Berlin on a Platter

Thai Noodle Soup at Preussenpark

This is neither here nor there since it's January and I don't think anyone even goes to the Thaiwiese in Preußen Park in January, but I found this photo the other day while cleaning up my computer and it jogged my memory and I thought it best to share it with you before it gets lost in another rat's nest here.

What you're looking at right there is a bowl of Thai pork noodle soup, eaten last fall on a very blustery day. Hugo was asleep in his stroller and my mother and Max and I were having lunch sur l'herbe and it was lovely, as usual. We've been there several times now and have sampled our way through quite a few stands. The whole fried fish with chili sauce is incendiary, delicious and slightly stomach-rumpling. The papaya salads are lovely, the crosshatched mangoes with chili salt (if you can find them) a very nice dessert indeed. But on this particular day, I found my favorite thing that the Thaiwiese has to offer and that would be this noodle soup.

Now there aren't that many people selling noodle soup there. In fact, I have a feeling the vendor we bought from might be the only noodle soup vendor? The only one I've ever seen, in any case. There are two choices, beef or pork, and watching the soup get made is almost as good as eating the soup. The raw meat is delicately plucked from its metal container and cooked in searingly hot broth while little pork or beef balls wait their turn. Softened noodles are placed in a serving bowl and then the cooked meat and balls and broth (the broth!!) are ladled on top.

The broth is a work of art - full of punchy, clear, meaty flavor that isn't muddied at all. The noodles are delectably chewy while the meat is tender and flavorful. There are all kinds of condiments you can add to your bowl, but the soup is perfect as is - I wouldn't change a thing. This is street food of the very best kind.

Thaiwiese im Preußenpark
between Fehrbelliner and Konstanzer Straße U-Bahn stops
Charlottenburg-Wilmersdorf

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

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

Luxa's Hot Sauce

Have you been to Luxa on Torstraße at Rosa-Luxemburg-Platz? You need to go, if only for the hot sauce. The hot sauce, people. The hot sauce. It is good enough to eat with a spoon. It is good enough to make you sit around at home and contemplate why this hot sauce is so darn good and what could make it so. Sometimes I think about going to Luxa and asking them for a hot sauce sandwich. Heaven on a plate, trust me.

It's obsession-worthy, especially when paired with their yogurt sauce (that I'll bet you thought was tahini in the photo above, right?). That yogurt sauce, all sour and cool, paired with the hot sauce, which is deeply tomatoey and fruity - but not sweet - and spicy and incredibly fresh-tasting and just, well, perfect - it's enough to make you never want to eat another meat sandwich in Berlin again.

Luxa is run by Kurds (I'm assuming Turkish ones) and it sells schawarma and falafel and an array of Middle Eastern sweets that look, well, sweet. They're not the friendliest food vendors in this city, but I don't even really care. Because of that hot sauce. That hot sauce! It makes up for a multitude of sins.

Luxa
Torstraße 56
10119 Berlin
0171 187 1110

Barbara's Kaffeetafel - Lunch at the Market

These past few weeks have been of the magical Berlin sort. You know, the kind where you walk outside your front door and are sort of overwhelmed with the loveliness of Berlin. Or is it just me? In any case, I'm grateful for it, for all the trees losing their blossoms and carpeting the streets with white and pink clouds, for the good, fresh air, for the happy crowds spilling out from cafés and on the banks of the lake near my house, for getting to live here.

And I'm grateful that when I go to a green market as lovely and bustling as the one at Winterfeldtplatz (so buzzy and crowded compared to when I used to go there with my mother, thirty (!) years ago), gathering up rhubarb, scallions, asparagus, fresh butter and good bread galore, thereby working up a slightly ferocious appetite, that there is bowl of puckery potato salad and Maultaschen in a savory, homemade broth just waiting for me, right there in the market.

Barbara's Kaffeetafel sells all manners of cakes (and a seriously gorgeous, burnished poppyseed Hefezopf), but what seems to truly be the bulk of her market business, at least, are her homemade Maultaschen (Swabian ravioli, for lack of a better descriptor), filled with meat (traditionally) or a spinach-fresh cheese mix. You can buy the Maultaschen by the piece to take with you or you can order a few for lunch right then and there. They come floating in a light, tasty beef broth or are served next to vinegary, faintly oniony potato salad (I could eat just the potato salad and be happy, too - it's pretty stellar). They're very good - savory and filling, the pasta dough toothsome with just the right amount of chew. The stand also sells freshly prepared salads - sliced beets or cabbage slaw, for example. Barbara's Kaffeetafel also caters, makes wedding cakes, offers cooking classes at your house, even delivers homemade cakes to you, if desired.

