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

Things to Do With the Last Rays of Sun When Sarah Palin's Already Out of the Presidential Race

Freischwimmer - Kreuzberg

You might not remember it anymore, but last week actually started out as a gloriously balmy one. It showed Berlin at its best: sapphire-blue sky, massive trees shedding their summer green for the sake of yellows and reds, pesky little bees buzzing for the last time. Yes, you heard me, the last time. You can kiss all that goodbye for a few months.

But before we sink into the usual winter depression (there will be enough time for that, I an assure you that much), let’s take a closer look at the last days of autumn. Actually, I like autumn in Berlin. July and August tend to be wet and horrid, whereas September and October always offer a glimmer of joy.

And as this might have been the last streak of good weather for many months to come, I just decided to make the most of it. First of all, I suppressed the fear of a Eurozone collapse, of a dwindling economy, festering conflicts and few more years with the Tories in power. I tried to ignore my disappointment as the dream of seeing a Palin-Bachmann debate was savagely crushed (OK, there might be a positive spin here, with Palin actually opting OUT of the presidential race). I did all that and just went to the Freischwimmer to enjoy the weather.

The thing about the Freischwimmer is that I don’t usually think of it as your local restaurant. Up to last week I had been there a countless number of times, but not once had I actually eaten there. I have always thought of the place of just a perfect place for either a coffee or a beer.

On the other side of the canal from the notorious Klub der Visionäre, the Freischwimmer is probably everything the festering lair of wannabe techno-coolness is not: pleasant, laid back and idyllic (albeit with a bit of techno bits invading the calmness from across the canal). The place makes the most out of its waterside location, offering an inherently urban sensation, which nevertheless manages to ooze a sense of luxurious calmness. It is a bit like what opening a bar on a small side branch of London’s Regent’s Canal would be like, just without the incessant stream of tourists and cyclists. Going back to my political dismay from last week, it is a place Sarah Palin would refudiate as genuinely “un-American” – just like New York, Delaware or Portland (OK, Freischwimmer shouldn’t even be American, being in Germany and all. I just wanted to say refudiate. And maybe also point to the obvious fact it should probably expand and open a branch in Portland).

But enough with that useless praise! We are here to talk about food. And food is what we went for this time. And the bottom line? Meh. But here I am, jumping ahead of myself. So let’s start at the beginning, shall we? The menu was, well, meh. It had a very limited choice of dishes (not a bad thing in itself), but they were all strangely presented. There were no starters, but rather “small things” that included a soup, olives and chips. We skipped that (deciding that it should probably be ordered just with a beer instead of to open one’s appetite for a real meal) and opted directly for the main courses. This part of the menu offered a small variety of classically German bar-food, from Currywurst to Schweinebraten. Simple dishes that could be either a glowing success or what Grizzly moms would call a shot way missing its target.

Goulash

Schweinebraten

We opted for the Szegediner Goulasch (the “Hungarian” variation on German goulash. The Szegediner is always made of pork and sauerkraut. It’s a personal favourite of mine, here for 9.80 €) and the Schweinebraten (pork roast, another German favourite for 10.80 €). The result? Not bad. Just to start with a first gush of criticism, the goulash was fairly small, which ruined the entire “simple and hearty” vibe. It was nonetheless very good. The meat was simple, yet as tender as chunks of cheap pork can get. The sauce was very pleasing in itself with just the right touch of sauerkraut. The pork roast was a tad less convincing. Yes, the sauce was nice and the meat was tender, but it was also too fat. The size of the portion was quite pleasing, making it quite a nice choice of weapons, but still, nothing like anything you’d get down in Bavaria.

The cake you should avoid

We then exasperated the unfriendly waitress by ordering a dessert. It was their chocolate cake de la maison in strawberry sauce and cream (3.70 €, also available without the sauce for 2.20 €). And the result? Yikes on bikes! If the food before had actually managed to convince me that Freischwimmer might have been a fair address for a nice meal out despite the menu’s disarray and the waitress’s attitude, now this was just embarrassingly disappointing. There came a large chunk of chocolate cake which was nice and rich inside and not all too edible on the outside (is the idea of an unchewable crust the new parent-friendly fad so that children will not be able to get to the yummy part inside and give up on chocolate cakes altogether?). In a cake-metropolis like Berlin, is it really that difficult to bake a pleasing chocolate cake?

