The Joy of Being Posh

Le Cochon Bourgeois - Kreuzberg

My favourite pastime in my first year in Berlin was to correct people who told me I was living in Germany. “I’m in Berlin, you fuckers. Berlin is NOT Germany.” Or so goes the line? Alas, I’ve been disillusioned since. I am now a proud protagonist of the “Berlin is very much in Germany” theory. No need to repeat all of that. I’ve ranted about Germans in so many posts that it would be getting tedious if I started this one doing the same. So no. What I did want to say about Berlin and Germany was (hopefully) a bit more intriguing than just that. It’s the age discrepancy between Berlin and the rest of Germany.

Do you see what I’m trying to say? Probably not. So here goes nothing. Think of the most ubiquitously German attractions: Neuschwanstein, half-timbered houses, the Black Forest. They all conjure up an image of beauty and greatness of yore. But then take a look at Berlin, the capital, the icing on that Black Forest Gateau,  and it seems to reject all of the aforementioned romantic paraphernalia. Not only is Berlin younger than your average German town, but the 20^th century left such a mark of the city’s landscape, somehow marginalising the influence of all that had preceded it.

There is no need to retell the story of Berlin’s topsy-turvy history during the 20^th century. You Know Who between 1933 and 1945 and that wall between 1961 and 1989 are reasons enough for any place to change its appearance and identity. But what it also means – especially in comparison to other places in Germany – is that the 20^th century also made it impossible for Berlin to have old institutions.

At the end of the day, the effects of the war are still visible just about everywhere in Germany. But still, in most German towns one will still stumble upon old culinary institutions that have been around since the time eccentric kings still ruled the land. Lübeck’s 1960’s concrete market square has a Niederegger café and Munich’s got its Hofbräuhaus, both founded a very long time ago. Berlin, however, is a bit weaker on institutions. Things that have been around for a while. There are exceptions, of course, like the old and endearing  Baumkuchenlieferant (the official Baumkuchen supplier for the Kaiser) in Moabit, but they are few and far between. Berlin is often about the modern and the edgy.

Which is why I sometimes enjoy walking around West Berlin, finding things that have been around for longer than just a few years. Restaurants that assert themselves as small, local institutions (needless to say, due to a couple of historical interferences, it remains largely a West-Berlin phenomenon). Fichtestraße in Kreuzberg is the proud home of a few such venues, established places that have been around for a long time. Somehow the entire street manages to exude something dignified and appealing, which means most restaurants are priced accordingly.

One of these places is Le Cochon Bourgeois – a poshly French restaurant. The space inside looks like a flat converted into a public house and then decorated to produce an image of austere luxury. A bit like a pearl necklace dangling from a rich lady’s neck, Le Cochon Bourgeois does not go past the bare essentials, but it does it extremely well. No posters on the walls, no fancy decorations hanging from the ceiling, no loud music to distract you from a bad date (if this is what you happened to need). But after a second thought: why would anyone in their right mind bring a bad date to Le Cochon Bourgeois?

Boudin

Mousse

First of all, it’s pricey. Secondly, it’s too good for a bad date. We started with the two most different starters one could think of: a boudin (the French equivalent of black pudding, served with celery puree and apples for 8.00 €) and a goat cheese mousse (served with various green stuff for 7.00 €). They were both splendid. The boudin was perfect: the right consistency creating a refined mass where no one on earth would be able to imagine this was just a blood sausage. The sauce, the puree and the apples all seemed to dance along to the same music. It was like a whole party – but just in your mouth. The mousse was perfect as well, with just the right smoothness combined with a fantastically rich taste.

We continued to the mains, which were even pricier. We opted for the confit the canard (duck confit, maybe my favourite dish in the world, 26.00€) and veal medallions (fairly expensive, but what the heck: 32.50 €). I wish I could rant about the fact posh restaurants are just not worth the money and all that jazz. But I really can’t. It was all fairly perfect. The confit was brilliant, with the taste of something that had been marinated in fat for ages, just without the actual fat dripping from it. The medallions were tender and quite incredible, with a perfect match between the meat quality, degree of cooking, consistency, and yes, the sauce. All good. 

