Berlin on a Platter

Jäger und Sammler

All I have to show you from my dinner at Jäger und Sammler is this snapshot of the dining room, taken moments before I left after dinner. I was out with a group of girlfriends and vague acquaintances and felt sheepish about taking a photo when my dinner plate was first placed in front of me, so I hadn't. Eh, I thought to myself. The last I-don't-know-how-many meals I'd had out were such a disappointment that I hadn't even wanted to mention them on the blog. Why would this meal be any different? There was no point in shooting the meal anyway, I figured.

But then it turned out that my dinner, a piece of perfectly cooked salmon (I mean, perfect, folks, textbook) on a bed of sautéed spinach, fingerling potatoes and tiny roasted tomatoes, was delicious. So good that when I cleaned my plate, my first thought was actually to flag down the waitress and ask for another order. I'm not even kidding. It was so good.

The menu is tightly edited - there are only a handful of appetizers and entrées and only two desserts - and the focus is, I'd say, seasonal Italian with German influences. The room is warm yet airy, with Altbau flair - long wooden plank floors, Stuck on the ceiling, a big wall of cookbooks crammed in every which way. And the service is good, friendly, relatively quick. For Berlin, pretty great.

Two in our group ordered beef cheeks that came served on mashed potatoes with broccoli and brussels sprouts and the servings were massive - neither of them could finish their plate. Another ordered spaghetti marinara, in the Italian sense, with clams and mussels, and the serving was so dainty it would have passed as an appetizer in an American restaurant. So there was some unevenness to the portion sizes, I guess. But did I mention how perfect my salmon was? How moist and tender and flaky and delicious it was? How I wished I'd had twice the amount of spinach and tomatoes and potatoes on my plate because they were all so good? Right. Let's put the quibbles aside and just focus on how wonderful it felt to have such a simple, pleasing meal in such a nice space.

So wonderful, in fact, that I'm going back on Friday with my husband and close friends and I plan on trying far more from the menu this time: appetizers, maybe a dessert, and I'll definitely be stealing from our friends' plates. Stay tuned.

Jäger und Sammler
Grunewaldstraße 81
10823 Berlin-Schöneberg
Tel: 030 700 94 084

Japanese Imbiss Heno Heno

Yes, folks, another day, another lunch spot on Kantstraße. I can't help it! It's my little Asiatown.

Actually, Heno Heno is also open for dinner. It's a little sliver of a Japanese Imbiss around the corner from Stuttgarter Platz and I first read about it on Mel's blog. It's really a hole-in-the-wall: There's a counter with stools and then three tiny little tables only big enough for two rather slim eaters. (A warning: There's no restroom.) The vibe is all rather relaxed and homey, which befits the simple menu. Also, there's always good music playing.

Heno Heno serves homestyle Japanese cooking, with almost no sushi in sight (the exception being oshi sushi, an Osakan method of making sushi by pressing rice and herring, in this case, together in a wooden box). There are a few simple appetizers (house-pickled vegetables and onigiri are the plan for my next visit), a few rice dishes topped with meat or vegetables and an array of noodle soups (either udon or soba). That's pretty much it.

The first time I went, I had an udon soup that seemed a lot murkier and grainier than I'd been used to at the noodle shops I used to go to in New York. But it certainly tasted quite authentic, nice and seaweedy and sweet with miso.

The next time, I couldn't resist the edamame (which came at room temperature, sadly; I'd kind of wanted them piping hot), which were delicious - I spooned a little bit of the spice mixture from its beautiful bowl with that delicate little spoon onto the edamame plate and then dunked each bean into the pepper.

For my lunch, I ordered the vegetarian don with an egg on top - the smallest size. Perfect for my appetite, I could just about finish it. What you get is a bowl of hot rice topped with a very molten poached egg, ground sesame seeds, slivered seaweed, cooked greens, sliced scallions, a few mushrooms and shredded carrots. If there was more in there, it was well camouflaged. Using your chopsticks, you hack and mix everything together until you have a fragrant, sweet-salty, chewy mixture of rice and vegetables and sticky egg yolk clumping together under your chopsticks.

With a mug or two of hoji-cha, roasted green tea, it was just the thing for a gray day. Sitting at a small table, marveling at the tiny wooden pepper spoon, a ceramic tea cup nestle in my hands and a few simple Japanese cooking instruments hung over the stove, I almost felt like I'd been teleported somewhere far away. I love that feeling.