Bottom line? No matter how good or bad the food is, Freischwimmer still is a fabulous location. If October is benevolent enough to send us a few more rays of sunlight, take your friends, parents, lovers or tourist-friends and lurk around at Freischwimmer. The food is quite alright at the end of the day as well and if you are hungry, go for it. Just know that for less money, you’ll get the same quality out of a burger at the Burgermeister just around the corner.

Overall Mark:

Freischwimmer

Vor dem Schlesischen Tor 2a, 10997 Berlin
www.freischwimmer-berlin.de


Größere Kartenansicht

JWD deliciousness in Treptow

Treptower Klause - Treptow

Where would you start if you wanted to provide a list of the best YouTube phenomena? Well, there is Rebecca Black’s worst song ever, Southpark’s In the Butt (a worthy classic if there ever was one despite the fact it’s about YouTube stardom rather than actually being one), the undoubtedly magnificent Leave Britney Alone and that’s just the absolute tip of the iceberg. Same as reality TV, YouTube has enabled the creation of yet another category of stardom, which is basically all about people whose exhibitionist streak is just enough to get other people excited on their tiny screens for about half a minute of their precious time. Germans call this sort of excitement fremdschämen – to feel embarrassed for someone else. Getting people to fremdschämen for you seems to be a perfectly reliable shortcut to stardom.

And speaking of YouTube stardom, embarrassment and me explaining new German words for you: Do you remember Marina Orlova? You know, the Russian tarty looking blonde who teaches Russian words in short artsy films (one word per film, that is). The art is – of course – all in the eye of the beholder and consists mostly of the validation of any Western stereotype about how well tarty Russians pat their lips and bat their eyelashes between nauseating attacks of giggles. Needless to say, she’s my idol.

For a long time now, I have been considering imitating Marina Orlova, just with German. I would be making videos of my tarty self explaining random German words to the great YouTube community (without being German myself, but then again, nobody’s perfect). There will be important words like Ohrwurm, Zeitgeist or Fremdschämen, but I think my debut video will have to be something local. I’ll have to start with a Berlin word. Like the entire Berlin dialect, it will have to be rude, displeasing and not entirely devoid of self-irony. And I have the perfect word in store: JWD.

JWD (pronounced yot-veh-deh) is an expression, in itself the initials of “janz weit draußen”, Berlin dialect for “ganz weit draußen”, which is German for “bleeding far away”. If you took the expression at face value, it would have to relate to the unattainable outskirts of Berlin (and as Berlin occupies a massive chunk of land, they are far, FAR away). But then again, most people use it just to describe the district adjacent to their own, as most Berliners need a pistol pointed at their heads in order to even consider travelling out of their “Kiez” (another Berlin word, which would vaguely translate into “hood”).

I’ll put my cards on the table and admit I also find it difficult to venture too far out of my comfort zone. Which was one of the reasons I was very proud of myself for going to Treptow for the sake of this entry. Treptow is what I have considered for a long time as true JWD, despite the fact it’s the next district to both Kreuzberg and Neukölln. Maybe it’s due to the fact that the area just seems to be synonymous with its massive park, which (with all my love for green spaces) is not what pops into your mind when catering to bustling urban communities.

Which is why I am glad to (partially) make amends for my mistake. I have heard rumours of Karl Kunger Straße becoming a new epicentre of something, but have been to lazy to actually go and check things out for myself. Which is a pity, because it is a fairly pleasing street altogether with a sense of unpretentious, down to earth Berlin vibe (or whatever that means. I start to sound like a walking Lonely Planet). This week, however, two friends of mine dragged me to Treptower Klause, which from the outside looks like a filthy Eckkneipe (another German word! We’re full of those today. It just means a neighbourhood pub, but a foul one of that), albeit with a handwritten menu that reeked of posh.

