Berlin's Worst Tourist Trap?

East Side Blick - Friedrichshain

Last week, as I happened to cross the Admiralsbrücke on the way back home, I found myself stuck in the middle of a loud demonstration of dreadlocked young Berliners. They were the angry, disenfranchised youth of a city in turmoil. They needed a well-earned outlet for their anger. But instead of doing something useful like occupying the Reichstag or Potsdamer Platz, they decided to demonstrate against the tourists.

It may only be my problem, but why this burning hatred for tourists all of a sudden? True, I occasionally make fun of lard-assed tourists. I will be the first to frown at drunken Spaniards vomiting in front of the few available Berliner landmarks after a night out at Berghain. Moreover, I refuse to go to touristy places and will always make a point out of showing I actually live here, thankyouverymuch. But from here to demonstrating against tourists? Why on earth?!

At the end of the day they bring in money, experiences and impulses. And we also enjoy being tourists in other places. The only reason I am here is because I once had the chance to enjoy this city as a tourist. Imagine what would have happened, had I landed straight on to an anti-tourist demonstration? Of course, you may say I have always been a good tourist. I respect the locals, try to embarrass myself ordering things in their language, I never vomit on the pavement (just on a cat once, but it was a mistake and it was inside a flat. So there you go). But this is all beside the point. Tourists have rights too.

The point is, however, that tourism changes cities. City centres become appropriated by shops catering for people who will not be coming back anytime soon. Aesthetics and quality usually suffer as a result. This often means locals avoid the most representative parts of their cities, leaving them instead to hoards of people who buy “My sister went to London and all she got me was this lousy T-shirt” T-shirts. When was the last time you heard about a Parisian going for dinner at the Eiffel Tower? Or a Berliner going out for a fun evening at the Brandenburg Gate? You haven’t, not in a long time, and that’s because these places have been forfeited to tourist-aesthetics and prices. But isn’t it a pity? Wouldn’t it be nice to dine and simultaneously have one of these views that are usually reserved for tourists?

A new mission thus materialised: to find a spot where locals can feel like tourists and enjoy a Berlin landmark. For some reason I had the bad idea to start by testing the East Side Blick on the Spree-bank just next to the Eastside Gallery. I know, the daft name “East Side Blick” should have sent me a clear warning. When I entered the place and saw the bored expression on the face of the girl behind the counter I should have turned on my heel and left. The final straw should have been the menu (somewhere between a bad canteen and a bad idea of a restaurant) or maybe just the plastic ambiance? But I stayed nonetheless.

We should begin with the positive vibe. On a sunny day, the location actually is as stunning as Berlin gets. Being on the Eastside-Gallery bank, you don’t get any of the bleakness of the actual Eastside gallery or the O2 Arena. You get to sit on the riverbank, look towards a couple of nice buildings in Kreuzberg and even more importantly: the Oberbaumbrücke in all its glory makes for a truly pleasing setting.

And now to the less positive things. We started with the antipasti (priced at 6.80 €) and a Kartoffelsalat (for nice 1.60 €). The potato salad might have actually been home made. The antipasti was nothing but. Take a chunk of frozen mix of antipasti vegetables (mushrooms, courgettes and the lot), heat them up in a microwave (to get that extra soggy feeling) and sprinkle soy sauce all over them. 

Antipasti

Kartoffelsalat

Main courses? Ahem... they didn’t have any real salmon in stock (the only real main course on the menu was a salmon-steak. Probably hadn’t found any at Lidl?), so we ordered one dish of penne with smoked salmon and rocket salad (8.80 €) and another dish of pasta with shrimps and tomato sauce (8.70 €). The shrimp pasta was edible. The sauce had come directly out of a can and there were a few shrimps to be seen lurking in it. The smoked-salmon dish, however, was nothing less than horrifying. Dried/burnt strips of salmon, a bit of olive oil to make it sound Mediterranean and lots of dry rocket leaves. 

