Der Tschechische Republik: Knödel mit Musik

There are multiple Czech restaurants in Berlin, but in my search I came across this video of Restaurant Böhmerland and was instantly sold. Nevermind that it's in Spandau, a good 45-minute U-bahn ride from us, there would be no other Czech meal for me. Once I heard the charming Czech accent of the jolly owner/waiter, Vojtech Novak, saw the pictures of the roast goose with Bohemian dumplings (only available at Christmastime - alas), heard the Czech folk music played by the same adorable owner....I was out the door and hungry for a hearty Czech meal. Actually, making and hand-decorating literally thousands of Christmas cookies kept me quite busy and I missed out on the goose. But yesterday, despite the cold and drizzle, I finally managed to drag mein Mann to Spandau. (It helped that the restaurant is located a very short walk from the Spandau Citadel, an old fort today housing (among other things) a museum with all kinds of old weapony things.) Actually, the Citadel is worth a trip (in summer, it might be too warm for Czech food, in which case it would be a great picnic spot.) In any case, we braved the weather, bought a 14€ painting of the Dolomites at a junk fair we stumbled upon, spent a few hours at the Citadel, and had an early dinner at Böhmerland.

The restaurant isn't all that much to look at. It's not very big and the simple decor is rather dated. I had worried that the adorableness of the owner/waiter might have just been for the video, but I am pleased to report that he seems to be just as adorable every day. He bounds around the room - pouring shots of Becherova, telling jokes, proclaiming the deliciousness of Czech cuisine, and finally playing his guitar and singing old Czech songs. The dining room is quite small, so he is practically sitting at your table when he sings. And the food: it's very good. I don't know that I would stray too far from the classics, but the roast pork with sauerkraut and Bohemian dumplings was excellent. Böhmerland is known for these dumplings and they are as promised, fluffy and perfect for soaking up the brown meat sauce. This was my first interaction with this variety of dumplings and they taste surprisingly exactly like the dough in a steamed Chinese bao, which is to say that they taste exactly like steamed white bread. At the end of the day, I prefer bread dumplings (Semmelknödel), but I appreciate that someone in Berlin is making them and doing a topnotch job at that. The portions at Böhmerland are more than plentiful. The roast pork was easily enough for two (we split that and a salad (not particularly remarkable, but quite decent if you overlook the iceberg lettuce). Böhmerland serves Konrad pilsner and dark beer from the Czech Republic (plus a few German beers and several Czech wines). Mein Mann is a real snob when it comes to how a beer is poured and he gave this place two thumbs up, both for the pouring and the beer itself. I can't imagine ever being able to eat dessert after even half an order of pork roast and dumplings, but I imagine that the fruit-filled dessert dumplings and palacinka (Czech crepes) are delicious, too.

Böhmerland
Hoher Steinweg 5

Zypern: Rauch und Spiegel

Much to my amazement, I found a Cypriot restaurant in Berlin. Well, in the interest of full transparency, Pratirio is a Greek restaurant that offers Cypriot Mezze as one of their specialties. Pratirio isn't exactly der Griescher um die Ecke (a reference to the cheap restaurants opened by Greek immigrants during the post-World War II immigration boom). Located at Savigny Platz, it's as you would expect, a little upscale. There are white table clothes and once you've ordered, a very polite Greek (Cypriot?) waiter brings bread and olive paste. There's an actual wine list (with many Greek wines (they also offer Mythos, "the most famous Hellenic beer").

Of course we went for the Cypriot mezze. The mezze has to be ordered by at least two people and the menu states that it must be ordered in advance. When I made our reservation, however, the woman I spoke with said that was only necessary when they were really busy (we visited on a Friday night at 7 pm and the place was pretty full). The mezze are served in three courses. We started with spreads and salads: tzatziki and taramasalata, beet salad and gigante beans in a tomatoey sauce. The spreads were good, as was the beet salad, but the beans could have come out of a can. Our second round of mezze were all fish: green mussels, shrimp, octopus, little fried fish, and baby squid. Everything was pretty simple and some things were good (the squid in particular), but others not so much (the mussels and octopus were on the tough side). Finally, a meat and cheese course: halloumi, cheese croquettes, tiny lamb chops, ground meat patties with something like avjar, a tomato-based pork stew, little sausages (served, oddly with mustard). The cheese croquettes and the lamb chops were really good. Halloumi is halloumi and I can't get behind serving Greek sausages with mustard, even in Germany. To finish the meal, we were given a spoonful of Greek yogurt with honey and a choice of ouzo or espresso.