Heno Heno
Kantstraße 65
10627 Berlin
(030) 663 073 70

Classic French at Le Piaf

Readers, I'm sorry for the long silence. Finishing the manuscript for my book consumed my August, our honeymoon blessedly took us far away in September and now in October, I've been waiting impatiently to hear back from my editor while battling a nasty flu and trying to meet a clutch of deadlines for freelance assignments, while all the cellphone photos documenting the few meals I had out in Berlin over the past few months languish on my cell.

In any case, I thought I'd make it up to you by coming back with one of my favorite restaurants in Berlin. I might even go so far as to call it my favorite restaurant in Berlin, though, I'm always wary of hyperbole like that. Suffice it to say that this place is pretty darn special. I'm talking about Le Piaf, a small French restaurant tucked into a tiny Vorgarten on Charlottenburg's Schloßstraße.

Run by two French men, one in the kitchen and one in the front of the house, it has a sharply edited everyday menu (terrine and cornichons or snails to start, a few salads, three mains) and a regional menu that rotates every month or so, written up on a few big chalkboards that are propped up around the restaurant. One month, the focus might be on Brittany; the next, for example, is on Provence. There are wine pairings to go with the regional menu and a prix fixe option. The restaurant is made up of a few small rooms, with only a few tables squeezed into each one. This gives the warm, cozy feeling of being in someone's home.

Last winter, Max and I went there one weekend and decided to have a proper French dinner. The regional focus that month was on Burgundy, so I had oeufs en meurette (Max had a plate of tiny, crisp, greaseless fried fish). My poached egg with its molten yolk came in a little casserole pot, balanced on a slice of savory, sauce-soaked toasted bread and doused in more of that delicious, winey meurette sauce. It was hard not to gobble the whole thing up in a matter of seconds. I tried to restrain myself. There was a slab calves' liver in a mustardy cream sauce as a main course, alongside a fabulous slice of potato gratin, all the better for wiping up the delicious sauce. And for dessert, we had vacherin, a confection made up of layers of meringue, whipped cream, raspberry purée and pistachios, all bathed in a pool of not-too-sweet crème anglaise. I thought I was too full for more than a forkful and ended up battling Max for the last shards of dessert.

Everything was so correct, as the French would say. It all tasted just as it should. It was clean, simple, pure food, and done just right. In fact, we ate better at Le Piaf than we did in the entire week we spent in Paris over New Year's (with one exception), much to our surprise.

I could scarcely believe my good fortune. This was the best French food I'd eaten in so long. And it was right around the corner from our place! Plus the waiters were charming, there was a cheese tray (with cheeses from Maître Philippe) and really good Crémant d'Alsace for the apéritif (I am a sucker for sparkling wine). It swiftly become our place for celebrations (if it were open for lunch, we would have celebrated our wedding there, too). Everyone needs that kind of place, don't you think? Le Piaf is it for me.

On the last night of August, the evening I finished my manuscript, I decided I needed to do a little something special for myself. I hadn't showered in days and I'd barely slept. I'd deteriorated to feeding myself potato chips and cereal. The glamorous life of a writer, well, it ain't so glamorous on deadline. But that night in August, I was finally done. I needed to celebrate, but I also needed to be alone. I wasn't ready to even face another person yet. So I headed to Le Piaf. The hostess did a little bit of a double take when I asked for a table for one, but she recovered soon enough and before too long I was sitting alongside a mirrored wall, with a glass of Crémant in front of me.

For dinner, I ordered two appetizers, since I didn't have much of an appetite. First came one huge artichoke with a little pot of creamy vinaigrette (the second pot was spiked with herbs, I didn't like it as much). I peeled off leaf after leaf from the artichoke, dipping it into the vinaigrette and sucking off the sweet vegetal flash with my bottom teeth. The heart was tender and silky. With each leaf, I felt my old self come back. 

I followed with a carpaccio of sea bass and white peaches. The peach slices were firm as could be, but incredibly fragrant and their sweet flavor went beautifully with the fish. There was lemon juice and salt and pepper sprinkled on top to tie everything together. It was the perfect single girl meal: light and restorative, a little indulgent, and most of all, fun. 

Though the hostess had been a little awkward when I asked to sit alone, the French waiter couldn't have been more gracious and polite. I felt really special that night, just as I'd hoped, just as I do every time I go there. I felt well-fed and taken care of, which is a rarity in restaurants these days, not just in Berlin. It's such a little gem, Le Piaf - I hope it never changes. (It's been there for 15 years; let's hope it has just as many years ahead of it.)