Medallions

Wonderfully weird

We were not sure whether we wanted to have dessert, but after one stern look from the wonderfully chatty waitress we decided it really was now or never. We opted for the boringly solid option (crème brulée, 7.00 €) and for the strangely unappealing one, which was nonetheless highly recommended by that same waitress (red cabbage in passion fruit marinade, nougat mousse and white coffee mousse for 13.50 €). The crème brulée was solidly wonderful: Just right, perfectly by the book. Yet the real surprise was that other thing. “The world belongs to the brave” was what the waitress said once we’d ordered the cabbage thingy. And she was right. Think of something that tastes of passion fruit with a cabbagy texture with two fantastic mousses on top and a piece of caramelised joy on top of that. Well, it was an experience, and quite a brilliant one of that.

The damage aounted to 130.00 € for a three-course-meal for two with one wonderful bottle of wine and another bottle of water. I forgot to mention we got small surprises from the kitchen between the dishes (a small soup and a sorbet, also excellent). It’s far from being cheap, but it was worth every cent. Go to the Cochon Bourgeois. It’s not cool, it’s not edgy, but it’s wonderful nonetheless. 

Overall Mark:

Le Cochon Bourgeois

Fichtestraße 24, 10967 Berlin

www.lecochon.de

Größere Kartenansicht

Teutonic Pizza: A Guide to German Cultural References

Rocco und seine Brüder - Kreuzberg

Who owns a city? I’m not talking about rich people who own the land (who may not even live there) or the municipality that provides the services. What I’m aiming for is to get to the bottom of deep philosophical issues. I can see you are frowning at the screen and thinking of closing this window. Be my guest if you want to, but this is serious stuff! I stumbled over this question yesterday after the 4^th G&T at a new, cooler-than-thou expat venue in Kreuzkölln. It was packed with trendy people. Yet it was the first time I felt a pang of superiority beside the usual feeling of pure, green envy.

I think the superiority bit came after listening to a girl from North London with a butterfly pinned on her beautifully coiffed head explaining why Berlin was HER city after mere 1.5 months. And why she was here to stay. She was giving tips and recommendations, talking about areas that are cool and others that are “so passé”. There was a lot of sneering involved. And the only thing I could think was: “Really? Your city?” So I just smiled back as if you’d smile to a slightly retarded child who had just done something resembling a failed imitation of a snotty Pug.

This girl actually made me feel superior. Not because I’m any better. All I can say for myself is that I’ve been here long enough to speak the language and get a feeling for the culture. It’s merely about time. And yet. Her sheer chutzpah, ignoring the time factor and the hard-earned lessons it brings, made me think: what makes a person own a city? Is it enough to know your geography and know the cool safe-havens in town? I believe it takes more than just that.

Because at the end of the day, even though Berlin may seem so un-German to the untrained eye, it is still in Germany (as the saying goes). And immersing oneself into the folds of Teutonic culture requires a deeper understanding of local codes, local aesthetics and local references. Unfortunately for the newcomer, local references are not always pleasant or easy to learn. Being exposed to deep-end Germany often requires developing a 6^th sense for repellent schlager singers (I still wouldn’t be able to distinguish Roland Kaiser from Udo Jürgens even if my life depended on it), commenting the latest Bauer-sucht-Frau developments, and moreover, recognising Inka Bause (Bauer-sucht-Frau presenter) if you saw her walking down the street in lederhosen. These are things locals know automatically. But for us expats, learning all these references is a long, excruciating process.

The ever-elusive game of German references was the defining experience of this week’s dinner at Rocco und seine Brüder – a popular pizza restaurant behind the church on Lausitzer Platz in Kreuzberg. A couple of VIVA presenters had taken control of the next table and as the conversation drifted to commenting old German TV-presenters, I found myself at a loss. To make things worse, Rocco und seine Brüder is one of these themed restaurants, based on an Italian film from the 1960’s that used to be extremely popular in Germany. Most Germans around me seemed to have regarded the film as an integral part of West-German culture (even though it was about the Mezzogiorno. Oh, the intricacies of European culture), which made the photos on the walls and a few of the pizza-names accessibly witty for them. I, however, could only nod and smile as my table companions commented different aspects of the ambiance.