Overall, a few of the mezze were very good, but none were amazing and several were sub-par. Not a single dish was something I'd never had before. I can understand that the chef doesn't want to try to deprive his German clientele of their tzatziki (they love it so), but s/he might have included a few more unusual dishes. My main complaint, however, doesn't have so much to do with the food, but with the air quality: Pratirio has a large smoking section. It's in a separate room, but this room opens into the main dining room, making for a very smoky dining experience. That factor alone would keep me from going back. (I think Ousies (Greek, not Cypriot, but....) has better food for a few Euros less anyway.)

Pratirio
Knesebeckstrasse 122

Kuba:

When the Cuban security guard at work told me I could get real Cuban food at Veradero, I was pretty excited. I immediately developed a serious craving for a Cuban sandwich. "Can you get Cuban sandwiches there?" I asked. "Nobody eats those in Cuba anymore," he shot back. Thus dejected, I set out for Veradero. The place is cute enough with years of customer grafiti decorating the walls.

The mojito, I have to say, was quite decent. The food, however, was sort of meh. Nothing was bad, but nothing was anywhere approaching remarkable. We shared a corn tamale, which came with a large piece of roast chicken and a bit of salad. The tamale, despite not being of the Tucson-style to which I am very, very partial, was pretty good. The chicken was quite moist, but also quite flabby and covered in a sweet barbecue-kind-of sauce. Definitely reheated in the microwave. We also shared an order of moros y cristianos (black beans and rice) and an order of yuca. The beans and rice were a smidge better than those at Tierra Colombiana, but I've definitely had better. I was surprised that the yuca was boiled (or steamed?) and not fried. Luckily, it wasn't boiled to death (think gluey mashed potatoes), but cooked until tender and served with a mojo of sorts. It was better than it looked (possibly because I've eaten too much gluey boiled yuca in my day), but nothing to write home about. Overall, everything tasted sort of muted. Cuban food isn't known for extreme flavors, but it shouldn't be bland and boring either. Luckily (authentic or not) there's a Cuban sandwich in my not too distant future.

Varadero
Vorbergstrasse 11

Kroatien: das Glashaus ist transparent

I picked Glashaus out of the many, many Croatian restaurants in Berlin mostly because it was a good halfway point between our apartment and that of the friends we were meeting for dinner. Croatian restaurants aren't trendy, and I couldn't find any reviews of them in any local press. There are lots of reviews of Croatian places on Qype, but they all sound about the same: big portions!, low price! Like the pseudo-Argentine steak houses, Croatian restaurants in Berlin are frequented by a certain type of German who likes to eat a serious lot of meat, but doesn't much care about the quality, and doesn't want to pay a lot. I am quite certain low-quality meat doesn't define all Croatian food. Even the Wikipedia entry on Croatian food (once again, my Croatian cookbook is on the other side of the Atlantic) describes a diverse cuisine full of regional specialties. I did try to find one that distinguished itself from the others -- an organic Croatian restaurant or one that was slightly upscale or trendy -- with no luck.

So, Glashaus it was and really, there isn't much to say about it. It was fine. All of our meals came with a salad, which was, in all fairness, a little better than it had to be. A trio of grated carrots, fresh sauerkraut, and lightly pickled cucumbers on a bed of iceberg lettuce. Nothing to get all that excited about, but I have had worse salads here and the dressing was a nice oil and vinaigrette, not at all sweet as it frequently is. The meat, however, was pretty bad across the board: the "small" trio plate came with a pork steak, a turkey steak, and a couple cevapcici (it seems every letter of the alphabet offers an opportunity to enjoy these sausage-shaped patties), rice and french fries. My spicy pork stew (similar to a goulash) was full of mushy frozen peas and carrots, not to mention that it was way over salted. Next to the massive pool of stew were two servings of rice: one plain that tasted of bouillon cubes and one that was vaguely tomato-based and full of the same mushy frozen vegetables. The best dish of the night, ordered by our friend who has spent time in the Balkans and is a professed fan of Croatian restaurants (in their Berlin form), was a giant beef patty stuffed with a feta-like cheese and served with French fries. Not a great dish - better meat would help, as would homemade fries, and maybe a few spices, but the concept wasn't bad. While Glashaus doesn't offer any Croatian beer, they do have several Croatian wines on the menu. I tried two and neither was particularly good as they were both one-note wines (one of them could easily have been manischewitz), but I always like it when an "ethnic" restaurant makes an effort to showcase the wines (or beverages) of the country. The only Croatian desserts were Palatschinken (crepes) with ice cream. Not very exciting, and after a disappointing meal, we passed on them. Berlin-style Croatian restaurants are not the sort of place I started this "project" to discover, but because I'm so very dedicated, I slogged through Croatia. Now I'm just glad it's over. Cuba here I come.......