Le Piaf
Schloßstrasse 60
14059 Berlin
(030) 342-2040

Tapas at Bar Raval

Any place that serves sparkling wine in a coupe instead of a flute automatically shoots to the top of my list. It's a silly little detail, sure, but drinking out of a coupe feels special and a little glam and I really kind of love it. It always makes me think of Marilyn Monroe trying to seduce Tony Curtis in Some Like It Hot. This is to say that our late dinner at Bar Raval on Friday got off to the right start.

I loved the space, a sort of sprawling corner restaurant on Görlitzer Park with bar stools and high tables in one corner and cozy wooden tables and banquettes in the other. Daniel Brühl, the half-Spanish, half-German actor of Goodbye Lenin fame, is one of the owners. Rumor has it that he's been to every tapas bar in Barcelona.

Our Spanish waitress was a doll. She was a little harried, but so professional and friendly and kind. She even apologized when a drink got delayed - something that hasn't happened to me (the apology, not the delay) since I left New York.

With our drinks came a complimentary little dish of olives, juicy, salty, green ones that we found ourselves fighting over. When we placed our order for tapas, we mostly stuck to the classics: pa amb tomaquet, tortilla (with vegetables), boquerones, croquetas, salt cod fritters and my very favorite, pimientos de padròn.

The pa amb tomaquat was lovely - the bread was toasted over an open flame and charred in places, the crumb was nicely soaked with tomato and olive oil. I could have eaten the whole plate (though I'm a bread-and-tomato fiend, so take that with a grain of flaky salt). The pimientos were piping hot and crunchy with salt. It's hard to get these wrong, isn't it? Max got three out of the four spicy ones, poor guy. The spicy one I had was so hot it made my eyes water.

The tortilla looked pretty classic, but when we sliced into it, we realized that the eggs were a thin casing around a juicy filling of mixed vegetables: zucchini, peppers, eggplant, potatoes, onions and mushrooms. It was incredibly filling. It wasn't the most ethereal tortilla I ever had, and Max said he would have preferred the classic potato tortilla, but for a change, it was nice.

The salt cod fritters were greaseless and crisp. And the ham-and-cheese croquetas, two to an order, were fantastic. One of those with a glass of cava and you'd have yourself the very best bar snack. I could barely finish mine - they were quite filling and rich with hammy flavor.

The boquerones (marinated white anchovies) were the one misstep in our meal - they didn't taste particularly fresh.

Still, it was one of the nicest dinners we've had out in a while. I loved the atmosphere in the restaurant, which was relaxed and jovial at the same time. We weren't really hungry at all by the end of dinner, but couldn't resist ordering the molten chocolate cake for dessert (so dated, it's true, but so delicious, too).

It was flavored with a little too much orange for my taste, but this didn't stop either one of us from practically licking the plate. The filling to casing ratio was sort of perfect and the hot chocolate mixed with the cold vanilla ice cream on the side, well, there's a reason this cake took the world by storm. And this was a darn good version of it.

When we got our bill, we were given two complimentary shots of an herbal liquor that tasted like fennel. Max was driving the car and I was so happy with our meal that I found myself enthusiastically drinking both. We walked out into the Kreuzberg night feeling pleasantly aglow with food and drink. It was such a good night.

Bar Raval
Lübbener Strasse 1
10997 Berlin
(030) 531 67 954

Chinese Broccoli, My Love

Every so often, I wake up and think, "Today I need some Chinese food." And then, if I don't immediately go and eat some steamed dumplings or hot-and-sour soup, I spend the rest of the week in a weird funk where nothing else really tastes good or appeals to me. I don't have this admittedly strange habit with any other cuisine. Maybe it's a low-grade MSG addiction?

I think it harks back to my childhood when my father would faithfully order takeout from a Chinese restaurant near our apartment once a week. Not a single week went by without moo goo gai pan (2nd grade), moo shu pork (3rd grade), hot-and-sour soup (5th grade) and so on. In college and my New York years, I graduated to much spicier stuff, but my weekly calls to the local Chinese joint always remained a constant.

Let's not get into how much I miss "real" Chinese food in Berlin. I've beaten that one to death. Instead, let me tell you about how last week, I woke up with my faithful hankering and went to Aroma with my mother for gai lan and roast pork. It hit the spot.