Truly horrid pasta

Bad pasta

I know, I should have known. The only place around Eastside Gallery is basically there to exploit tourists. So why would anyone take advantage of a splendid location and actually make something out of it? It doesn’t have to be pretentious. It doesn’t have to be posh. But even basic studenty pasta can be done right, and if it is done right, it can be enough to make people come and savour the presence of Berlin’s central waterway. Unfortunately, however, there is no reason to stop at East Side Blick. 

Overall Mark:

East Side Blick

Mühlenstraße 70-71, 10243 Berlin

www.east-side-blick.de

Größere Kartenansicht

Berlin's Only Curry? A Birthday Post

Sigiriya - Friedrichshain

It’s that time of year all over again. It’s cold and damp. People seem to enjoy being rude and grumpy. Leaving work in the dark, sunlight belongs to a distant memory of the past. Oh, the gloom. And yet, the Footprints are in a celebratory mode. Yes, you heard me; you are now reading blog’s 40th post, which also marks a whole year of incessant cyber-ranting about Berlin’s culinary landscape! Yay.

It did not take too much brooding to reach the conclusion that the most appropriate birthday gift to readers would be a recommendation about real curry in Berlin.

Just to recap – curry in Berlin is a problem. Always has been. I just blame it on the German psyche, which seems to be inherently incompatible with spicy food. Or with anything all too different from home. You are bound to see where this ends: sweet Vindaloos, creamy Daals, Gouda sprinkled over Naans. In other words: curry genocide. Let’s not exaggerate. Worse things have happened in history than expats unable to appease their ever growing hunger for curry. My stomach rarely stays empty (there is enough non-curry food around, as numerous posts here must have proved beyond doubt). I have not yet starved, a blank expression over my face and flies hovering over my head in a street corner somewhere in Marzahn. And yet, curry deprivation is psychologically taxing and should not be taken lightly. Oh, the gloom.

Yet no more! I come bearing the gift of the first edible curry in Berlin. But let’s not rush things. One step at a time.

It all started with Sarah’s (who knows her curries) discovery of the Sri Lankan Sigiriya in Friedrichshain. I’ll be frank about it: I found it hard to believe her at first. Add the fact that we were talking about an Indian-style restaurant in the heart of Friedrichshain’s Südkiez, which – for the sake of all fairness – did not help dispel any fears or misconceptions in advance. But it’s hard to doubt a Bradfordian’s judgement about curry. Every possibly edible curry is worth a shot. So there I went.

The menu’s layout, the overall ambiance and the insistence on putting organic symbols all around the place reminded me of Chandra Kumari on Gneisenaustraße (which had left me lukewarm at best). I should also add that I am less keen on Sri Lankan/Southern Indian food, as I grew up feeding on Pakistani/Northern Indian deliciousness. But we are in Berlin. We shall not be picky. Or anal. Or stupid. Beggars can’t be choosers. It was time to meet my maker.

We began with the three starters on the menu: Roles (vegetarian roles with a potato-based filling, 2.50 €), vadai (chick-pea balls served with sweet-sour sauce, 2.70 €) and the elavalu roti (samosa-like coconut-bread dumplings with vegetarian filling, 2.80 €). I’ll have to admit they were not breathtakingly spectacular. Far from it, actually. The roles were nice – the filling was a nicely seasoned, stodgy samosa-like-filling and the dough was thin and light. The vadai was... well... dry. The chick-pea balls were nicely seasoned, but it felt like biting into a piece of dry cardboard. The elavalu was, however, very pleasing. It was perfectly seasoned; the dough was good with just the right touch of coconut. They were quite alright, but not much more. As such, I was still dubious about the next phase.

Elavalu roti

Vadai

We then ordered five dishes: Niviti dhal hodhi (vegetarian red lentil curry with spinach, 6.30 €), chicken curry with paripoo hodhi (a dish with both a chicken based curry dish and a daal – red lentil curry – for 8.90 €), chicken curry with wamboutou hodhi (a chicken curry dish with another aubergine curry, 8.90 €), mutton saag (mutton curry in spinach served with an extra raita-bread, 8.90 €) and mutton curry with ratu ale hodhi and sini sambole (a dish of mutton curry, beetroot – coconut curry and caramelised onions, 9.50 €). The first three we ordered “originalscharf” – which is trying to say we wanted it really spicy, and the latter two were ordered “German-spicy”. Which means not spicy at all, which kinda misses the point, but oh well. In addition, we ordered two pol-rotis (delicious coconut bread, 1.50 €).