The latter impression was confirmed inside. It was one of these heavily wooden spaces with dim lights and minimalist furniture, all done in perfect taste with attention given to just about every detail. This is usually the moment where Berlin offers the possibility to chime in with an objection about the low quality of service. But the Treptower Klause was kind enough to spare us that. Even the service was friendly, accommodating and professional.

Mussels

Cod

The menu (of the changing variety) offers a limited choice of dishes that do not seem to have too much in common other than sounding vaguely nice (the main courses were mostly local, whereas the starters were from all over the European scale. I was grateful for not spotting anything based on curry powder, though). The starters we went for were a dish of mussels (served in a tomato-garlic sauce, 6.50 €) and a goat cheese-bell pepper terrine (for 5.50€, served with pine nuts and a small salad). They were both good. The mussels were excellent – good quality, nice quantity, perfectly well executed (I usually think mussels are better off without tomatoes, but that’s a matter of taste, and these were quite perfect regardless), not to mention good value. The terrine was fairly pleasing, but not inspiring. It had a good texture and the goat cheese made for a refreshing dish together with the peppers, the presentation was nice as well, but here, alas, the value was less convincing. For the price it lacked a more indulging taste.

We continued with osso buco (cross-cut veal shanks, served with polenta for 14.50 €) and a filet of cod (served with potato-gratin, spinach and mustard sauce, also for 14.50 €). Again, they were both tasty and both offered perfect value. The osso buco was even very good. The meat quality was impressive, the dark sauce was as refined as much it was tasty and the polenta was the perfect choice of sides for that very sauce. The cod was also good. The fish was convincing: Well done, yet fantastically juicy. The sides were fairly pleasing as well. The only problem was the sauce – it wasn’t bad – but it was no grand success either. It was too watery and the mustard was not well incorporated – somehow it was just bitter without conveying its actual mustardy-deliciousness.

Ossobuco

Atrocious mousse

So far - even with the minor critique - Treptower Klause would have been able to be short-listed for a five print mark if it hadn’t been for the dessert. I ordered the mousse au chocolat with a pear marinated in white wine (a miniscule portion of two minor balls of mousse served alongside a pear served for 5.00 €). After the initial size-related disappointment, I found myself relieved it had not been any larger. The pear was nicely marinated and fairly pleasing (or as pleasing as a marinated pear can be). The mousse, however, reminded me of the supermarket variety my mother used to buy in the 80’s. Unfortunately, not all childhood memories are positive. I still cannot get how on earth Treptower Klause managed to recreate the same taste without using chemicals instead of chocolate and let the end-product lurk around inside a plastic container for a few weeks.

But still, odd mousse or no odd mousse, go to Treptower Klause. It is a perfectly enjoyable spot with perfectly enjoyable food. Besides, going to Treptow will make you feel adventurous!

Overall Mark:

Treptower Klause

Karl Kunger Straße 69, 12435 Berlin
www.treptower-klause.de


Größere Kartenansicht

On Expats, Crocs and Breweries

Brauhaus am Südstern - Kreuzberg

Last week I found myself sitting in my kitchen with an older American lady and her over-developed sense of entitlement, wondering what to do for food. The conversation became truly impossible when her dark passenger came into the picture and she ended up twitching compulsively, grinding her teeth and growling “ethnic!” every time I suggested anything resembling German food.

Needless to say, I felt like punching her in the face. There is nothing worse than booing on an ex-pat’s attempt to present their country-of-choice’s culinary treats. I may have an interminable list of grievances relating to every annoying facet of the Teutonic way of life, but at the end of the day, I am still in Germany. Alive, kicking and paying taxes. Moreover, with visitors from abroad lurking around my Kreuzberg flat, I suddenly find myself getting strangely sensitive about the topic. I cannot seem to fend off the notion that I have to defend my choice of residence and forget everything I find so infuriating about the place.