After trying a lot of mediocre Chinese places in Berlin (from Ming Dynastie across from the Chinese embassy to the many holes-in-the-wall on Kantstrasse), Aroma is where I go whenever I need Chinese food. It reminds me of fancy Chinese restaurants in the States, with thick carpeting, an all-male wait staff and high prices. A good sign is that there are always a lot of Chinese families eating at the round tables.

Aroma has the tastiest dim sum in Berlin (it's not the Greatest Dim Sum Ever!, but it does the trick and that's good enough for me -  here's Mel's post that never fails to make my stomach growl) and although I ignore about 99% of their menu, I can never resist the gai lan (Chinese broccoli) or bok choy or pea shoots (if they have them).

To round out my order of delicious Chinese broccoli (crisp-tender, fragrant with garlic and sweet), I asked for a plate of barbecued pork, which was lacquered in the signature Chinese style. There was far too much of it, but it was tasty as could be. (Plus, never forget that leftover Chinese pork and cold rice make for a very nice fried rice the next day.)

My mother made the mistake of ordering some gloopy noodle dish with vegetables and pork that was totally insipid. So be forewarned, folks. You still have to be on your guard. The forces of bland, pan-Asian food lurk everywhere. But if you order wisely, you could be enjoying rice noodle rolls and stir-fried Chinese greens and lacquered pork very soon.

Aroma China Restaurant
Kantstrasse 58
10625 Berlin
(030) 375 91 628

Sunday Brunch at Café Aroma

The sacred weekend brunch buffet is an institution in Berlin. And though it can be tempting to try out a different café each weekend, trekking across the city in search of 5 euro, all-you-can-eat, groaning tables, I'd venture a guess that you'll get mighty sick of the same array of bought-in-bulk cold cuts, bowls of fruit salad, cubed feta cheese with chopped tomatoes and arugula (at the progressive places!) and boiled eggs as the weeks go on. I know I did. 

Then Sylee told me that a favorite Italian restaurant of mine in Schöneberg, Café Aroma, also did a Sunday brunch. And that it was good! Not the usual cold cuts and Brötchen, she said, and that's really all I needed to know. We headed there the next weekend with some friends.

Café Aroma has been at the top of the adorable Hochkirchstraße, nestled into the Rote Insel part of Schöneberg, since 1987. Run by what seem to be an assortment of Italian friends, both in the kitchen and at the front of the house, it specializes in homey Italian food, simple and pleasing. On Sundays, the restaurant opens at 11:00 and boasts a groaning board placed directly opposite the bar when you walk in. Come hungry and be patient with the limitations of your own belly. You'll want to fill your plate several times.

There are tiny meatballs in tomato sauce so good I'd bottle it. There are lovely roast potatoes, squidgy and herbal. There's poached salmon and roasted peppers. Stuffed mushrooms and cauliflower in homemade béchamel. Wedges of frittata. Breadcrumb-stuffed calamari. Grilled slices of zucchini and eggplants. Little squares of lasagne. Slices of imported Italian salami, tender and almost sweet. Some dishes are there every time we go, some things are new each time we're there.

Everything on the brunch buffet could use an extra dose of salt, but this seems to be a Berlin-wide malaise. I don't really understand it. Otherwise the food is fresh and tasty and impressively varied. Aroma's not interested in using chafing dishes, which results in some dishes that should be served hot being a little lukewarm, but that doesn't really bother me (how un-Italian of me, I know). I'm just so pleased to have found a brunch spot that I love going to again and again.

If you've got room at the very end (I never, ever do), there's always tiramisù and fruit salad and a few other desserts (the last time we went, there were creampuffs and a berry-topped Bavarian cream).

It feels like our own little Berlin secret, to be nestled in Aroma's four walls on a sleepy Sunday morning, hearing the waitress banter in Italian with the bartender while we munch away contentedly. A walk up and down the streets of the Rote Insel afterwards, passing the cemetery where the Brothers Grimm are buried, helps with digestion and prolonging that languid Sunday feeling.

Café Aroma
Hochkirchstrasse 8
10829 Berlin
(030) 782 5821

Celebrating Asian Tapas at Transit

Oh, how I have despaired over the state of Asian food in Berlin. There are a few gems here and there, but for the most part it's a sad state of affairs - sticky-sweet sauces, deep-fried foods, "Thai" sushi (heaven preserve us) and other abominations. Where were the loud dim sum halls I knew from New York, filled with stone-faced ladies pushing carts filled with myriad kinds of delicate dim sum? Where were my beloved pea shoots? Cambodian sandwiches? Malaysian laksas?

