Berlin Reified: Food, design and life in Berlin

A walk along the water (Travemünde)

Our day in Lübeck was a great success, but my eyes really shine when remembering the afternoon in Travemünde. This small beach town bordering the Baltic Sea is where Thomas Mann fondly remembers summering, and we were lucky, on a mid-autumn afternoon, to have exquisite skies and clear walking. Alighting from the bus we rushed to the water, then headed left along the beach with no particular plan, pausing to admire the several trees that had capsized from cliff into sea.

Once we began to flag we stopped an approaching couple to ask how much further the next town was, and, reassured, continued for another forty-five minutes or so until the beachside buildings of Niendorf appeared on the horizon.

Safely ensconced in a beachside cafe, we sat by the window and watched a small child rushing at the swans at the shoreline, who whisked themselves away in that indignant manner of swans. Our Spätzle arrived and we inhaled it, then decided against cake in favour of Quarkbrötchen from the small bakery along the harbour. We munched the raisin-studded buns while taking the cliff route back to Travemünde, and lingered on the promenade for a half-hour observing children fly kites before making our way to the bus, to Lübeck, and thence to Berlin.

Quince jelly (syrup?) / Pay it forward

You'll have seen that I recommended saving the juices from your quince compote. Boiled down, this turns into a syrup that verges on jelly with no added ingredients, thanks to the high pectin content of the fruit itself. With my small batch of compote and my greedy licking of the spoon I ended up with a scant inch of sunny preserves, but you might get more. Just heat so the liquid simmers but doesn't bubble too furiously, stirring fairly often and watching closely to avoid scorching.

And on the topic of handmade homemade treats: How thrilled I was to be the second (not the third) to respond to Deborah's offer to pay it forward! Here's the pledge: “I will send a handmade gift to the first 3 people who leave a comment on my blog requesting to join this PIF exchange. I don’t know what that gift will be yet and you may not receive it tomorrow or next week, but you will receive it within 365 days, that is my promise! The only thing you have to do in return is pay it forward by making the same promise on your blog." Any takers?

One year/Autumn

But now one senses the season's tip into winter. I remember this day last year as more luminous - sitting on the sofa, searching out my first photos, trying to wrangle the Typepad software into doing what I wanted it to do. People seem to commemorate their anniversaries, so here's mine; and on this occasion I can note that writing Berlin Reified makes me pay close attention to the world and brings to that  observing the joy of knowing I have a single radiant someone to share that world with (for I imagine you as one particular reader, reading this as I write). And reader, what do you make of it all, I wonder? And what do you like, and what do you like less?

Quince tart (Quince compote)

With friends coming over for dinner last Saturday, I was racking my brains for something to do with my quince; after all, hard experience had taught me  people less obsessed with food than I will react with limited enthusiasm when handed a bowl of poached fruit. The solution of quince compote as topping for the Verlet tart pleased all, I think, with the honeyed almond sweetness of the filling setting off the spicy compote nicely.

To make, simply peel, core and dice three quince, then cook with 1/2 a cup (or 100 grams) of sugar plus 1/4 cup of water over low heat until the fruit is softened but not mushy. (I added a few cardamon pods, two star anise and half a vanilla bean to this mix, and was pleased I had.) Remove to a waiting bowl using a slotted spoon and let cool. Prepare the crust and filling as usual, and strain the quince again (saving the juices) before topping your tart with the compote. It's lovely at room temperature.

Fall keeps going

This autumn just keeps going.

Quince paste, Quittenbrot, Membrillo

Alchemy indeed: Who would believe the golden quince would transform itself into such coral gems when cooked with a bit of sugar? I was skeptical as I pureed the fruit into pulp and gingerly stirred the bubbling, burping mass with a very long-necked wooden spoon. After an overnight cool, though, the deep orange round emerged smooth and sweet from its pan.

David, with his steady hand, was in charge of carving the slab into squares, which he did quite charmingly, I think, dusting them in sugar and arraying them in jolly lines on their sheet of brown paper. I haven't been able to stop nibbling away, intrigued by their texture, though the sweetness verges on too sweet and I think I ought to have experimented with one or two unconventional spices in the mix before the grand cooking down began.

I'll leave that for next time. For now, the little irregular cubes make a perfect informal gift, swaddled in said brown paper, and tied up with a bow. To try it yourself, do what I did, and cobble together a recipe from Nicky's, Melissa's and Michelle's. A few comments: I took note of the need for acidity and solved it by splashing in a tablespoon or so of apple cider vinegar; I'm sure lemon juice would work just as well. Also, I boiled the quince whole as per Melissa's recipe, but found them impossible to peel, so didn't, and didn't notice any roughness at all. And finally, my quince seemed especially moist and needed a full day of drying out (in the switched-off oven) before the texture was ripe for slicing. Happy quincing!