And yet, the place is pleasingly alive and nicely unpretentious. The tables are crammed on top of each other and the service is jovially accommodating. The menu is fairly simple, with starters and pizzas making out the two only categories available. We began with the anti-pasti platter (for two, 12.80 €), which I found to be fairly disappointing. It contained all the right things: a bit of cheese, a bit of sausage, a few oily vegetables and fresh ingredients. But the quality was not quite there yet. The cheese was very simple (the taleggio was alright, the mozzarella was the cheapest version available and the bland slices of the Gouda-looking rubbery cheese were completely unnecessary). The meat was alright, but nothing more. The other ingredients were not bad, but on the other hand, they were not refined or pleasing enough to justify those 12.80 €. 

Antipasti

Mario Adorf

And then came the pizza. The menu contains two whole pages of different pizzas, for prices starting at 7 € and ending with 11.90 €. We chose the more luxurious ones: the Mario Adorf (mozzarella, taleggio, cèpes, 9.50 €) and the Tartufo (truffle, rocket salad, 11.90 €). They were both quite good, but far from perfect. The biggest problem was the dough: it was a bit too thick and dry in all cases. In that same vein, slicing through the Tartufo was quite an ordeal. The toppings, however, were fairly generous and pleasing. The Mario Adorf (a German speaking actor from South-Tyrol in Italy) was more wholesome than the Tartufo, which came hidden under a mountain of salad, which was as dry as it was green. There would be other details which were not perfect, but at the end of the day, the pizzas were quite enjoyable.

Rocco und seine Brüder is a thoroughly enjoyable place. The food would not be the first and foremost reason to go there – it’s not bad, but it’s not exciting either. However, the ambiance makes it a perfect location for a friendly evening with a few friends, a hearty pizza and a gargantuan carafe of wine. Before you go there, be sure to google the Luchino Visconti’s film Rocco e i suoi fratelli (Rocco und seine Brüder). This way, you’ll always have a  knowledgeable remark available for any witty exchange. 

Overall Mark: 

Rocco und seine Brüder

Lausitzer Platz 13, 10997 Berlin

www.roccoundseinebrueder.de

Größere Kartenansicht

Korean Hipster Bashing

Kimchi Princess - Kreuzberg

I have promised myself not to start another entry with a new report about the weather. Another weather rant would set the seal on my creative ambitions, as it would – justifiably – appear as if I had nothing else to write about. I mean, I would not like to convey the impression my life had no more substance than discussing the weather and watching Downton Abbey (a fine neo-Victorian combination if there ever was one).

And thus heavy hearted I realised I had no choice but to opt for the second least original activity after talking about the weather (and procrastinating with Downton Abbey): hipster bashing.

I usually try to keep hipster bashing to myself. First of all because everyone else around me (especially Two Broke Girls) does it so much more eloquently than I ever will. Secondly it’s because deep inside I really am a failed would-be hipster. And yes, I’ve finally said it: I see all these young people with a trust fund somewhere in their pantry and coolness smeared all over their collars and I get green with envy. Literally. My insides turn with nausea that is not so much hatred as it is pure jealousy. As we all know, the aspiring kind is usually worse than the real thing.

The obstacles preventing my metamorphosis into a real hipster are manifold. First, I don’t have the right parents. Meaning – no trust fund to speak of. The only trust my parents ever bestowed on me was a grave talk about the lack thereof as I had taken (my parents used the word “stolen”) my mother’s only ring and given it to a friend back in year one. The second reason for my acceptance of being nothing more than an aspiring cool person for the rest of my life would have to be my aversion of stupid hats and neon colours (beside the fact my hair gets too rebelliously curly when I try coaching it into an asymmetric hipster-do). It’s not that I haven’t tried. I once even walked through Dalston wearing skinny neon-coloured trousers, thick rimmed clear-glasses and a stupid hat with a butterfly on top, but I think it was too obvious I had the wrong hair beneath my hat and that I felt like a court jester in what I was wearing. Not owning your look is probably the biggest deal breaker on the hipster credibility (a.k.a. coolness) scale.

For a long time being spießig in Berlin had been my refuge. I had been inherently cool by proxy of being an expat in Berlin and inherently free of hipsters because I usually went for good food. This week’s visit to Kimchi Princess in Kreuzberg taught me that the times, they are a-changing.