As that lady was a tad older and made a whole speech not being able to walk unless carried or chauffeured, I ended up explaining to her that all “ethnic” restaurants were too far away and that if we wanted to avoid walking too much, the only choice we had was between German and Italian restaurants. She grudgingly accepted to try out German food, as the horror of forcing carbs down her throat (the Italian way) seemed to give her spasms she could not quite wrap her finger around. She then stashed her sense of entitlement into her handbag while changing her vile Crocs into less comfortable, yet equally vile shoes in order to go and check out Brauhaus am Südstern on Hasenheide.

Now there is nothing better than taking a random visitor from abroad to a brewery in order to do German food. The Brauhaus am Südstern brews its own beer (a dunkler and heller Stern, both for 3.40 € a pint. Definitely better than the local poison otherwise known as Berliner Pilsner/Kindl) and serves a large selection of bog standard German dishes from schnitzel to Bratwurst. It has a large balcony facing the street and another garden facing Hasenheide park in the back (luckily the small chunk of it that is still relatively unaffected by drug dealing of all sorts). The interior space is vast and is neither particularly inviting nor disturbing in any way. Teutonically standard would have to fit the bill even here.

It was a chilly evening and we started our meal with two soups: the ungarische Gulaschsuppe (Hungarian goulash soup, 3.40 €) and a Rote-Beetesuppe (beetroot soup for 3.30 €). They were both pleasingly substantial. The beetroot soup was thick and sourish with a touch of tomato. It was not very refined, but it had a strong presence and was overall one of these perfect dishes for a quiet evening. The goulash soup was a nice chunk of Germanness altogether: it was thick and stodgy, meat galore with a taste that was neither too overwhelming nor in any way bland. Again nothing close to an orgasm of refined quality, yet it was a dish was all the more pleasing for its no-bullshit value. It was inexpensive, large and filling.

Beetroot soup

Beer goulash

We continued to order stews: the Deftiges Biergulasch (beer goulash with Semmelknödel and red cabbage, 9.50 €) and the Boeuf Stroganoff from the menu of the week (for those who do not know what a beef stroganoff is, I’ll just have to describe it as slices of beef in creamy and mushroomy gravy, here it was served with a side of potato rösti and a salad for 12.50 €). The goulash was great. It was simple and hearty. The beer gravy was thick and pleasing and the meat was tender and fun. The Semmelknödel (bread dumplings) were just right – crispy outside and flavoursome inside. The cabbage was a bit bland, but then again, it was only a side of red cabbage. The Beef Stroganoff was – again – fun. It was a well-executed stodgy dish for a cold evening. It was not refined as the ridiculously French version of its name or the higher price might have suggested, but it was good quality for good value. The sauce was good (one often gets creamy sauces that are just creamy without any flavour to them, here it was just right) and the meat’s quality was more than satisfying. The rösti was more of a large potato pancake, but it was pleasant enough and gave the dish the Russian touch it would have otherwise lacked completely. We left so full that we could not even fit a dessert down our throats.

Goulash soup

Beef Stroganoff

At the end of the day, I can only recommend Brauhaus am Südstern. It may not be a culinary experience that will swipe you off your feet, but it does offer nice, hearty food for very affordable prices. If you happen to be around Südstern and feel like having a goulash, don’t be a stranger!

Overall Mark:

Brauhaus Südstern

Hasenheide 69, 10967 Berlin

http://www.brauhaus-suedstern.de

View Larger Map

Old Traditions Die Hard

Altes Europa - Mitte 

Considering the fact my life in Berlin is heavily based on lurking around in cafés and consuming copious amounts of cake, this blog has so far not been appreciative enough of one of the pillars of Berlin’s food culture: restaurant-cafés. Cafés with a real kitchen that serve real food. They are open all day long with most customers not necessarily showing up for the food, but rather for the coffee, cake and ambiance.

One such place is Altes Europa on Gipsstraße. With the years it has become one of my favourite institutions in Mitte (mainly facilitated by the fact I had discovered it in my first year in Berlin and it has remained literally unaltered since). The café is one of the nicer, more accessible and less pretentious spaces one can still find in Mitte, with nice cake, good coffee, and pleasingly appealing ambiance. The furniture is dark with ornate wooden chairs and random marble tables, all aiming for a second-class vintage feeling. The walls are directly painted on with naff pictures pertaining to various aspects of the European nature, my favourite being a rough brush work of a (blondly European) couple fornicating over a table.