This is Thomas Mann speaking

The highlight of Lübeck's Buddenbrookhaus was the line of seats upholstered in nubby mustard, interleaved with listening stations where you could hear excerpts of interviews with the Manns. (But the family tree ran a close second, and how odd, really, to imagine a Mann as a gardener in California.)

Buddenbrookhaus (Heinrich-und-Thomas-Mann-Zentrum)
Mengstrasse 4, 23552 Lübeck (map)

Lübeck!

Another Hanseatic city ticked off our list!

Swoon in Berlin

I really must get around to renaming this category.

A branch in the fall (Kreuzberg)

I was very fond of this bough.

Erntefest Domäne Dahlem (Squash & Thanksgiving)

Squash galore! Loyal readers will remember my elation on discovering the Christmas market at Domäne Dahlem. These scenes from the Erntefest make clear, I think, that this harvest festival was just as delightful.

Inked into my calendar is Domäne Dahlem's Textilhandwerksmarkt on November 10th & 11th, which will bring together over forty fabric artists from all of Germany: spinners and weavers will share space with carpet-makers, felters, and dyers, and indigo and batik cloths will be on display. The textiles fair concides with St Martin's Day; accordingly, goose is on the menu and a parade with lanterns is planned for the late afternoon. Another round of photos to follow...

Domäne Dahlem, Königin-Luise-Straße 49 (map)

Calling all quince lovers!

Five years ago, quince was just a lovely word, and I couldn't have picked out a knobbly specimen in a line-up. But then How to Eat lived for a long time on my bedside table, and more recently I ogled Melissa's gems and began daydreaming about quince champagne cocktails. And so on a recent morning, my heart beat faster on spotting a colleague's free crate of organic quince advertised on the company intranet, and I leapt to accept. After reading about quince bought for $1 or $1.99 per fruit, I felt like a king cramming two kilograms into my backpack before heading home.

The house is fragrant (pungent, David would say) with the mysterious pleasing pineapple/nutmeg scent. Over the last couple of nights I've made a robust batch of quince paste, and plan to do a quince variation on the Verlet tart this weekend.

But this will make just a dent in my supply, and while quinces are hardy, I think it's only sensible to pass on the largesse and offer some fruit to a good home. So, dear readers, please email me at the link to the left or leave a comment, and we'll work out the details of when and where. I'm happy to advise quince novices, and will even throw in a piece of my membrillo for good measure...

Kreuzberg Astronaut

Everyone needs a guardian astronaut.

Housewarming (bread & salt)

I was charmed, if baffled, when Murdo and Beate pressed a salt cellar and a loaf of bread into my hands on arriving at our housewarming party last spring. I later learned this pair is the traditional gift for a new home, with all manner of reasons given for their significance.

Never mind the reasons, though. Is there anything more pleasing than this little blue jar from Frau Rose's filled with coarse Italian sea salt from Goldhahn und Sampson, just waiting to be paired with a fresh raisin bun and given to a friend newly housed?

Strolling through Mauerpark (II)

This Sunday stroll feels very distant.

Fresh pasta at pastaroom

Oh, fresh pasta is a bit old hat, but I couldn't resist the stairs leading down to Pastaroom's little den on Goltzstraße. I had just begun to survey their edited selection of pastas (eg ravioli stuffed with Steinpilze) when the shopman followed me down and began to explain how everything was made fresh daily, how they had to expand because customers wanted to eat the hot dishes on the spot, not cart them away, how it's been busier and busier now that they've been featured in Zitty, in the newspapers, on TV, even. So I suppose I'm coming late to that little parade (though mysteriously I can't hardly find anything on them on the internet, not even their own website) but still, these curiously chewy, curiously dense wedges of chili pasta were just the thing on Thursday night -- and it seems time for me to move beyond Prenzlauer Berg again...

Pastaroom, Goltzstraße 52 (map)
Tel. (030) 47981066
I didn't bother to copy down the opening hours, figuring I'd just check on their website, but as that's not working, I suppose you'd do well to phone; I imagine they'd be open for lunch every day except Sunday, perhaps.

Berlin Service

On my last visit to the Prater I found the most pleasing abandoned vending machine...

Albrecht's revisited

There are some Sundays when nothing else will do, and then we make the walk down Stargarderstraße and Schliemannstraße and Rykestraße until we arrive at Albrechts Pâtisserie's cheery red awning. Through the plate-glass windows I try to identify the tarts on offer: a meringue dome elicits a special beat of excitement.

In an email, a French reader of Berlin Reified sniffed at the jewel-like display of the tarte au citron, the millefeuille and the chocolate globes, preferring, I suppose, the luxurious plentitude of Paris pastry shops; still, the neatness keeps things übersichtlich. And note that alongside the classic French sweets one finds a generous selection of Stephanie Albrecht's own creations, such as rhubarb or blackcurrants crowned with crisp meringue.