We ate our lunch standing up at the table next to the stand, just like I used to eat my Würstchen on that very same market square as a little kid with a bowl cut and stripey pants, and I practically got the shivers with happiness at this whole full-circle business.

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

Tacos Berlin

As anyone will tell you, New York may have Jean-Georges and Mario Batali, more than one Chinatown and the Tavern on the Green, but good Mexican food is few and far between. That coupled with my age-old dislike of cilantro conspired to keep me in the dark about just how good real Mexican food can be. A trip to Baja in 2007 cured me, but quick, and I even learned to love cilantro, well, at certain moments.

I'll never forget the dusty little town we stopped in for lunch one day that September, a stray dog watching us as we ate our dripping tacos, sliced radishes at the ready, incendiary green sauce drizzled everywhere. It was one of those special moments where everything was just right: the people, the food, the strange, buzzing heat of the midday sun. I fell hard that day.

Anyway. I'll admit I was surprised to find tacos almost as good as those and certainly far better than anything I've had in Berlin or New York at a sweet little taco truck parked along the canal in Neukölln last weekend. Three euros buys you two little pork tacos, fresh and hot and delicious, from a friendly vendor who takes the orders while her slightly frantic coworker mans the flat-top. We ate them standing up, pork juice and sauce dripping down our hands and even though a chilly Berlin afternoon is nothing like a sunny Mexican noon, it was still a lovely moment. Suddenly I had visions of a party in the park this summer with the taco truck at the ready. Who's with me?

My other question is, when is this taco truck opening up an actual hole-in-the-wall taqueria? Soon? Tomorrow? Please?

Tacos Berlin
[email protected]
(0176) 851 26 284

Bibimbap on Bundesallee

Just behind the bus stop on Bundesallee where I used to stand as a shrimpy 6th grader, waiting for the city bus that would take me to Fehrbelliner Platz, where the school bus would be waiting to take me down to school in Zehlendorf, there's now a big Korean grocery store called Silla. Compared with other "Asiamärkte" in Berlin, Silla is by far the neatest and cleanest and brightest that I've been to. It also seems to have the best prices.

And it happens to serve my favorite bibimbap in Berlin. (I'm not a fan of Ixthys, though I know it's a lot people's favorite. The Bible verses creep me out, not to mention the sticky menus and the so-so food.) Silla's bibimbap is impeccably made and tastes fresh as can be. And it's so nice to eat lunch with your eyes watering, don't you think?

Silla has a lunch counter, too, you see. The menu is short and I really only ever order the bibimbap, because the other stuff feels overly sauced to me (though Max is always happy with what he gets and there's no skimping on hot sauce). The bibimbap comes sizzling in its little bowl, with a healthy dollop of chile paste, fresh little batons of cucumber, seaweed, some unidentified greens, a tangle of bean sprouts, you know the drill. The egg is always perfect: the white just set, the yolk still molten.

I find waiting the right amount of time before starting to stir everything together is always the trickiest bit of eating bibimbap, because when the dish gets set down before me, the scent of sesame seeds wafting up to my nose, I am instantly ravenous. But I also love that crust the rice forms.

While you wait for lunch, you can walk around the store and go shopping. My favorite Korean barley tea, tamarind paste from Thailand, big plastic bags of Korean red pepper, homemade kimchi, Japanese vinegar, pickled ginger. It's all there and then some.

Silla
Bundesallee 23
10717 Berlin
(030) 863 95 300

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

The Currywurst Chronicles, Part I

I'm compiling a list of my favorite places to eat Currywurst, so we spent yesterday on a Currywurst tour - from Warschauer Brücke to Wittenbergplatz. I kept note in my Moleskine about the different ketchups, atmospheres, Brötchen, and - of course - Würste themselves and we did our very best to not come home with acute indigestion.

Mission: Successful! (Though Currywurst #2 almost did us in.)

This will be an ongoing feature here - just be patient, since I'm not sure we can survive a Currywurst excursion more than once every few months, seeing as we'd like to grow old with our original arteries and all.