Ever since I discovered it on a dreary February afternoon, I have considered Altes Europa to be more or less the only acceptable option for a caffeine-laden tryst around Mitte. Yet over the years I have constantly failed to sample the café’s culinary end, and strangely enough not for lack of wanting. With lunch and dinner menus changing on daily basis and a selection of intriguing German/local cuisine, I’ve always wanted to check out what Altes Europa had to offer beyond its espresso machine. And so, after years of waiting, one of many coincidences made me find my there way on a Sunday evening last week.

The evening menu was shabbily written on a piece of xeroxed paper handed in to us by the bitter waiter. The selection of dishes was fairly limited, and we started by ordering the only real starter on the menu, which was the Suppe von jungen Karotten mit Sesam und Koriander (carrot soup with sesame and coriander, 3.50 €). A large portion of a fairly delicious luquidy substance with tiny bits of carrots in it, it was both aesthetically pleasing as well as tasty.

We then continued with the Riesen-Pffiferlingsravioli mit Spitzkohlgemüse und Gruyère überbacken (large chanterelle-raviolis, baked with pointed cabbage and gruyere for 7.90 €) and an entrecote (made of what was supposed to be Argentinean meat with avocado paste and rocket salad and sweet-potato mash for 14.50 €). I have to say I did not like the sound of either dish. The baked raviolis sounded like a random “look what I’ve got left in the fridge” ordeal and the avocado paste together with that sweet-potato mash sounded like something that wanted to be pretentious, but fell short of getting anywhere near high brow. The raviolis were what they sounded like: random. They reminded me of the good old “beggars can’t be choosers” days in Berlin, when restaurants came up with the strangest ideas of the most disturbing mixtures that usually tasted the same: two things that didn’t work together (in this case chanterelles and pointed cabbage) strewn with cheese and baked in some random oven. It looked like an alien on a plate. And yet, everything covered by cheese is good, and it’s even better when it’s cheap. The steak was surprisingly far better. The meat was decent, that Northern European version of guacamole was pleasing (don’t even try to compare it to the real thing, but you can’t really whinge too much when you get something made of real, fresh avocados) and the sweet-potato mash was downright delicious. Somehow I ended up not minding that bizarrely mind-boggling combination.

Soup

Alien looking ravioli

The finale was the only dessert on the menu: Mango-yoghurt mousse with pistachios and grilled pineapple (for the price of 3.90 €). Another strange combination, I agree. We’ll start with the fact I absolutely despised gilled fruit. I find it to be a perversion I will never understand. But if you like grilled fruit and large desserts, you will like this one as well. The mousse was more than decent for the price and the pineapple was strangely juicy despite it being grilled.

Entrecote

Mousse

Bottom line: Altes Europa is a really nice place. The uninspiringly random dishes were well executed and the pricing was more than humane. I am not a fan of the menu selection, which would have otherwise left the place with solid three prints, but the pricing and the high quality of its ingredients (not to mention the place’s atmosphere) all convinced me to wiggle out a generous fourth.

Overall mark: 

Café Altes Europa

Gipsstraße 11, 10119 Berlin
Tel: +49 (0)30 2809 3840


View Larger Map

A Spring Diatribe

 Jäger und Sammler - Schöneberg

„Veronika, der Lenz ist da“ is probably the most accurate representation of Berlin’s quirkier side to this date. It became a hit in 1930 when the Comedian Harmonists, the first ever German boy-band (who had to flee the country for the bonus of being Jewish) started performing it: A spring serenade to a certain Viktoria about phallic asparagus growing in pre-war Berlin. Oh, springtime!