The good news is that everything was good. Unlike curries I’ve so far encountered in Berlin, Sigiriya actually uses real spices and not just pieces of “things” swimming in a tasteless, generic curry batches made of blandness and cream. It’s all nicely refined. The bad news is that it’s not Pakistani. I am not sure I am the biggest fan of coconut-based dishes, and Sri Lankan food is big on coconut. But then again, this is my problem, not Sigiriya’s.

Chicken and daal

Mutton and beetroot

I’ll start with the daals, because we all know daal really is the ultimate test. Both daals were good: rich dishes with a real palette of tastes. I found them a tad too coconutty, but then again, this is only me talking. They had enough spice to have more presence than anything else I’ve found in Berlin, but I did not think they were spicy enough. The daal with the spinach was a tiny bit better than the pure daal. The aubergine curry was perfect. Again, too coconutty for me, but otherwise rich in taste, spicy and quite wonderful. The chicken curries were good as well, with the chicken and the spices taking centre stage together (so different to any chicken-curry you’d order anywhere else in town, where you just get a bland sauce with tasteless pieces of chicken lurking around in it). If only, the sauce was not powerful enough, but it was all in the right direction. The mutton dishes were not bad either. The saag was nicely refined, but I found it lacked a bit of presence. The raita was perfect, however, and compensated for the relative blandness of the dish. The second mutton was a lot better. The beetroot curry was very pleasing and the spicy caramelised onions were quite fantastic: both had just the right presence, well balanced and well spiced. The mutton curry on the same dish was a bit more disappointing. Not spicy enough and tasted a bit more generic than the rest. But still light years away from anything else around.

Bottom line: Go to Sigiriya. Like... you know, NOW. Compared to curries in Birmingham it might still be lacking in more than one way, but it could still be a fairly good choice on a London scale. On a Berlin scale, which is what we are dealing with a the moment – it may just be the only possible choice.

Overall Mark: 

Restaurant Sigiriya
Grünberger Straße 66, 10245
www.restaurant-sigiriya.de


Größere Kartenansicht

The Best Burgers in Berlin?

Berliner-Spezial No. 2: A Burger Showdown

Better late than never, I welcome thee to the second Footprint-Berliner-Spezial, and this time it’s about burgers. Burgers, you may ask? Why burgers? The reason is partly because I can and partly because they have become an integral part of Berlin’s fast-food identity.

It all began a few years ago, I am not sure exactly why, but it (rather conveniently) happened just around the time How I Met Your Mother had aired its classic burger episode. To those of you who do not know How I Met Your Mother: I’ll just have to shake my head in disbelief and say I’ve expected more of you. HIMYM is an American sitcom about five friends living and struggling through the Big Apple. As much as a great deal of the series is about the American obsession with dating as a way of life (more on that some other time), other parts of it are just about what makes New York the Greatest City in the Universe (a HIMYM quote, not necessarily the Footprints’ opinion).

Back to the Burger Episode, twenty minutes in which our five main characters run around New York in search of the perfect hamburger. They race between holes in the wall, rant about how burgers used to be better in the past and groan an awful lot (apparently the natural reaction to a really good burger). After watching it, I felt like groaning as well, but at the time, the only hole-in-the-wall in Berlin dedicated to burgers was the Kreuzburger. You could still find good – albeit pricier – burgers in real restaurants, but the very idea of running around in town looking for the best piece of meat in a bun seemed unattainably absurd.

Which is, needless to say, not the case anymore. Holes-in-the-walls dedicated to serving greasy burgers for humane prices have been popping up in Berlin like mushrooms after an autumn shower. If Berlin had its own proper HIMYM (Gute Zeiten, schlechte Zeiten, anyone?*), one could think of shooting a classic burger episode even here.

