District Môt, Saigon Street Food, Mitte

May 16, 2013 2 Comments

District MotSo District Môt.  On the former site of Chi Sing and from the people who brought us Si An Trà Café and Chén Chè Tea House.  The design is like being whacked in the face with a bag of obvious.  District Mot

It’s street food – so the whole place is meant to emulate that.  I’ve eaten street food in Vietnam and the experience is really not complete without the stench of Durian, a table of expired canines piled high with an oblivious boisterous puppy frolicking happily next to it (which makes me think the Universe is not a nice guy).  Oh and your eyelids should be stuck firmly open with sweat, so that to blink means to exert super human power.  For good measure, there should be a street urchin circling around you trying to sell you a) a bottle of tap water, its seal deceptively but meticulously glued back together, b) what looks like the Rough Guide but inside contains blank pages (actually fell for this), c) a tour.District Mot

You’re not going to get authentic and that’s fine.  If you can still get good.

But can you?

There were some dishes I liked at Chi Sing.  Enough that I took some friends from London the winter before last.  But the food was bland at best and plain old bad in other cases.  And the service was obnoxious.  That’s how it was with Chi Sing, I never knew which side of the coin I was going to get.

What to expect with District Mot?  More of the same I believe.

Mango saladI went for lunch, ordered three small dishes (€4 each).  The green mango salad was in fact ripe mango salad with what looked like Mickey Mouse ears, delicious all the same – although fish sauce and lime juice could probably make styrofoam taste good. Read more of this post

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The Thai Market, Outdoor, Wilmersdorf

May 8, 2013 3 Comments

Nose to tail eating Thai styleBerlin is a city of extremes. On the one hand, you’ve got bureaucrats, trying to out best each other at making you squirm.

Even postal workers are in on it, you should have seen the maniacal happiness in the eyes of the postal worker while I ruffled around in my wallet to find my driver’s license.

“You’re not getting that parcel without your passport. No point looking in there – I need your passport – that’s the only way.”IMG_4128

I don’t take the bait (any more). I calmly (kind of) step out of line and take my time, without the heckling. Find it and line up again. Nor do I take (visible) offense when the same postal worker peers at the license – then me – repeatedly as if I am buying a gun, rather than picking up my Amazon book.IMG_4124

So in this context, I am dumbfounded – no other word will do – to find a place like the Thai Market. Where women (I didn’t see a single man cooking) sit cross-legged and cook. Where everything is either €5 or  €2.50.  Where dishes are washed in pails of water.  Fried chicken languishes in the sun.  Hands don’t get washed for the 5 hour duration that the women are cooking.IMG_4123

Of course if the horse meat scandal in Europe and the rat meat scare in China have taught us anything, it’s that we are  not as in control as we would like to believe, no matter all those inspectors going around swabbing door handles.  (Did I ever mention that fending off said health and safety inspectors and bribing her with brownies and granola was one of my jobs in my other life?). Read more of this post

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Sayuri, Japanese Food, Charlottenburg-Wilmersdorf

May 1, 2013 2 Comments

SayuriI can always think of somewhere to go to in Mitte.  Or even Kreuzberg or Neukölln because someone or other has written about where to eat.

In fact, the other day I was thinking that were I not otherwise occupied with the twins and Layla, Berlin is ripe for opening something up.  Especially if you are an expat and you can tap into the mostly tame social community.  You don’t even have to spend money on a website since a Facebook page is more appealing to most – stating “we are a small enterprise that only spends money on stuff that matters”.Salmon But what about the other Berlin, one that is not aware about the “Rant” article the Exberliner wrote and the subsequent storm in a teacup (see comments in überlin) reaction it produced?

They eat just fine.  At places like Sayuri.  Where you can get grilled mackerel with skin so crispy it audibly shatters.  Where the rice is plump, resistant and shimmering with just enough vinegar dressing. Read more of this post

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Opening of Sra Bua by Tim Raue, Pan Asian Food, Mitte

April 14, 2013 4 Comments

Opening of Sra Bua BerlinI have no idea how I got on the Sra Bua opening party mailing list. But somehow I did.

