Berlin on a Platter

Tandur Oven Bread at Lasan

At Kottbusser Tor, there's a hideous block of apartment buildings built over Adalbertstraße. Tucked underneath the apartment block is a Kurdish Iraqi restaurant called Lasan that boasts an authentic tandur (tandoor) oven for bread-baking.

I've spent many an afternoon standing at the window looking in at the ovoid clay tandur oven, its interior glowing red-hot. A baker neatly portions off balls of bread dough, all the exact same size, then rolls them out quickly with his hands, drapes them over a towel-wrapped mold and then, using the mold, quickly sticks the raw bread dough onto the glowing wall of the tandoor oven. Minutes later, the bread dough puffs and blisters and soon enough, the baker pulls the finished disc of bread off the hot oven wall and flings it, rather elegantly, really, onto a cooling rack. It's mesmerizing stuff.

But I'd never actually gone in and eaten anything there before. Until last weekend, when we were out for a long stroll on Sunday afternoon and found ourselves famished at a strange, in-between time when it wasn't quite lunchtime anymore and it was still far too early for dinner. We headed inside Lasan and figured we could find something light to tide us over. I ordered a plate of hummus and Max got a plate of tabouleh (tabbule, taboulé, as you wish) and a kebab.

I'll get to the bread in a minute, but first of all, people, this tabouleh was a revelation. I'd go so far as to say it was the platonic ideal of all tabouleh. It was incredibly fresh and zingy. Every mouthful felt refreshing. There were tiny flecks of minced onion all throughout, but the onion flavor was really restrained and delicate (which won me over, since big chunks of harsh onions in my mouth never fail to irritate me to no end) - perhaps they'd soaked the onion in ice water before using it? Light and fluffy and with just the right ratio of parsley to bulgur and tomato (equally finely diced as the tomato), I couldn't stop stealing forkfuls off of Max's plate. It was delicious. (Lasan offers a tabouleh sandwich, which might be what I have to order next time I'm there).

The hummus was just fine, creamy and earthy and not too heavy on the tahini. Swiping it with piping hot pieces of tandoor bread torn off the round placed between us was the real fun. Make sure when you go that you get a fresh, hot round of bread. It's crispy on the bottom and chewy on top and fragrant and irresistible. If it's cooled, it loses a lot of its charm.

Another highlight on the menu for a slightly, um, larger gathering is a whole roasted lamb with enough bread for 20 people for the bargain price of 190,- euros. (They'll deliver to your home, if you like.) You'd have to order the sides separately, but doesn't this sound like a pretty great reason to have a party?

Restaurant Lasan
Adalbertstraße 96
10999 Berlin
(030) 698 14 098

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

The Best Ice Cream in Berlin

I was first introduced to Vanille-Marille last summer, by a dear friend who lives near the tiny, pink Steglitz location of this homemade ice cream manufactory. We were gathered around her dining table for lunch when her husband slipped out the door and returned, 15 minutes later, with little cups filled with mango sorbet, dark chocolate ice cream, raspberry sorbet, pink grapefruit and more. We all - aged 74 to 3 - fell silent as we spooned up dessert. My mouth sort of glowed from the inside out - the flavors of the fruit sorbets were clear as bells. The dark chocolate was silky, but not too rich, and packed a huge wallop of pure, well, chocolatiness.

I went back several times last summer, even brought Molly with me when she came to visit. I decided eventually that pear (Birne "Gute Luise") was my favorite flavor of all, having long been smitten by the fruit flavors in particular. Berthillon and Grom may be famous worldwide, but Vanille-Marille could absolutely beat them.

Vanille-Marille opened for the season a few weekends ago so this past weekend, I finally took Max to see what all the fuss was about. We drove to the Kreuzberg location, just around the corner from Mehringdamm, and found a big line. But undeterred, and thrilled to be in the sunshine, we stood and waited our turn. It's just as well to have a little bit of extra time, after all, how could you choose your flavors properly otherwise?

I got Marille aus der Wachau (apricot from Austria) and strawberry with mascarpone, both ice creams, not sorbets. The strawberry was very nice, creamy and speckled with little seeds, but the apricot instantly shot to the top of my list, surpassing even the pear. You know how when you eat a great sorbet, you think to yourself that it tastes even better than the actual fruit its based on? That you'd rather be eating that than the fruit? That's what the apricot ice cream was like.

Max got caramel beurre salé, Madagascar vanilla, and sesame ice cream with caramelized honey. The sesame, in particular, was fabulous. Roasty-toasty, shot through with honey, it was complex but still delicious, a grown-up dessert masquerading as an afternoon snack. I also loved the salted caramel.

There are still so many flavors I want to try, like elderflower-mint or Sicilian pistachio (can it top Grom's stellar pistachio, I wonder?) or marzipan with chocolate, plums and a shot of Schnapps or rhubarb-strawberry with vanilla. But I also just want to keep eating the ones I've already fallen for, to faithfully order apricot and pear each time I return.

What a conundrum, I know. Thank goodness for ice cream season!

Vanille-Marille now sells pint containers filled with single flavors to take home (or bring to a dinner party, lucky ducks).


Vanille-Marille
Hagelberger Straße 1, 10965 Berlin
or
Leydenalle 92, 12165 Berlin
(030) 789 54 731

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)

Furious at Angry Chicken

The next time it's 3:00 am and you're drunk and hungry after a night out in Kreuzberg, I know just the thing: scoot over to Angry Chicken at Görlitzer Bahnhof for a serving of Korean fried chicken, crispy and spicy and garlicky and saucy (wet naps provided free of charge).