But until that happens, you will have to be satisfied with Footprints in Berlin rising to the challenge of providing you with a basic guide to burger-holes-in-the-wall in Berlin. Over the last week, I have tried out seven burger institutions all around the city (with the main criterion being price/accessibility – these are NOT restaurants, but burger stands, the Low-Cost of burgers). They were then ranked according to the burger quality (I tried out the cheeseburger and the wedges in each hole-in-the-wall in order to have a fix parameter for comparison). The ONLY real criterion for the ranking was the burgers’ quality (and value). Other factors (like ambiance, service and variety) will be described, but I will try to keep their influence on the actual ranking to a minimum. Now enough chatter. Let’s get down to work: Where can you find the best burgers in Berlin?

Overall Rank: 7: Burgers Berlin, Friedrichshain

If this Berliner-Spezial gave any credit for ambiance, Burgers Berlin would definitely be a bit further ahead. The inside is quite nice (considering the fact it is just a hole-in-the-wall), with neon-aesthetics well combined with a wannabe-diner look. The burgers are alright. They’re the bog-standard variety with a rather small chunk of meat (which wasn’t that exceptional to begin with). It is not bad, but something about their burger just felt an awful lot like McDonald’s, which will – unfortunately – have to place them at the very bottom of the list.

Prices:
Regular Burger: 3.20 €
Cheeseburger: 3.40 €
Chips: 1.20 €
Wedges: 1.40 €

Why Ja? An actual diner-like place, onion rings.
Why Nein? Putting the bog in standard.

Burgers Berlin

Sonntagstraße 2, 10245 Berlin


Größere Kartenansicht

Overall Rank: 6: Burgermeister, Kreuzberg

This is not just me being contrary here, but it’s about time somebody said admitted that Burgermeister ain’t as good as everyone says it is. Sorry. True, the location is a stroke of genius: under the U-Bahn railings in a turn of the century-art-nouveau-look-alike public lavatories’ structure. It really is quite brilliant. Their number system is also a bit more customer friendly than anywhere else (they’ve actually got an electronic display, unlike other places where they just shout something into thin air). Maybe it’s the fact that you have to queue for too long a time and that it doesn’t take long to gather enough material of a hipster-bashing blog entry. Maybe it’s the fact that the buns we got could have been mistaken for charcoals and that the meat was fairly dry, but I just can’t really see why people go on raving about the place. And yet, if you make it through the queue: the sauces are good, the wedges are excellent and it’s the only place in town where you can get a Teutonic version of chips-and-cheese!

Prices:
Regular Burger: 3.40 €
Cheeseburger: 3.70 €
Chips: 1.50 €
Wedges: 1.60 €
(Cheese-fries: 1.90 €)


Why Ja? Perfect location, good number system, their bacon-cheese-fries (that grease galore is worth every pound you gain in weight), good selection of burgers.
Why Nein? Horrible service, long queues, dry meat, burnt buns.

Burgermeister

Oberbaumstraße 8, 10997 Berlin
www.burger-meister.de


Größere Kartenansicht

Overall Rank: 5: Hamburger Heaven, Kreuzberg

True to its location, the burger-stand on Graefestr. is all about friendliness and organic-vibes. Everything is clean and nice, not to mention this being the only place where they offer two degrees of organic meat: “Freiland” and “Bio”, with the difference being that the Bio-animals had been fed organically themselves, whereas the Freiland-cows might have roamed freely through the green meadows of Northern Germany, but their nutrition was based on Lidl produce. Be it as it may, take the “Bio” burger if you come around, the difference is fairly rewarding. The less rewarding elements are the waiting time (there was no real queue and we still managed to wait for nearly 40 minutes out in the cold), the buns (they don’t fall apart, but they’re not tasty either) and the home-made sauces. As the place is all about being organic, they make their own ketchup, BBQ-sauce and the rest. It might sound good (and to be fair, it also tastes good inside the burger), but I’ve rarely been so frustrated as while trying to get some of their thick and sour tomato-spread (AKA home-made ketchup) on top of my chips (home-made as well, yet very good).