To be fair, the world that produced the Comedian Harmonists is long gone. Viktoria is probably dead, as are most of Berlin’s Jews together its pre-war flair. What’s left is that pure joy and excitement that never fail to arrive alongside the first day of spring, when everyone suddenly becomes nice, accommodating and flirtatious. The sour faced cashier at the supermarket who had grunted resentfully at the very sight of a customer just a day earlier suddenly winks suggestively as she licks her upper, voluptuous lip and asks the first male customer she spots whether he’d already seen their fresh Spargel. Spargel? Really? Now, that’s another example for the Comedian Harmonists’ legacy.

Spargel, or white asparagus, is the local spring obsession. During the asparagus season, every place in town - including Chinese, Indian and Mexican restaurants - will offer a bland asparagus menu for double its weight in gold. Inquisitive TV shows will screen special reports about this year’s Spargel-consumption and greedy farmers will erect half legal stands selling organic Spargel to those who can afford it. If it weren’t for the fact I found white asparagus completely useless, I would find it all quite amusing.

I grew up knowing that green asparagus was a delicacy, whereas white asparagus was used to feed the hogs. And I fully agree. White asparagus’s phallic form might be appealing to some, but it still has the consistency of sperm, being rubbery, stringy and mushy all at the same time. Before this diatribe takes me to places we all should avoid, I really should say I don’t mind white asparagus. I just do not see the point of serving it absolutely EVERYWHERE. What I find even more baffling is the fact people here actually eat Spargel as a main course with only potatoes as a side. To each his own, but I find that particular combination a tad too much.

And thus I was looking for a spring feeling without too much Spargel and decided to go and try out Jäger and Sammler (Hunters and Gatherers) in Schöneberg. It was one of the first sitting-outside-evenings of the year, and we decided to make the most out of it despite the fact that the interior was remarkably attractive. We soon discovered the place had a very limited seasonal menu, which suited us just fine. The only problem was that the only starter was a (Spargel) soup on a warm day, so we decided to just share the “spring risotto” to kick start the evening (risotto with beans, asparagus and spring onions, 10 €). And what can I say? The dish was perfect. Risotto is a tricky one. Especially in Berlin it can be either extremely bad or perfectly endearing with very few middle-ground compromises. This one managed to get everything just right with a perfect texture and a pleasingly light taste.

Risotto

Flounder

We continued to the main dishes, which were the Finkenwerder Mai-Scholle (a dish of fried flounder with bacon and a side of potatoes, 14 €) and Rinderschmorbraten (beef roast in a vinegar-cream sauce with a side of mash, 14 €). Both main courses were quite alright, but not inspirational. The fish was impressively large, nicely fried with greasy bacon, which made it quite pleasing in a piggy sort of a way. However, it was too greasy to be refined and the bacon tended to outshine the fish, which was, unfortunately, not the main idea when we had ordered a fish. The meat was good. It was tender, high quality and the sauce was also nice. If it had been a bit cheaper, the first course a bit less impressive and the restaurant a bit less fancy, I would have approved whole-heartedly. But it was not cheaper, the first course had set the bar fairly high and beautifully decorated restaurants raise expectations as well. Tough luck.

Roast

Panna cotta

Even though these main courses were more than filling, I am glad I was smart enough (not to mention obliged by the blog) to order a dessert. The only sweet treat on the menu was a panna-cotta (served with strawberry sauce for 5 €), which turned out to be a dream come true. For some unknown reason, panna cottas tend to be fairly unimpressive. People who don’t know how to cook think vanilla creams are always an easy option and usually get it wrong (or bland, which is even worse). But Jäger and Sammler was one big exception to the local rule. It managed to get everything right: the cream, the texture, the strawberry sauce and the visual presentation. It was a fantastic way to end a meal.

At the end of the day, Jäger und Sammler is a good address. It is a sterling example of how some restaurants manage to raise expectations before getting to the main course, just to create disappointments with food that is fairly good, but just not enough to rise to the challenge of perfect ambiance, ambitious menu and wonderful starters and desserts. And yet, don’t let it scare you off. It is a perfect four-printer.

Overall mark: 

 

Jäger und Sammler

Grunewaldstraße 81, 10823 Berlin
www.jaegerundsammler-berlin.de


View Larger Map