Gone, baby, gone - that's what happens when you leave New York for Berlin. You leave behind cockroaches, expensive apartments, leaky subways and transcendant Asian food. But I decided I could live with that. After all, I moved to Berlin for far better reasons than the food. Right? Right.

When Max went out to dinner with a friend last year and came home raving about the restaurant, Transit on Rosenthaler Strasse, I was interested but on my guard. Max was known to order "Thai" curry, after all, from a dodgy "Chinese" storefront on Lietzenburger Strasse run by Vietnamese cooks. But he also fell in love with the underground food courts in Flushing, gobbling up incendiary dan dan noodles and cumin-dusted Xinjiang meat skewers. So I knew he knew from good Asian food.

The restaurant had a small plates menu and Max couldn't stop talking about all the crazy flavors, textures and tastes he had sampled in each plate. Asian tapas? It sounded gimmicky and weird to me. But he was so enthusiastic and so excited that I had try it for myself.

It turns out he was right - Transit is delicious.

The menu is made up of a bunch of small plates with goofy names. Chicken Little, Bathing Beauty, Little Swimmer - you get the picture. The food ranges from spicy (really) Thai salads (green papaya, grilled beef, chunks of fruit with chile and peanuts) to velvety curries to a luscious assortment of dough-wrapped delights like duck with plum sauce in Chinese pancakes with slivers of cucumber or minced chicken and mushrooms in steamed rice dough. It's a mish-mash of Thai and Vietnamese dishes with some Chinese and Indonesian influences.

From the meat to the vegetables, everything is very fresh and nothing tastes canned, not even the crazy sweet-sour sauce enveloping deep-fried chicken skin, pineapples and peanuts. This is definitely the menu's trashiest offering (and Max's guilty pleasure). To balance it out, though, you can order a plate of stir-fried vegetables, which, on our last visit, included gai lan as well as regular broccoli, and that made me almost as happy as a plate of pea shoots would.

For two people, we usually order somewhere between 6 and 8 dishes. The room is bustling and busy (make sure you have a reservation if you go) and in the summer, there's a lovely garden out back as well. Who knew that of all places, this one would turn into the place we go when we have something to celebrate? Berlin is full of surprises.

Transit
Rosenthaler Strasse 68
10119 Berlin
(030) 247 816 45

Burrito Bowls at Dolores

I'd heard about Mission-style burritos being served at a Mexican joint in Mitte called Dolores for a while. I wasn't all that eager to get there, since burritos had never really been my thing. But one night, after a movie at Babylon and starved for dinner in those darkened streets where food can be very hard to find, we found ourselves looking into the bright, colorful Dolores.

It turns out that Dolores doesn't just do burritos. Their menu reads like a souped-up version of Chipotle's, with burrito bowls, salads, agua frescas and soups rounding out the offerings. We put together our burrito bowls, which came topped with homemade tortilla chips and sat down to dig in. I was underwhelmed. The iceberg lettuce piled on top skeeved me out a little and the food beneath it was just okay. Eh, I thought. Another disappointment. Par for the course.

But my friends Margue and Daniel, whose tastes I always trust, raved about Dolores whenever I saw them and when we found out that Dolores was opening another location on Wittenbergplatz, far closer to all of us than the Mitte location, they could barely contain their glee. What was I missing? I had to go back and find out.

I am so glad I did. For one, the Wittenbergplatz location is lovely. It's airier and bigger than the original one in Mitte, with a lovely view out onto the square, the fountain and KaDeWe.

Second of all, the food was really good. According to their website, the Wittenbergplatz location is offering some new items that the Mitte location doesn't yet have, like soft tacos. I saw pork pibil on the menu, made with organic meat, achiote and habañero peppers, and I practically did a double take. They must mean business, I thought. After all, there's no way to tame down a habañero, right? So that's what I got in my burrito bowl, along with a couple different spicy salsas (if you eschew sour cream and cheese, they'll let you get two salsas).

The meat was saucy, complex, spicy and falling apart at the poke of a fork, while the salsas were fresh and delicious and as spicy as they promised to be. In other words, just right. I ate up my entire bowl, even the iceberg lettuce. (Which still skeeves me out. But I'm willing to look past it now.) And couldn't get over how good it was, especially after I'd been so underwhelmed the first time. (I blame it on the chicken?)

I've been back a number of times since. I even ordered the chipotle soy meat once and you know what? Combined with the fajita veggies and the three-chile salsa cruda, it wasn't half bad. In fact, I could get kind of used to it. But the pork pibil is still the thing to order here.