Indecisive types might opt, as I often do for the gemischte Petits fours: three tiny tarts of your choosing, to be consumed in four careful bites. The tangy rich lemon curd made the Zitronen-Tarte my favourite (and the sprinkling of pistachio nuts lent the tart a pleasing bite).

Now that the weather's turned colder, the glossy white sidewalk tables are gone and one needs to cram into the small shop itself. Be warned that 1) there's no toilet and 2) there's a bit of a Ralph Lauren photo shoot vibe at the weekend (so many children in neat coats of navy or forest green, so many noble fathers with trim gray flannel trousers and manes of dark blonde hair).

But they can also pack your treats into cunning paper boxes to tote away; or, for those in that corner of Berlin, the Albrecht's in Winterfeldstraße has neither of these issues and the same lavish selection. For me, the cramming is a small price to pay for a beloved Sunday ritual.

Albrechts Pâtisserie
in Prenzlauer Berg: Rykestraße 39 (map)
in Schöneberg: Winterfeldtstraße 45 (map)
in Charlottenburg: Fasanenstraße 29 (map)
Open daily 10 am - 6 pm (from 11 am in Charlottenburg)

Piano Salon Christophori (II)

Everyone familiar with the place will be unsurprised to hear that the informal salon evenings at Piano Salon Christophori go on surprising and delighting: In mid-September Kotaro Fukuma and Misa Suzuki presented a lighthearted two-piano concert, with Misa insouciantly pausing in her playing to turn pages in Mr Fukuma's score; later in the month, somehandssomehands did more in less, playing three to an instrument.

Friday's program features a single player - Madalina Pasol - alongside Tanja Simic, a mezzo straight out of New York. The concerts have, in my mind, taken on an added poignancy and potential urgency with the news that the building in which they're housed has been sold. No concrete threat yet that the Piano Salon Christophori will be evicted, but it makes me prize these evenings all the more. More details here.

Mangold, Red chard, or Fresh from the market

I still smile in embarrassment when I recall asking a German waiter what Mangold was. Es ist halt Mangold he replied, flummoxed, and I decided the vegetable strudel sounded better anyway and ordered that instead. Eventually I spotted Mangold at the BioCompany and concluded it was akin to bok choy, and only recently did I bother to look up the word on Leo, where I learned it translates to chard.

Never mind: All this nattering is just to say that if you find a few of these bunches in the gorgeous ruby red variant, with leaves mostly intact and the stems radiant, then snap them up: the earthy beet-like sweetness is not to be beat.

With each bunch, chop off the knotted root end to free the stalks, then draw your knife roughly between where the stalks end and the leaves begin. Lay the leaves aside, then chop the stalks into 1/2 inch chunks and transfer to a bowl. Wash thoroughly. Cut the leaves into 1/2 inch strips, and wash as well. Mince two fat garlic cloves.

In a wide frying pan, heat a tablespoon of olive oil on medium heat 'til fragrant. Add the chopped stalks and cook for five minutes or so, stirring once. Salt sparingly. Add the minced garlic, and continue cooking with an occasional stir until the stalks are still crisp but the fibrousness has been softened by the heat (about 15 minutes total). Add the leaves and stir thoroughly from the bottom, then cook for 3-5 minutes, until the leaves are wilted and soft. Add another dash of salt, anoint with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice, then transfer to bowls or plates. Top, if desired, with a dusting of parmesan.

Hard boiled eggs & observations

I've learned a lot about myself through keeping this blog – for instance, that I fall for white rooms with dark wood furniture and a few vases of lilies – and, most significantly, perhaps, that, more than turning out elaborate meals, what I love is food. Here, I suppose, I mean paying attention: to the yielding moistness of the yolk fresh off the 6-minute mark, pulled from the bubbling pan and placed in a waiting bowl of cool water, to the beauty of the shells, to the elementary pleasure of yolk and white on buttered toast with a quick grind of salt. But watch, perhaps I'll turn my mind to the devilishly complicated caramel tart come winter...

Autumn along the train tracks

Berlin International Opera: Figaro at the Löwenpalais

And what a difference to wend my way through Grunewald villas to Figaro at the Löwenpalais. As a longtime denizen of the Staatsoper's third-balcony seats, it was thrilling to experience opera - and the singers' able acting - in such an intimate space. And what acting too (an incadescent, maniac Cherubino, a dapper and dashing Figaro, a comic Count thwarted at every turn), and all roles sung splendidly, really, leaving David and I humming with vigour as we wheeled my bicycle along to Halensee.

Two performances remain on Saturday and Sunday, and for those who don't make those, Berlin International Opera has got Macbeth slated for March 2008.

Wittgenstein in Berlin (Tag der Deutschen Einheit)

A long walk with Gideon to explore Kreuzberg in greater detail. Once I spotted Wittgenstein flanked by his duck-rabbits, I was sold.