Prices: (add 0.50 € for Freiland and 1.00 € for Bio)
Regular Burger: 3.50 €
Cheeseburger: 4.00 €
Chips: 2.00/3.00 €


Why Ja? Very rich burgers, good quality meat, real cheese in the cheeseburger, good chips, nice service, the place also serves steaks for those who could not be bothered taking a burger.
Why Nein? No seating arrangements inside in case it gets either cold or rainy (as in 90% of the time), long wait, home made sauces, an overriding impression of trying too hard to be healthy.

Hamburger Heaven

Graefestraße 93, 10967 Berlin
www.hamburgerheaven.org


Größere Kartenansicht

Overall Rank: 4: Kreuzburger, Kreuzberg.

Tradition has to be rewarded in some way. The original Kreuzburger on Oranienstraße can be crowned as Berlin’s original burger-hole-in-the-wall. The space inside is much bigger than in most other places and is therefore also more suitable for winter escapades. Just keep in mind it’s fairly gritty – and not always the nice way. The burger variety is quite impressive, assuring that just about anyone will be able to find something. Their burgers are fairly standard, but the good way: the meat is good (their organic meat is even better), the sauces are just fine and their selection of chips is great. Just keep in mind that their “home fries” are fairly massive pieces of potatoes, whereas what you mean when you order “wedges” anywhere else would have to be their “country fries”.

Prices:

Regular Burger: 2.70 € (3.90 € for large/ 3.40 € for organic)
Cheeseburger: 3.10 € (4.40 € for large/ 3.90 € for organic)
Chips: 1.60 €
Wedges: 2.50 €

Why Ja? Good quality; standard burgers; large variety of burgers; good chips that come in more than one shape.
Why Nein? Not the nicest atmosphere.

Kreuzburger (Kreuzberg)
Oranienstraße 190, 10999 Berlin
www.kreuzburger.de


Größere Kartenansicht

Overall Rank: 3: Burgerium, Friedrichshain

Surprisingly enough, not one of Berlin’s well known burger institutions, but the hole-in-the-wall on Revaler Straße that seems to be there purely for the sake of large groups of drunken tourists on a stag-night tour of Berlin (i.e. who would be satisfied by just about anything, as long as it’s greasy enough) managed to get to the top three. Don’t let the place’s appearance blind you to their burgers: We’re talking about large, juicy burgers with tasty sauces and great chips.

Prices:

Regular Burger: 2.90 €
Cheeseburger: 3.30 €
Chips: 1.80 €
Wedges: 2.00 €

Why Ja? Good burgers.
Why Nein? There would be a fair chance to find oneself in the fire range of someone’s vomit in case you decided to sit outside.

Burgerium

Revaler Straße 8, 10245 Berlin


Größere Kartenansicht

Overall Rank: 2: Marienburger, Prenzlauer Berg 

If I handed hamburger-footprints for service, Marienburger would win by a large margin. The ladies at the till were inherently nice in a way you rarely see in Berlin’s holes-in-the-wall. As it is the only good burger institution in Prenzlauer Berg, expect a long queue due to parents and children negotiating matters of high importance at the till, usually followed by the same parents trying to calm down these same children once they start crying after the first “no”. The space inside is minimal. In summer, hope to get a seat outside, seeing how the street is actually quite pleasant and all. And the most important bit? Yes, the burgers. They’re great. Really. The standard burgers are already massive and the meat is good quality. The topping is otherwise quite minimal (with the buns, gherkins, onions and the usual sauces), but it still managed to be just right. The only problem was that I found the cheese to be quite horrid (they use the worst kind of American melted “cheddar”), but I know some people who actually enjoy an injection of radioactive chemicals into their burger and find cheeseburgers should be served without any real cheese. And yet, try out their Marienburger (double cheeseburger with slices of bacon), it’s a chunk of pure, greasy joy for the mere price of 5 EUR.

Prices:

Regular: 3.50 €
Cheeseburger: 3.80 €
(Marienburger – double + cheese + bacon: 5.00 €)
Chips: 1.40 €
Wedges: 1.50 €

Why Ja? Great burgers; good meat; nice service; the Marienburger.
Why Nein? Long wait; horrid cheese.