Long live the habañero! Bless you, Dolores, for keeping things spicy.

Dolores Wittenbergplatz
Bayreuther Strasse 36
10789 Berlin
(030) 548 21 590

Berkis at Winterfeldtplatz

I almost don't want to write about Berkis, because it's already hard enough to get a seat in this place. But I like it so much that I can't keep it a secret. The first time I went to Berkis, just off of Winterfeldtplatz, we actually stopped in late for a sandwich after a movie at its little take-out corner, next to the main room of the restaurant. We had simple gyros sandwiches, but they were really exceptional. The meat was so delicious, the fries were fresh and snappy, the tzatziki was thick and gorgeous. For three euros a pop, the sandwiches were a steal (the meat is all organic and humanely raised).

Ever since that evening, I've only been back to the actual restaurant, which is so good I may never eat another one of their gyros sandwiches again (though that would be a shame). Berkis makes authentic home-cooked Greek food, simple grilled fish, lovely meze. It's a good, reliable neighborhood spot that makes me curse not living in the neighborhood every time I pass it.

I almost always just order off the daily specials menu, because I've had such roaring successes from there over the past year (long-stewed lamb in tomato sauce, falling off the bone; veal and artichokes braised in a lemony sauce; tender grilled octopus; you get the picture).

The last time I went, I ordered these long roasted peppers to start. Slightly peppery and slicked with good oil, lemon juice and little slivers of garlic and chopped parsley, they were delicious. I could have eaten a whole plate only of these, mopping up the juices with bread.

Next was a simple grilled orata that was one of the best pieces of fish I'd ever eaten. Almost sweet with freshness, cooked exactly right, with just the right amount of charred flavor, it almost melted off the bones.

The fish came with a side of simple vegetables: long-cooked Swiss chard, boiled potatoes, drab-looking squash and carrots. But the Greeks are like the Italians in this respect. They know how to cook the ever-loving daylight out of vegetables in just the right way, leaving you with intensely flavored, sweet vegetables so wonderful you would - once again - be happy with only these for dinner.

Berkis
Winterfeldtstraße 45
10781 Berlin
(030) 779 00 402

Taqueria Ta'Cabrón

Any out-of-work taqueros in Berlin looking for a job? Taqueria Ta'Cabrón is hiring and, from the looks of it, the kitchen seems like a nice place to work. The other day at lunchtime, there were a clutch of people in there, laughing and chatting away with each other in Spanish, rolling burritos and piling fillings onto tacos.

Psst, if you do take the job, can you do me a favor, though? And get the cooks to make the "really hot" hot sauce just a little hotter? Maybe slip a few extra chiles in here and there? Just a few. The thing is, the weird paralysis to serve anything hotter than a bell pepper that seems to infect every ethnic eatery in Berlin seems to have struck here, too, even though I know there are folks eating there every day who can definitely handle a few jalapeños or habañeros more. I just know it.

I came to Ta'Cabrón on the recommendation of my friend Mister Rios, who says it's as authentic as Mexican cooking gets in Berlin. The taqueria is a sunny, friendly room painted with bright colors. You order at the counter and then your food is brought to you. They serve everything from tacos to burritos to enchiladas and tostadas. There are daily specials (albondigas, perhaps, and a creamy soup to start) and even a dessert like flan. I ordered the tacos with cochinita pibil, long-cooked shredded pork topped with pickled onions (yum), and they came with a tiny tangle of shredded lettuce and cubed tomatoes as well as a little puddle of refried beans (delicious).

The tacos were very tasty, but sadly lacking in heat (the little glass bowl you see in the middle there is one of two freshly made "hot" sauces you can spoon over your food yourself. I was told that this one was the spicier version, but it really was pretty mild). I know I sound like a broken record on this blog - I'm starting to get sick of the same complaint over and over myself - but it's really frustrating to know that cooks the city over are dumbing down their food because of the perception that their main customer base can't handle the heat.

I wish - oh, how I wish! - I could give all those cooks and restaurateurs more confidence, promise them that if they cook the way they cook at home, with all the heat and spice that the recipes truly call for, they will find their customers! But something tells me they won't listen, not to this one lone voice.

I liked the tacos and can't wait to try the other things on the menu, the tostadas, for example, or one of the daily specials. Maybe, if I come often enough, they'll start to slip me more of the spicy stuff. Maybe. A girl can dream, after all.


Taqueria Ta'Cabrón
Skalitzer Straße 60
10999 Berlin
(030)