Owned by the same folks who run Kimchi Princess, Angry Chicken is a little hole in the wall around the corner from the restaurant, with a counter, four stools and a cook who fries up chicken wings in crispy batter and then dunks them into sauces with varying degrees of heat. Angry, So-So Angry (which is hotter than Angry, confusingly), Sexy, Friendly, and - my favorite - Furious.

I'll admit, I wanted to order Furious just for the name alone. Furious Chicken! It kind of makes me laugh. Then, when I told the cook my order, he actually warned me away from it. It's too hot, he protested. Just get the Angry Chicken! And if we were anywhere but in Berlin, I might have listened to him. But, folks, I'm getting more and more impatient with the piffle that passes for heat and spice here, so I defied him and ordered it nonetheless.

And, yes, it's hot! Thank goodness, and, finally. The smallest order comes with six wings and you might find yourself having to take a breather between wings four and five, or three and four, as the case may be. But the burn, oooh, it feels so good. The chicken wings are nice and plump (and halal, if that matters to you) and I found the chicken surprisingly ungreasy, though it may be due to the fact that the level of heat in the sauce made it difficult for me to taste such nuances clearly.

Angry Chicken
Skalitzer Straße 36
10999 Berlin

Hudson's: Cakes, Soups and Sandwiches

Hudson's, a new café on Boppstrasse, straddling the border between Kreuzberg and Neukölln, already has done one thing to win my heart and that is to offer bottles of tap water and glasses on every single table. If I could have a nickle for every time a waiter in Berlin has grudgingly brought me a glass of tap water after I begged for it, I'd be rich.

Jim and Katie, the owners of the café, were until recently wholesale bakers, delivering their homemade and very delicious cakes, such as the deep, dark Chocolate-Porter cake (using Lausitzer Porter instead of Guinness) or the Hummingbird, stuffed with carrots and coconut and pineapple, to a few select cafés in Kreuzberg and Neukölln. Now they've got a place of their own and it's a very fine place indeed. With a few tables, a fine selection of teas, baking equipment for sale, and a small menu including sandwiches and simple soups along with all their baked goods, Hudson's is a cozy place to stop in for a bite.

They make a mean lentil soup, each spoonful studded with a big chunk of chewy, smoky lean bacon. It's the kind of lentil soup I wish I had in my home arsenal, pitch-perfect.

Their sandwiches are simple little things, English in pedigree and more snack than grand lunch.

And their cake slices are normal-human-sized, which I deeply appreciate, and not too sweet. Yet still appealing to little kids, as you might be able to tell from that vise-like grip.

Hudson's
Boppstrasse 1
10967 Berlin

Little Otik

I had such a good dinner on Friday night.

Imagine: A pickle plate. Mussels. Brussels sprouts and bacon. Bread charred over an open flame. The perfect blood orange drizzled with honey.

A bunch of girlfriends and I were at Little Otik in Kreuzberg, the restaurant run by a former Diner cook who moved to Berlin a few years ago and ran a supper club called Palisaden before "going legit", as he called it, and opening a proper restaurant. The look and feel of the restaurant is a little Berlinisch and a little New York-y, with wooden plank floors, simple tables, and almost unadorned walls. There's a cozy bar at the front of the room, and a small menu and mismatched plates add to the charm of the place. In the spirit of the times, the menu includes a list of local farmers, purveyors and vendors from whom the cooks source their meat and produce.

The nice thing about going out to dinner with women is that you can order a bunch of appetizers and sides without anyone across the table looking at you cockeyed. I am powerless in the face of pickles, so I ordered the pickle plate (which was nothing special, the vegetables were a little dry), a side of hashed Brussels sprouts with homemade bacon and caraway (so punchy and powerfully flavored that they could give the colatura-slicked, chilli-speckled ones at Franny's a run for their money), and a pile of mussels in a spicy, thyme-flecked broth (oh, to have been alone in that room, free to delicately guzzle the gutsy broth from the plate).The mussels were perfect: impeccably fresh and well-cooked with nary a closed one among them. They came with a little tower of fire-charred country bread for dunking.

(I apologize for the photos, I had nothing but my cell phone and, honestly, I will never get over feeling deeply awkward about photographing food in restaurants. I kind of hate myself every time I do it.)

Someone else ordered the wines, a nice Sancerre and the truly wonderful Hensel Aufwind. And we tried every single one of the desserts on the menu: a sharp little slice of puckery lemon tart, a sticky toffee pudding that was too dry for my taste, wonderfully boozy prune-Armagnac ice cream, a good milk chocolate pot de creme and my personal favorite, a plate of perfectly juicy slices of blood oranges and a few delicious dates, all drizzled with honey. I could have eaten the whole thing.

What I loved about the food at Little Otik was that it was approachable, simple fare prepared so deftly and well that if I lived any closer, I'd eat there every week (for the Brussels sprouts and blood oranges alone - and next time I'm ordering the deviled eggs to start instead of the pickles). It's not 4-star dining, but that's not the restaurant's aim. Elevated home cooking is an art form and I'm thrilled that someone in Berlin is doing such a good job at it. I can't wait to go back.

Little Otik
Graefestrasse 71
10967 Berlin
(030) 503 62 301