Glashaus
Lindenstrasse 29

Kolumbien: Hin und wieder

It seemed for a while like Colombia might have been done in by The Curse. Friends of ours live next to Tierra Colombiana, so it had been on my radar for a long time, but the last time we were there I noticed a "closed until further notice"-type of sign in the window. Hmmmmmmm. La Chiva, another Kreuzberg Colombian spot closed "temporarily" due to some kind of "technical difficulty." They kept pushing their reopening date back (a real hoot when you show up the day after the originally posted reopening date) and are as of this writing neither open (as far as I can tell) nor answering their phone (or should I say, responding to calls because they only have a cell phone with a message saying they'll call you back). Just as I was about to give up on Colombia entirely, I called Tierra Colombiana one more time and they had magically reopened. Maybe The Curse can bring a restaurant back to life, too?

As it happens, I know a little something about Colombian food. My parents lived in Colombia before I was born. I don't remember them ever cooking anything Colombian at home, so they can't have missed the food all that much, but we did occasionally eat at a local Colombian hole-in-the-wall. Also, I spent a summer as an exchange student in western Venezuela and while they fact that yo soy marachucha means I'm required to tell you that arepas are really Venezuelan, in all honesty the two countries have very similar cuisines. In my experience, Colombian restaurants in the US have a fairly uniform menu and this is basically what you'll find at Tierra Colombiana. Between three of us, we shared the Picada Mixta, a Bandeja Paisa, and Ajiaco Bogotano. The Picada Mixta is a plate of little fried things (empanadas, yuca, tostones (fried unripe plantains), and chicharrón (fried pork belly) with a little hot salsa for dipping. What to say...it was ok. The empanadas were a little greasy and bland and the salsa didn't have much heat or flavor. It's not a dish I would ever order again, though in all fairness, little fried bits are never my favorite. I had high hopes for the Bandeja Paisa - this is the national dish and any self-respecting Colombian restaurant should have it down. Wikipedia has this to say about the dish: "the main characteristic ... is the oversized amount of food and the wide variety of ingredients." Tierra Colombiana's version just didn't live up to this at all. It's not that I need or want to stuff myself silly, but this is peasant fare. It should be hearty and flavorful and fill you up so you can plow your Andean fields The chicharrón and chorizo were both good, if a little on the small side, but the beans were just wan. Sad, sad beans with very little flavor. Beans for a Bandeja Paisa need be cooked with a nice ham hock or the like and these beans were most definitely porcine-free. Tierra Colombiana has a surprising number of vegetarian options for a Colombian restaurant and I guess that's great, but they need to make a separate pot of beans for those dishes (with caramelized onion or something for a little flavor) and not force flavorless vegetarian beans on customers ordering the non-vegetarian Bandeja Paisa (ie, not the one with the soy patty). I hate to go on and on (really I do - I wish I had loved the place), but the rice was also sad. Great rice is harder to make than one might think, but this seemed dry and leftover, which just isn't acceptable. I will say that the Ajiaco Bogotano (a lightly creamy soup with chicken and potatoes, flavored with capers and guascas) was very decent. Not life changing, but a nice bowl of soup. To finish our Colombian feast, we shared a portion of Brevas con Arequipe y Queso or candied fig with arequipe (very similar to dulce de leche) and fresh cheese. This is just about three sweet bites and it's a nice, typically Colombian way to end the meal. Another point of excitement: Tierra Colombia offers three Colombian beers and a variety of Colombian rum and aguardiente. Unfortunately, in Germany of all places, Colombian beer isn't enough to overcome Tierra Colombiana's shortcomings.

Tierra Colombiana
Mittenwalder Str. 27

China: Gut für Berlin

I wish I had more to say about Selig, but I left feeling sort of uninspired. Selig features the cuisine of northwestern China and specializes in hand-pulled noodles (there is a live pulling demonstration on Saturday nights). I read This review a while back and it stuck with me, so that I was determined to ignore the recently added disclaimer that it might not be so good after all. It's my fault I guess.

The noodles themselves were very good, with a nice spongy bite, but the two noodle dishes that we shared were just alright. I left thinking: I could have made those dishes. Wasn't the stir-fry I made last week better?