Marienburger Imbiss

Marienburger Straße 47, 10405 Berlin
www.marienburger-berlin.de


Größere Kartenansicht

Overall Rank: 1: BBI – Berlinburger International, Neukölln

The best burger joint in Berlin is actually a den. Or a pigsty, you choose. I reckon it’s appropriate, as we are talking about Newkölln and most people around would not be caught dead in anything less cool (or without the obligatory swanky moustaches and thick-rimmed glasses). The interior space is tiny and stuffy and the tables outside are just... well... not the nicest place on earth. However, go there. It’s worth every cent. The regular burgers are already massive (even though you can also order the “Nimmersatt” version for an additional 2.80 € and probably stuff your face with enough meat to keep your stomach busy for a week) and not always easy to get into a normal person’s mouth (mine is larger than most, so I am usually spared the need to cut things into smaller slices). But the main point is that the meat is great and the topping together with that lamb’s-lettuce is quite amusing. Even if you’re not the type who likes dens in Neukölln, you should try their burgers.

Prices:

Regular: 3.90 €
Cheeseburger: 4.40 €
Chips: 2.00 €
Wedges: 2.00 €

Why Ja? Great burgers, period.
Why Nein? Not the best space ever; their chilli-cheese-fries are quite strange (a layer of chips, covered with a slice of cheese, covered with nice, yet bland chilli con carne).

BBI - Berlinburger International

Pannierstraße 5, 12047 Berlin
www.berlinburgerinternational.com


Größere Kartenansicht

Yes Girl, Carbs Are Good for You

Spätzle und Knödel - Friedrichshain

Even though ranting about all that is wrong with Germany has by now become my second favourite pastime (the first one being cake), I still have moments of pure “isn’t-Germany-great” delight (strangely enough unrelated to cake). They are usually triggered by the one or the other kind of Spätzle, which would raise the legitimate question about whether Spätzle – the doughy Southern German version of pasta – contains any hallucinogens. I may not have the scientific credentials to analyse the happiness eggy dough instils in a man, yet I can still think of a couple of Spätzle-related scenes in which something greater than just its chemical composition put an “isn’t-Germany-great” smile on my face.

One of them occurred last year in Munich. It was a drizzly day and everything had gone wrong before we ended up at a place called Altes Simpel, which is apparently a classically authentic local experience. It is one of those magnanimous Bavarian spaces with beer and pork in nearly disturbing abundance. The place was packed and we took our seat at one of the heavy wooden tables looming around to quickly realise we did not understand the menu. This is the place to say it was not due to my German, as I was even equipped with a real German sitting next to me who seemed to be even more at odds with the situation than myself. The menu was written in Bavarian, which is – as endearing as it may be – not entirely decipherable for your average Hochdeutsch (standard German) speaker. We needed help and we needed it fast.

The cavalry came in the shape of a nymph-shaped waitress. She was blonder than a Californian and friendlier than a Dundonian. After refusing to serve us a Weißwurst because you only got that for breakfast (Bavarian rules, if you can’t beat them, join them), she took the time to walk us through the menu, which culminated in her description of the “Schwabenpfandl” (a dish which would roughly translate into a “Swabian pan”, which – you would all agree – makes no sense whatsoever). “Oh, that,” said she, “it’s quite simple really: a few pork medallions with a heap of spinach-spätzle and thick mushroom-cream sauce.” She nodded, smiled and added: “und übrigens, das Ding ist ziemlich geil,” which would translate into: “and by the way, that thing is delicious/brilliant/awesome/sensual.”

Now wait a second, a pretty, slim girl in her early twenties just called a pile of pig, carbs, cream and fat “geil?” As hard as I try to avoid blunt generalisations, her London or New York counterpart would smile and say that she has been told it was good, but really, you see, it is just too rich for her to try it herself *giggle*. In Munich, however, that pile of sinful fat overdose was just “geil”. It was a moment of pure elation. I suddenly loved Germany. And that fat spinach spätzle that came along with the food.

