Berlin on a Platter

Karlsbader at Czerr Bakery

First of all, please forgive the slightly dented look this Karslbader is sporting. I bought two last week, ate one right then and there on the sidewalk outside the bakery, flaky bits flying every which way, and then put the other in my bag before setting off on my way to Hugo's baby music class. I figured I'd have time to snap a shot of the Karlsbader later, but later turned out to be the next day, after I'd fished the bag out from under my wallet, a few of Hugo's toys, an empty milk bottle and some groceries. It looks a little worse for the wear here, so please imagine it slightly fluffed and puffed to get a good approximation of what it should look like when freshly purchased.

Second of all, if you don't already know about Czerr bakeries, consider this your hot tip. They are a family-owned small chain of bakeries found only in the greater Wilmersdorf-Friedenau-Schöneberg area. Their products are really solid and delicious (I'm partial to their Kosackenbrot, which makes fabulous whole wheaty toast, and their rustic rectangles of apricot cake, flavored with lavender or almonds) and it makes me feel good to support a family-owned, local bakery that doesn't import Brötchen from China or some similar nonsense.

But my main point is this: I'd forsake everything else Czerr makes to guarantee myself a lifetime supply of their Karlsbader. What, you've never heard of Karlsbader before? Well, I hadn't either until one morning shortly after I moved back to Berlin, I went to Czerr for some breakfast rolls, saw a croissant-type thing on the display shelf, was told it was a croissant made with bread dough instead of puff pastry, bought it, ate it and was smitten on the spot.

Fresh Karlsbader are crisp and flakey, but without any of the greasy fingers or leaden belly croissants can impart. They have that lovely minerally, yeasty tang of good bread dough, but are light as a feather, shattering all over the sidewalk or your plate, depending on where you eat them. I like to wodge a knife of orange marmalade inside of one and then eat it gingerly over my plate. I also like to eat them plain walking down the street. I think Karlsbader are an absolute treasure and one of the best reasons to prove why small independent bakeries must be kept alive by our patronage - if only to keep things like Karlsbader from disappearing from this earth. I've never seen them anywhere else.

Oh, and one last thing: if you want your own, you should head out early - Karlsbader are usually sold out by 11:00 am in the morning...

Brot & Butter's Quarkstulle

The fact that this slice of bread, moist and sour and sporting the thickest, crispiest crust, spread with butter and a half-centimeter of Joghurtquark flavored with chives and seasoned with salt, costs 4 euros and 50 cents (that's $6.40, to put it in perspective) is a little insane. In fact, if I let myself think about it, it's more than insane.

My solution? Not to think about it. And to go to Brot & Butter only rarely, when I'm feeling like I can spend that much money on breakfast (or a very light lunch). But it's too bad the service at Brot & Butter can be brusque and snappish, too. If I'm paying that much for a piece of bread with Quark, I'd like a polite waiter or at least a prompt one. But such is life in Berlin.

On the flip side, the Stulle is delicious. The bread was still warm and the moist crumb combined with the creamy, salty, savory topping was an absolute pleasure. I remember eating one of these last summer, when it was hot and gorgeous for weeks on end, sitting outside at one of the tables in front of Brot & Butter. I'd gone in to order something to drink and the very nice barista offered, faced with my indecision between hot tea or a glass of juice, to purée fresh strawberries into some buttermilk for me. It was such a delicious drink. He was so nice. I loved that morning.

The other day, when I ordered this Stulle, I asked the unsmiling waitress if they might be able to do that again. I probably should have known better when she turned away wordlessly and stalked back into the store. When she returned to my table, she plunked an unopened container of buttermilk, like you'd buy at the grocery store, in front of me with a glass. Ah, yes.

(How do people like this stay employed?)

 

Brot & Butter
Hardenbergstraße 4-5
10623 Berlin
(030) 263 00 346

Buchteln at Backwerk

I'm lucky enough to live within walking distance of several bakeries that still do all their own baking in-house. One of them is Bäckerei Hutzelmann that specializes in Silesian baked goods (their schlesische Quarkpirogge is a thing of beauty - but only available every once in a while). Then there's the cult organic Brotgarten bakery (their Mehrkornbrot is my holy grail). And just around the corner from Brotgarten is Backwerk. Max discovered a twice-baked bread loaf at Backwerk a few weekends ago, with a super-crisp, blackened crust and a wonderfully flavorful crumb. I went back on Saturday to get more of it and while there, my eyes fell on a tray of Buchteln.

What are those, you say? Why, just plump, burnished yeast rolls, spangled with sugar, being sold either plain or filled with dark, sticky Pflaumenmus.

Be still my beating heart. You see, I am powerless in the face of Pflaumenmus and sweet yeast dough. Utterly powerless. I bought one, took it home, sliced it open and ate it for a snack. It was wondrous. Light, fluffy, yeasty dough, puckery Pflaumenmus, sugared fingers to lick - I don't know if I've ever found a better breakfast, snack or German baked good. Yes. That good.

If you're thinking the Buchtel looks an awful lot like a Pfannkuchen, you'd be correct. Basically, they're the exact same thing, only the Pfannkuchen is fried and the Buchtel is baked. So Buchteln are even good for you!

Get 'em while they're hot, folks.

Backwerk
Nehringstraße 3
14059 Berlin
(030) 322 3625

Pasam Baklava

On a grim strip of Goebenstraße, straddling the gritty border of Schöneberg and Kreuzberg, is a little jewel box of a bakery selling nothing but baklava. I ducked in there yesterday after a day spent criss-crossing town on my bike to finalize the transfer of my driver's license once and for all. After hours on trafficky streets, Pasam Baklava was a silent oasis of calm. It's family-run and all the baklava is made fresh in the back room.

There were eight different kinds of baklava to choose from, filled either with walnuts or pistachios and then varied by whether there was also semolina cooked into the filling, or semolina with milk. Some baklava were made with with kataifi dough instead of phyllo, rolled into little cigars or tiny crescents. I had visions of hosting a Middle Eastern dinner party, with trays and trays of baklava served for dessert.

My favorite was the classic Fistikli baklava, with a simple pistachio filling (seen on the left). Söbiyet, with semolina and pistachios, and the eponymous Pasam Baklava, with a pistachio-semolina-milk filling were pretty good, too, though. The pastry was crisp and fresh, the honey syrup was cool and sweet, the pistachio flavor true and clear.

I especially liked seeing who came in to buy boxes of baklava to take away: a burly piano mover, a construction worker with dirty pants, and then a young man who ordered six pieces, sat down next to me, ate quickly and left again.

Pasam Baklava
Goebenstraße 12a
10783 Berlin
(030) 219 62 383