It’s conceivable that somewhere on the invitation it said ‘black tie’ but I was too busy marvelling at the mysteries of PR lists.  I put on my pink corduroy trousers, (my favorite pair of orange jeans from Comptoir des Cotonniers being in the wash).  I paired them with a blue t-shirt and a blue and white striped sweater.
The red carpet at Tim Raue opening The extensive red carpet was my first clue that I might have gotten it wrong. The wall of big men, in black overcoats, earpieces and walkie talkies that closed in on me with a look on their face that said “The Brandenburg Gate is that way honey.” was the second one.  Some Sra Bua tastersInside, I find that they have kept the interior of former Uma intact, minus the central point of the horse which has been replaced by another sculpture.The red carpet from the insideAs I have arrived at 7:30, I initially have good access to the miniature signature dishes being passed around. Half an hour in though, it’s become a free for all. Tim Raue, himself is being jostled around by elegant guests with feral eyes shoving past him to get at the food.  If he’s here, who is in the kitchen, I wonder?  The kitchen at Sra BuaDaniel Lengsfeld, I find out.  (A former Tim Raue sous chef that went on to cook at a place called “Katz Orange“.)  Because Sra Bua (a Kempinski brand restaurant of which there are already 3 in existence  around the world) is merely interpreted by Tim Raue.  On most days you will find him on the pass at his 2 Michelin star Restaurant Tim Raue.Salmon with grapefruit Sra Bua Read more of this post

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Big Stuff Smoked BBQ, Arte Sucre (Macarons) & More, Markthalle Neun, Kreuzberg

April 7, 2013 4 Comments

Big Stuff Smoked BBQSylee suggested we meet at Markthalle Neun on Saturday.  ”I’m obsessed with the place!” she enthused.

It’s evolved considerably since my last visit.  The USP’s of the stands are distinct from one another and reel the Markthalle Neun consumer mercilessly hook, line and sinker.The pulled pork sandwich At Big Stuff Smoked BBQ, there is a line of hungry punters wrapped around the corrugated shack, as tinny Charleston music blares from speakers located somewhere behind the chicken wire that makes up a big part of the shop.  The Italian girl at the cashier is wearing a flat cap, her sweater sleeves are pushed to the elbows exposing a full arms worth of shirt sleeves – she looks like she should be hitching a ride on the back of a Ford Model T truck circa 1920.  I inch ever closer to the guy with the black latex gloves pulling pork apart for the sandwiches.

Sadly for me, Big Stuff has had a good day and they have sold out of everything except the pulled pork sandwich, so I miss out on the matt aluminum tray loaded with mounds of sauerkraut and squirts of bbq sauce (€12 for the regular, €16 for the large).  I get the pulled pork sandwich (€5.50) and a side of smoked potato (€1).  It’s good.  Not shredded to the point of resembling candy floss the way I experienced at Pitt Cue in London but delicious in a less complicated way.  My mother has her sandwich with a glass of ale from Heiden Peters. A beer from HeidenpetersI appreciate that the brains behind Markethalle Neun have been considerate enough to provide ample seating, with feisty coloured plastic chairs so I don’t have to scan the hall long before finding somewhere to sit.Mini macarons from Arte SucreLayla choses to get her sugar fix from Arte Sucre in the form of mini macarons (heaven preserve us from trending sweets: whoopie pies, cake pops, marshmallows – I mean you!). As I try to identify and retrieve the perennial coffee flavoured one, the French woman selling them begins to rattle off flavours: lemon, cassis, chocolate, mandarin mint…

Mandarin with mint? I think, intrigued as I immediately commandeer that flavour and take half a bite.  The other half I hand to Sylee.  ”These are good right?”.

Her eyes grow round. “Really good.” she agrees. I turn on my heel and return to Arte Sucre, this time to buy a pretty box of choux buns (6 for €7.80) to go with our excellent coffees from Kantine 9.

Choux pastry buns Read more of this post

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Steckerlfisch & Co, At markets around Berlin

March 31, 2013 7 Comments

Steckerlfisch & CoThe chorizo sandwich at Brorough Market is something my husband and I used to regularly queue for.  The paprika laced smoke that wafted over our way stoked our appetites.  Waiting for my grilled mackerel to come off the grill at Steckerlfisch easily replicates and possibly even surmounts that happy anticipation. Knitted column hats

Put it this way; it’s the thing I was most looking forward to eating upon my return to Berlin.Mise en place at Steckerlfisch