I was hoping for a similar experience of too-much-spätzle-in-your-face when I head about Spätzle and Knödel on Wühlischstraße in Friedrichshain. The area has recently turned into an enclave of Southern German cuisine, and the idea of a restaurant focusing its menu on Spätzle and Knödel (German dumplings) had something glorious about it.

The first impression is of a restaurant not entirely “finished”. The furniture is of the Bavarian wooden sort, the lights are dim, but the walls are barren. The general feeling is of a cross between a Bavarian pub and a restaurant. Honouring Bavarian tradition, we started by ordering Bavarian beer and taking a closer look at the menu: there are few to no starters and it is mainly about the main courses and the desserts. According to the restaurant’s name, the customer can order the mains with a choice of either Spätzle or Knödel. We took the Krustbraten with Semmelknödel (pork roast with slices of bread dumpling, 9.40 €) and a Jägerschnitzel with Spätzle (Hunter’s Schnitzel is basically a slice of pork in mushroom-cream sauce, 8.80 €). The pork roast was just right – it wasn’t spectacular, but it was very good: good quality meat, pleasing consistency, convincing seasoning. The dumplings’ quality were a notch higher, as they were absolutely delicious. The whole lot was served together with Sauerkraut, which I would have liked better without the overdose of cumin, but I reckon this is just a matter of taste. The Jägerschnitzel was also very good. The meat was good and tender; the cream sauce was heavy – but definitely gratifying – whereas the Spätzle was close to perfect.

Krustbraten

Jägerschnitzel

 Even though every normal human being would have been satiated after only the mains, I decided I also wanted to try out the Kaiserschmarrn (for those who do not remember: it is the Austrian version of “scrambled crêpe”: masses of pancake-dough scrambled and fried in butter and caramel, 4.30 €). Now, I love a good Kasierschmarrn even though I am aware of the fact it is a perverse thing to be eating. And this one was good: The dough had just the right consistency, being soft inside and crusty and caramelised on the outside. The prune jam that came along with it was very good, but my only problem was the overdose of raisins. I personally think humans should be banned from using raisins in apple cakes, poppy seed cakes (actually, in cake in general) and in Kaiserschmarrn. But then again, it’s just a matter of taste.

Kaiserschmarrn

Spätzle and Knödel is a good address to remember: it won’t be a life changing experience, but if you are looking for an affordable example of pleasingly hearty German food in a Berliner ambiance, go there. Do remember that chic is not necessarily included in the “Berliner ambiance”. But then again, who needs chic with good beer, good carbs and good company?

Overall mark: 

Spätzle & Knödel: Schwäbisch-Bayerische Küche

Wühlischstraße 20, 10245 Berlin
www.spaetzleknoedel.de


View Larger Map

The Babushka Vibe

Matreshka - Friedrichshain

I must have been about five or six when I made an unfathomable discovery. It was a hot summer day at my grandmother’s and I had just eaten a revoltingly radioactive-looking banana ice-cream bar. My hands were sticky, my face smeared with yellow substance and I was holding a stick I needed to get rid of as soon as possible. As I stepped into the kitchen and pulled open the lid on top of the rubbish bin, a deeply disturbing scene unfolded in front of my impressionable eyes: the bin was full of dumplings that looked just like pierogi.

The gravity of the matter would surely be obvious to anyone who has ever come across a Polish grandmother. I will spell it out for all the others: pierogi, or Polish dumplings, are nothing less than sacred. Not only is it unthinkable to throw them away, it is a sin to even contemplate any such nonsense. Needless to say, I was baffled. Had an unspeakably hideous crime just taken place in the very kitchen I was standing in? I looked around, hoping it was not a trick to get me framed for pierogi-murder, and as I realised the kitchen was empty, I began screaming and ran to the other room, where my grandmother was leaning over a newspaper with a cigarette in her hand.

