with pearls rundum her neck…unless it has to do with her tastes in literature, men or food. The other day, before we went to a dinner party with a few compadres up the strasse, I asked my frau: “What should we mit?” Having spent a year in rural Ohio as an exchange student, she (naturally) responded: “Banana pudding.” Hmmm. My initial thought: “Well, schnooks, where the ‘ell am I s’posed to find the one key ingrediant — vanilla wafers?” Well, ladies and gentlemen, believe it or not, as I later discovered, you will find among the cookies in your local grocery store something called “Eier Plätzchen.” These are exactly the same as vanilla wafers.

The only sad thing to report is this: After making what I thought was some arschtretende banana pudding, my wife said: “Well, this isn’t how they do it at Magnolia‘s.” Ugh.