So Kimchi Princess, right? I’ve known the place for a while. It was the first credible Korean restaurant in Berlin. It is also – like – designed and stuff. A large space divided into a main space and second floor amidst post-industrial wannabe beams and construction elements. Dimmed lights, nice accessories, the lots. Not only is it all beautifully executed, but they even have a cooler-than-thou club facing Skalitzer Straße. And needless to say, the place is packed. Has been for a while, but this time I was just overwhelmed by the amount of strange neon-coloured hats that greeted me as I had set foot past the threshold. Fortunately enough though, as I had not reserved a table we had to be seated in the crouching corner away from the coolness (where you sit Japanese-style on a higher platform and crouch over a low stool). This way I was actually able to concentrate on the menu.

The menu at Kimchi Princess has always been quite blissfully manageable. It contains a few starter classics, the usual Korean grills (starting with 16 € per person) and a few Korean classics. We did not try any of the grills, but rather chose to concentrate on the more affordable parts of the menu (knowing that the real Korean test is the holy trinity of the pancake, kimchi and bibimbap).

Kimchi Pajeon

Bibimbap (not yet mixed)

The starters were the mul mandu (steamed meat dumplings, 4.50 €) and kimchi pajeon (kimchi pancakes, 6.70 €). It was an OK start. The portions were large, the presentation pleasing and the overall quality was high. The dumplings were fairly well executed – just the right texture and moisture, the right size and all. The seasoning was fine as well, but lacked something in order to be perfect. Alright really. The pancakes were good. The Korean softness was there and the entire thing was a fine experience. No complaints. Other than the fact that the kimchi pancakes are supposed to be heavenly (no exaggeration here. My short life has introduced me to a fair amount of kimchi pancakes that made me want to re-enact the entire orgasm scene from When Harry Met Sally and to mean every bit of it). Those were just nice. They tasted too much like pizza and too little like kimchi.

And so we continued to the main courses: the haemul udong (a spicy noodle soup with seafood and tofu, 10.50 €) and the unavoidably classic bibimbap (a hot pot with rice, beef, vegetables, egg and spicy deliciousness that you get to mix up and enjoy, 10.50 €, also available for 9.50 € in the vegetarian variety). They were both served alongside an impressive selection of sides (these change every time. The only obligatory one is – of course – kimchi. That wonderful, stinky Korean cabbage which really is what Korean heaven is made of. This time it was accompanied by bean-sprouts, anchovies, green beans and green cabbage, all marinated in something rather pleasing).

Udong

Kimchi

The soup was alright. The noodles were delicious, one could argue about the amount and quality of the seafood used, but the general size of the dish was impressive and the general taste very agreeable. The best thing about it was that broth managed to be pleasingly spicy and have a strong presence all at the same time. The bibimbap, however, was more than just alright. It was really good. And that’s an improvement. I know I’m supposed to base my reviews on that one evening only, but the reason I had not set foot at Kimchi Princess for a while before that evening was because their bibimbaps had been just alright whereas Madang and Ixthys offered superior choices. Well, no more, or partly so. The ones at Madang or Ixthys are still better, but this week’s bibimbap at Kimchi Princess was A LOT better than what it used to be like. The meat was just right, the overall size, taste and abundance of the other vegetables as well as the taste and availability of the spicy red bean paste were very good as well. At last, I managed to actually enjoy a bibimbap at Kimchi Princess without too many ifs and buts. And now to the sides, not any less important here. They were actually all very good. The kimchi, the most important one, was also another sign of improvement – I used to find the kimchi at Kimchi Princess fairly bland. It still isn’t the best in town, but the cabbage had just the right consistency and age, the seasoning was good as well. Definitely enjoyable.

At the end of the day – Kimchi Princess is a good address. Good Korean food in a very pleasing setting. There may be cheaper and better quality Korean restaurants in Berlin. However, what Kimchi Princess lacks in pure food quality, it compensates with the accessories: service, ambiance, presentation and oh yes, how could I ever forget – coolness.

Overall Mark: 

Kimchi Princess
Skalitzer Straße 36, 10999 Berlin
www.kimchiprincess.com


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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


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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


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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


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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


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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

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

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