“Who threw away those pierogi?!” I cried. I must have gesticulated convulsively to stress my state of distress.
“Pierogi? What are you talking about?” She asked and seemed nearly panic-stricken for just one moment before realising what I had seen. Her nerves brought under control once again, she curved her lips into a sheepish smile. “Those weren’t pierogi. Just Vareniky. Ludmila, that Ruski from the second floor, she made them. She had the nerves to bring them here into my kitchen. I tasted one of them and threw them into the bin. Tasteless – like the rest of their food.” She then coughed as if to show I should pay special attention to what she was about to say next. “Russian food is like the evil witch from Snow White: she just looked pretty, but was foul inside. By the same token, people like Ludmila from the second floor just make their food look like good Polish food, but inside, it is just tasteless.”

I therefore spent my childhood years knowing that Russian food was something I better avoid. It was only years later, long after my grandmother’s death, that I discovered that Russian food could be quite brilliant. What she said was not entirely untrue: more often than not, Russian dishes will be blander than their Polish equivalences. Vareniky are not as rich as pierogi, borsht is not as flavoursome as a barszcz ukrainski and generally speaking, there seems to be less spice used in the Russian cuisine compared to the Polish one. But do we really need to relegate pointless national aversions and comparisons to the culinary world? As this blog tries to promote world peace and eternal love, I will stop perpetuating negative culinary stereotypes and concentrate on all that is good and kind. In this case, it won’t even prove too difficult, as the Russian cuisine truly has a great deal to offer: think of a juicy shashlik (the Russian version of shish kebab, meat galore on a skewer), a hot salyanka (a thick and sourish soup) or just a bowl of pelmeni (meat dumplings) covered with heaps of smetana (sour cream)? I know it doesn’t sound healthy. But you’ll have to admit it sounds good. And this was exactly what I had in mind when I found myself craving Russian food last week.

Following a friend’s advice, we went to try out Matreshka in Friedrichshain. We found ourselves in the midst of a Russian birthday party, with a group of mothers dancing with their five year old girls to Russian Eurovision music. The walls were covered with colourful prints of large babushka dolls, but were otherwise so white and the place so brightly lit that I could not help but thinking of a Russian community centre in Dudley. The cheap IKEA furniture did not make things any better, and looking around, the feeling was of a place cheap and not entirely welcoming. And yet, for some reason it felt just right. It reminded me of Russia.

Beef Stroganoff

Goulash

 The menu confirmed my first notion, with a choice of very simple, home made Russian food for fairly low prices. We ordered two pints of affordable Russian beer (Baltyka, 2.90 €) and started our meal by ordering soups: a soljanka (a sour soup with tomatoes, gherkins and different types of meat) and a bortsch (beetroot soup), both cost 3.90 € if ordered as a main course or 1.90 € if ordered as a starter. The soljanka was nice, but quite bland. The bortsch was very good. It was not spectacular, but it reminded me of homemade soups in Russia. We then continued with a pork-goulash (don’t expect to get Hungarian or German goulash. Here it is made of pieces of pork in tomato-like sauce, 4.90 €) and the most expensive main course on the menu, the beef stroganoff (slices of beef in mushroom-smetana sauce, 7.90 €). There was very little meat involved in the dishes and they were not what you'd call visually appetising, but it was not very surprising considering the price, and therefore not the end of the world. The sauces were tasty and the overall quality was quite pleasing though – it was neither refined nor spectacular, but it was nice and felt like homemade creations of Ludmila from the second floor, or any other babushka for that matter.

To accompany our meal we also ordered a dish of mixed dumplings with 9 pelmeni and 7 vareniky (pelmeni are the meat-filled dumplings, vareniky are vegetarian, filled with potatoes or potatoes and sauerkraut, 9.90 €). Even though our bellies later came close to the brink of explosion because of the amount of dumplings and smetana we had stuffed into our poor mouths, it was well worth it. The dumplings were just brilliant: the dough was just right, the fillings were pleasing despite being bland and the smetana definitely provided us with much needed fat for the cold winter.

Overall, Matreshka is far from being a refined five-star restaurant. And yet, something about it was just right: it was a cheap place for those who get a sudden urge to get catapulted eastwards. The food is far from being perfect, but it is pleasingly and affordably authentic. Even the babushkas on the wall and the ghastly music in the background were much appreciated as a part of the drill.

Overall mark:

Matreshka 

Boxhagener Straße 60, 10245 Berlin


View Larger Map