First up: the Biers 195 stand under the Friedrichstrasse S-Bahn, an offshoot of the one on the Ku'Damm. This was Max's favorite. The sausage was pretty much perfection: freshly fried, with a wonderful crunch when you bit into it, and great flavor. (My motto is to always order mit Darm (the casing). The lady who served us also explained that Currywurst mit Darm means the sausage has been smoked, while the ohne Darms haven't. News to me.) But, and this is a big but because I am a ketchup freak and would eat it by the spoonful if I could, the ketchup was a little too sweet and floral, mixed with a sort of black peppercorn-y fragrance. It's what kept me from giving this place an A+. The place itself is as nice and cozy as a sausage stand gets. It's heated, a big plus in my book, and the people who work there are sweet. The roll, a pretty standard-issue Currywurst Brötchen, was warm and fresh. We left hungry for more.

Currywurst #2: Sometimes in life, you must indeed judge a book by its cover. Or a Currywurst by its appearance. Or...whatever. This one was as painful to eat as it is to look at. We'd read somewhere that to try a real "Ost" Currywurst, we should go to the stand at the Warschauer Brücke. (Konnopke's is closed on Sundays, which is why we didn't go there.) Plus, the owner of the stand is a Fleischermeister, which we figured must translate into some kind of quality. Oh, ho ho ho. No.

The Currywurst, pre-fried and lying in a puddle of old, warm oil, was plopped onto a plate and unceremoniously shoved over the counter to us. I guess they get environmental points for using real plates and silverware, but the sight alone of what we were about to eat was sort of daunting. The sausage was soft, both inside and out. Not good. I liked the ketchup better than at Bier's, but the curry powder knocked over the top was harsh and didn't mesh well. Ultimately the old oil was the main problem. We left the stand feeling a little queasy. It got worse by the time we got to the next stand at Kottbusser Tor, which was mercifully closed. But then: were we going to let one nasty sausage do us and our mission in? No, we were not. A few deep breaths and a drink of water helped. On we went.

Isn't this the prettiest Currywurst you ever did see? Our third stop was Witty's on Wittenbergplatz - an all-organic snack stand. Not only are their Currywurst made with organic and sustainably-raised pigs, but they'll serve malt vinegar with their (very, very delicious) French fries, if you like (along with six other sauces). It was also considerably more expensive than the other stands (3 euros for a Wurst, no roll, but that's the price of organic for you).

The ketchup was fantastic. I - er - literally licked the little paper plate when we were done (told you I had an unhealthy relationship with ketchup). It was vinegary and sharp and wonderful. But the sausage was a little lacking - it was too soft and didn't have enough snap. Keep in mind, these are the quibbles of two Currywurst nuts. Witty's Currywurst is a very good specimen, indeed. In fact, I'd list it in the top five of my favorite stands in Berlin. And the fact that it's organic (in my mind) goes a long way.

Diagonally across from Witty's is Fritz & Co, run by the same folks, and one of my very favorite Currywurst stands over the years. Their sausages are made with Neuland meat, meaning it's not organic, but was raised sustainably, with an eye towards animal welfare (artgerechte Tierhaltung). Here, the details really make the difference. First of all, their ketchup is served hot, which I sort of love, especially if it's a day with driving wind and rain (exactly the kind of day made for Currywurst-eating, really). Second of all, the rolls they serve are crusty and crunchy and deeply delicious. Almost baguette-like? Really wonderful. The sausage was freshly fried and piping hot, but it had a milky aftertaste that neither of us could place. It wasn't unpleasant, just a little distracting. We didn't have much trouble finishing this Wurst - and wiped the little plate clean when we were done.

We wondered if we could handle trying one more stand. Against our better judgment and a strange feeling in our guts, we headed over to Maximilian's at Stuttgarter Platz, though by the time we got there I was feeling distinctly that the last possible thing I could do at that moment was eat another Currywurst. Luckily, the stand was closed. We headed home, recovered and ate salad for dinner.

The verdict? Max's clear favorite was Biers 195. I was torn between that one (for the sausage and the warmly heated stand) and Fritz & Co for the ketchup and crusty roll.

Next time: Steglitz, Wedding and beyond!

Very good
Biers 195
Friedrichstrasse 142
10117 Berlin

Witty's and Fritz & Co
Wittenbergplatz
10789 Berlin
Tel: (030) 211 9494

Avoid
Imbiss S-Bahnhof Warschauer Brücke
10243 Berlin