Berlin für Alle, Part 1

If I learned anything from our trip to Berlin, it's that there's a Berlin for everyone.  La Doug and I rented a studio apartment in Mitte together for the duration of our stay in Berlin; every morning, Doug would come home just as I was leaving to start my day; later, I'd go to bed just as he was getting ready to go out.  I think at least one of us was awake for every hour of the day.

I loved Berlin.  LOVED it.  While I was there, I started devising my 3-year plan to move -- Deutsch lessons at the Goethe Institute, get the book proposal in circulation, snip attachment to material goods -- but when I got back to Brooklyn, I was pretty happy to be home. Still, the adventurer in me smacks her lips at a good challenge. It's nice to know that if New York doesn't work out in the coming years (McCain gets elected, Europeans snatch up all NYC real estate, etc.), there's another city I'd be excited about moving to.

For those of you who want to follow along, I've got another map for Berlin with lots of recommendations I received from my friends Jon Lyon and Luisa, The Wednesday Chef. Because we had no local hosts for this leg of the trip, we had to do a lot more research, so this map has even more detail than the Copenhagen one did.  One interesting and telling note -- though we got recs from many different sources, very few of the recommendations overlapped, which says lots about how much Berlin has to offer for all tastes. Enjoy!

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Berlin is for Meat Lovers

Did the Abstain Project get thrown out the window?  For schnitzel, my nitzel.



First order of business on arrival in Berlin was dinner.  Lauren, the local who let us in to the apartment, suggested the wiener schnitzel at Weltempfaenger, a cafe/bar on the corner of Arkonaplatz in Prenzlauer Berg with tons of long wooden tables and benches.  The schnitzel (which I think was pounded veal) came with an oniony, warm potato goop and some kind of berry jam (gooseberry?).  No vegs, totally awesome.  

Francis, the vegetarian, didn't fare so well with his non-meat option, which turned out to be a cold baked potato with runny quark cheese, served with a sweet-dressed salad.  A cold baked potato does not a dinner make, so we supplemented with another entree of kasespaetzle, German pan-fried squiggly pasta with melted Berg cheese and fried onions -- much tastier and more satisfying option.

Better than the Weltempfaenger schnitzel was the schweineschnitzel (pork schnitzel) I had one hot, glorious afternoon at Die Schwarzwaldstuben in Mitte.  It was crisp, not greasy, pounded to a substantial but tender thickness, coated in panko-style breadcrumbs and fried to golden perfection -- I didn't think I'd be able to finish it, but I cleaned my plate. It came with a slightly mushy, vinegared cucumber salad, a huge wedge of lemon, and the best bacony fried potatoes I've ever had.   I was dining alone that afternoon, and it was one of those meals where I was like, I wish someone were here to share this experience with me, but I'm also glad I don't have to share this plate with anyone.


On the fancy end, I had wiener goulash at the elegant brasserie-type restaurant Cafe Einstein, a pretty little hotel restaurant in West Berlin recommended by Luisa.  La Doug, Julian and I took in a total grown-up summer luncheon in the back garden with wicker chairs and trellises, a sassy Polish waitress with dyed ink black hair and penny-sized rhinestone earrings, and dappled sunlight pouring through the branches of an apple tree.  Viennese goulash included a weightlifter's share of stewed beef, served with a pretty mosaic bread dumpling and an umami-packed wine sauce.  My mouth starts the waterworks every time I look at the picture.



At KaDeWe, the largest department store in the European continent and Berlin's version of Harrod's, the entire sixth floor is devoted to foodstuffs.  And at least half of it is meat.  I'm not kidding.  Like think of the meat counter at the Chelsea Whole Foods -- take that and multiply it by 50.  It was case after case of fresh sausage, cured sausage, dry sausage, tube meats in every shade from pale beige to maroon, fresh meat counters manned by butchermen and women, 20 shrink-wrapped cow tongues in a corner just begging to be depressed by a giant balsa popsicle stick, and this, a whole refrigerator case dedicated to shmancy potted meat products:



On the low end, I had currywurst at this kiosk under the Ebenwalderplatz S-Bahn, home of the best currywurst in Berlin according to several locals we talked to.



Currywurst is a typical Berlin meal, the equivalent of a NY slice.  This efficient little operation, run by a uniformed Jack Sprat and wife-like couple singsonging to each other in German, had a relentless line for the ten minutes it took for me to finish my meal.



A blandish white wurst is deep fried til the casing turns bubbly and forms a thin, crusty skin.  The sausage is then cut into bite-sized, 1-inch hunks.  The whole thing is smothered in ketchup, topped with an aromatic shake of curry powder and served with a dainty little fork-pick.  You can get the fries with mayo or more ketchup -- I didn't realize they were going to drown the fries in mayo, but I guess that's the price you pay when your language skills are limited.  I love ketchup and curry powder, so I loved currywurst.  I can see how it would be awesome and sobering after too many beers.  My only question is: is it better to eat before you get on the train to go home or after you get off your home stop?

My favorite wurst was the rostwurst I got at a stand at the Winterfeldplatz farmer's market.  At 11 am.  Because it was available at that hour and I wasn't the only one who wanted one.  Super juicy and fresh from the grill, it smelled ever so slightly of allspice.  It was served on a no-bullshit, teeny hard wheat roll, which seemed to be meant only to keep your fingers dry. I probably should have gotten it with mustard, but I couldn't resist that curry-flavored ketchup. The leathery guy standing next to me chased his rostwurst with a cigarette.  Now that's a breakfast.



And if schnitzels and wursts are really not for you, there are any number of excellent kebab shops all over town, thanks to the huge Turkish population.  Kreuzberg is ground zero for falafel and schawarma (sha-VAR-ma auf Deutsch) shops -- most of the schawarmas are made from spit-roasted chicken instead of lamb.  We had some rolled in flatbread and then toasted, some in little pocket pitas.  Cheap, tasty, and excellent groundwork for a night of boozing.

Really the only bad meal I had was at Mirchi, a pan-Asian mess of a place in Kreuzberg.  (It calls itself "Singaporean".  My imagination doesn't even stretch that far.)  My friend Sarah R. got the tip-off on the walk over:

SARAH: Excuse me, can you tell me which way Mirchi is?

LOCAL: Oh, congratulations, you are going to the worst restaurant on all of Oranienstraße.

The flavors of the lamb curries were okay; the naan needed salt but was perfectly edible.  The thing that ruined it was that all of the entrees, from the weird sweet and sour paneer to chicken with Thai-style green curry, seemed to be thickened with a flour roux.  Wrong wrong wrong.  On the upside, there was enough seating for all twenty of us to sit at one long, banquet-style table. 

In general, I loved the food in Berlin.  I know!  Who knew? I maybe might have enjoyed getting a little more fiber in my diet, but if I were cooking for myself, that would be easy enough to accomplish.

To be continued...