There is trout, char and squid but it’s the mackerel I’m here for.  It’s flavourful flesh stands up effortlessly to strong flavours and it takes to any number of combinations as long as they too are robust.  It can take the smoke raising up from the coals, until its silver fresh turns to copper riddled with black blisters.  The guys at Steckerlfisch are generous with the salt and there is a shower of paprika besides.  When the fish is ready, it is ‘plated’ on some thick white paper.  With a sploge of seaweed by its tail, some coarsely chopped red onion, another blob of dill mayonnaise underneath the gills, horseradish, lemon wedges and a white semmel roll sporting smoky grill marks and making even me (not a lover of the semmel) to devour them hungrily.  The composition is one I might find in Layla’s drawings and that adds to the appeal.  Steckerlfisch mackerel
Read more of this post

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Frying Pan Adventures, Food Tour, Dubai

March 10, 2013 5 Comments

Avra serving Egyptian falafelI hesitate before booking Arva’s North African Food Safari because it’s in the evening and I can’t justify disrupting 3 children’s night-time routine just so I can eat for curiosity’s sake. Luckily for me, my husband has no such qualms and books the tour for me. (That’s one of the reasons I picked him- he may not be a house husband and he’s probably only changed 30 diapers in the 4 years and three children we’ve had together but he has a knack of recognizing that critical point where I need to be given a nudge or more likely a shove).

Delivery from Al AmoorI meet the group in the bachelor section of Deira. An odd collection of restaurants with garish signs which are interspersed at regular intervals by bustling barber shops. I feel like the only woman on earth, circling the restaurant waiting for the group to appear.

Arva counting down the top 10 spices in Moroccan foodThen I see the blur of movement that are Arva’s arms as she excitedly explains something to the two women in sensible walking shoes flanking her, oblivious to their surroundings as she draws them in with countless anecdotes.

We settle down to our first tasting. Crunchy brik stuffed with tuna and an egg, its yolk oozing out brightly as we cut into it. While we eat, she hands out her iPad so we can watch a video of a woman making warka pastry.

IMG_1729The tour is 350 AED (€73) for 4 hours.  I was expecting an informal evening, where Arva would show us her places and we would chat.  Instead it’s an extremely well-organized tour.  We are given a branded Frying Pan Adventures bottle cooler, wet wipes and a pamphlet of illustrated vocabulary words that we encounter during our eating adventure.  It doesn’t stop there, Arva peppers all her explanations of food with relevant historical facts.

At the Egyptian restaurant Al Amoor over a plate of fava falafel and koshari one of the women in the tour turns around and asks me if I am ok because I am very quiet.  I get even quieter.  Normally you can’t shut me up, I interrupt frequently and rarely realize in time to apologise but around Arva there is so much to learn that I even – wait for it – take out a pen and paper to jot down some notes.

IMG_1719At Tajeen Alfassi she asks to smell the Ras El Hanout and the men that work there start smiling. “They will always smile when you say Ras El Hanout because it used to contain Spanish Fly.” There is a murmur of laughter from the group. I open up my notebook and jot down Spanish Fly?.  (It’s an aphrodisiac)

IMG_1738We try Omani Halwa which is a rose scented sweet not unlike the gunge that sticks to your teeth after eating Jelly Beans.  At first I think, “No.” but it’s surprisingly moreish.  ”They eat it for weddings and funerals.” Arva tells us.  I eat it for dessert the next day with yogurt and the contrast of sweet room temperature stickiness with the cold sour yogurt – heaven – two better bedfellows never existed. Read more of this post

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Romanisches Café – Waldorf Astoria, Cafe & Bistro, Charlottenburg

January 24, 2013 4 Comments


Romanisches CafeA coffee at the Romanisches Café is €6, which is extortionate even if you account for the silver tray on which it’s served and how many people must pocket the spoons. What you have to consider is their astronomical fixed costs.  That Bizazza encrusted display cabinet with 5 cm thick glass doesn’t come cheap.  Neither do the 5 hotel school trained waitresses, buzzing around the table enquiring about your satisfaction with the meal…5 minutes in, 10 minutes in: until eventually prompting you to ask for the check prematurely just to stop the onslaught of hospitality.
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What bothers me more is that the concepts are never original or concise. There is always a Caesar salad and a skinny woman chewing each leaf slowly. (This time there were actually two skinny women chewing slowly.  I wanted to tap them on the shoulder and tell them that there is so much mayonnaise in their salad that they would be better off with the bread basket.)  Sandwiches.  Doorstep  sandwiches because on their last scouting trip, management noticed that no one uses pre-sliced bread anymore.  There is a red vintage meat slicer, which staff are not allowed to use due to health and safety.  There are some French pastries (more beautiful to behold then to consume) and then a couple of unembellished loaf cakes looking out-of-place amongst all the glaze, Valrhona chocolate pearls and edible gold leaf.
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Did I ever mention that I worked in a hotel? A Marriott in London. Front desk. When I was 23. I wasn’t very good at verbally genuflecting at each check in. So more often than not, I got sent to the back to answer phones. The front desk manager was Lebanese, Mr. Salha. He used to ask for cappuccinos be brought up to the back office for him. While the rest of us were expected to drink instant. And I would rile him by demanding he order coffee for the entire back office as he was setting a bad example.  Until he would order me a cappuccino and then I would forget about equality because “I’ve got a ca ppu cc in O – and you all are drinking instant.”
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But here is why hotel cafes are good:

Because the newspapers are free and if you take home the FT and a German one, you’ve already amortized that coffee. Read more of this post

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Galeries Lafayette, Food Hall, Mitte

January 15, 2013 11 Comments


IMG_3846My husband gave me a Nike Fuel band as a gift.  It stayed in the box for about two weeks.

All I could think of when I saw it was: Martha Stewart. Martha Stewart dumbstruck that anyone would willingly don a shackle that monitors their movement, when she had to forcibly endure a home incarceration bracelet.  Martha Stewart whose business lost $50.7 million against revenues of $43.5 million in the 3rd quarter of 2012 and still felt upbeat enough to take the FT’s reporter along to check out ABC for inspiration on what to do with twigs. (I want whatever anxiety suppressing drugs she’s on!)

When it became obvious I wasn’t going to do it, my husband took it out of the box and loaded it onto my computer.Nike Fuel Band“See you can Twitter it and Facebook it.  You can even see what your friends are doing!”  I was going to explain to him that my friends are not 17-year-old girls and they would probably appreciate something that kept count of how many diapers they’ve changed or noses they’ve wiped and which counts down days since last pedicure, but I didn’t have the heart to deflate his considerable bubble.IMG_3843I’ve been wearing it regardless because around 10 o’clock in the morning, I press the white button and it says G*O*A*L and the letters do somersaults to a line of reggae colours at the top.  That is the why this bracelet will succeed, not because it motivates you to exercise but because it gives the wearer compliments.

Vanilla eclaireI wore it to Galeries Lafayette yesterday to buy Layla her weekly eclaire. She believes that their food hall makes the most sublime eclaires. I think they make damn good ones for Berlin, my favourite is coffee and hers is chocolate.  Yesterday the lady at the patisserie took a liking to her and gave her a chocolate macaron.

I’ve never written about the food hall here.  It’s small, but I love that by focusing on France, it makes sense.  You know what to expect.  Cheese, of course.  A good butchers, expensive but if you are clever, you can pick up some chipolatas or Merguez sausages and liven up a pot of lentils because sometimes (often) I just need a break from all the wursts.  The chiller cabinets stock things like thinly grated carrots with some raisins and a few parsley leaves masquerading as salad. Or expensive pots of yogurts or puddings.IMG_3842 Read more of this post

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Zeit für Brot, Bakery & Cafe, Mitte.

January 9, 2013 5 Comments

Zeit fur brotThey have cinnamon buns in Zeit für Brot.  Cinnamon buns make me think of Louie CK.  Louie CK always makes me laugh (and who doesn’t need a laugh with so much winter ahead of them?).  He is like a mild-mannered, unkempt accountant type except when he opens his mouth the most incredible amount of expletives and shocking ideas emerge.  To which he shrugs his shoulders and grins sheepishly, like he just unexpectedly passed a bit of wind and it’s never happened before…IMG_1204Cinnamon buns are the antithesis to all those dinkelbrots and bauernbrots I consume.  Like the hussy men take up with immediately after leaving their reliable, supportive but oh so boring mother of their children.  Heston Blumenthal illustrated this phenomenon perfectly when he left his wife Zanna for Suzanne (Please, please watch the video promotion to her book The Pleasure Is All Mine, you will keel over laughing if you are a woman or think the recipes look really good if you are my husband.).

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I see the cinnamon buns and I think: “This is what I need, yeast, sugar, pillowiness – badness.”  Then half way through I feel a bit bloated, a bit blah.  I’ve peaked quickly and now it’s still a grey winter afternoon except I’ve got half a cinnamon roll lodged in my gut. Read more of this post

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