The so-called Peking duck with someone's special sauce wasn't awful, although it was definitely not Peking duck, but rather a deep-fried duck breast (is deep-frying really necessary?). While it was nice to have a milder dish to balance out the spicier beef and vegetables we had also ordered, after several bites, I was left craving some kind of flavor direction. The beef and vegetables had a nice punch to it and the vegetables retained some crunch. It was by far the better dish, if it was a little over-sauced.

The big question is, would I go back to Selig? My dining companion said it was the best Chinese food she's had in Berlin, and it definitely is better than the average place (keeping in mind that this city is full of Imbisse with mountains of nasty, greasy noodles to be for just a few Euros). I probably wouldn't go out of my way to eat there again, but if I were in the area and craving a big bowl of noodles, I very well might. I was intrigued by the noodles with lamb and I didn't get to try the dumplings. It is undoubtedly better than most of the Chinese food on offer in Berlin, but, alas, nothing to get too worked up about.

Selig
Kantstrasse 51

Bosnien: das siebente Mal hat Charme

The Islamic Cultural Center of the Bosnians in Berlin is a little tricky to figure out, but seeing as I have a bizarre amount of dedication to this project, I have conquered it. After six unsuccessful attempts to eat something "authentically" Bosnian, I finally made it. I stumbled across the ICCBB's website when I was looking for someplace definitively Bosnian to eat. The problem with messy history, is that it makes it difficult to tell exactly what is Bosnian. I imagine at least some of the Balkan places in Berlin are run by Bosnians, but they could also be Albanian or Macedonian or Croatian. Of course it works the other way, as well. The Albanian place I visited could be run by ethnic Bosnians and some of the people involved with the ICCBB could have (had) Albanian passports. The country of Bosnia and Herzegovina is home to three ethnic groups: the Bosniaks, the Serbs, and the Croats. I'm pretty sure neither the Serbs or the Croats were represented at the ICCBB, but I did visit a Croatian restaurant and I'll do my best to find something Serbian if I ever make it to S. I can tell you that based on a little internet research and a few restaurant meals, Albania, Bosnia, and Croatia have similar cuisines. Clearly, this is tricky business, but I think the fact that I went to the center seven times suggests that I did at least try to find something legit. Whatever legit means.

It took seven tries to get a meal at the ICCBB because it isn't really a restaurant, but a mosque and cultural center. I'd like to tell you more about it, but the website is all in Bosnian. When I first found the website, the only part I was able to decipher was the address. So I went there, figuring that they might be able to point me in the direction of a "genuine" Bosnian restaurant. Unfortunately, it was closed, but there was a man fixing the front step so I asked him: is there anywhere I can find Bosnian food in Berlin? He beamed: here! His German was't great, but he showed me inside where there is a little cafeteria and a small store selling a few Bosnian products. This was just before Ramadan (see how long I've been at this?!) and he said that the cook had gone back to Bosnia, but if I came back after Ramadan, I would be able to eat in the cafe. So, in September, I tried to go for a late lunch, but the center was again closed and this time nobody was fixing the front step. Eventually, I was able (with the aid of an internet Bosnian-English dictionary) to figure out the schedule (M-Th, 4pm-8pm; F-Sa, 11am-10pm; Su, 10am-10pm). Off I went for an early dinner only to discover that food is only served on Fridays and Saturdays. I tried again on the next available Saturday only to discover that that week, food was available on Friday and Sunday. This went on a few more times, until a few Sundays back when we happened to be wandering around Kreuzberg, a friend suggested that since we were nearby we might as well check and see if the ICCBB was open. I was sure that the place would be locked up, but lo and behold there were lights on and a few people inside. I'd been fooled by these clues before, though, but when we peaked around the corner, people were moving around in the cafe area. With trepidation, I inquired: is it possible to eat something today? Yes, the man behind the counter said, we have cevapi (aka cevapcici). So, cevapi it was. Unlike the Albanian and Croatian cevapcici, these came served sandwich style on a toasted flatbread (Turkish pide) with some sliced onions and a big dollop of what I thought was yogurt cheese, but may have been kaymak. The sandwich presentation and the kaymak is really what set these cevapi apart from the others I've had. The kaymak (or whatever it was) was great. This is one of those condiments that elevates most any dish. I can't say that the cevapi were better than the others, but they weren't worse either. At 4 Euros, you could get a better kebab-type sandwich elsewhere in the neighborhood, but you would miss out on thrill of actually managing to eat actual food at the ICCBB. I have the feeling that if you could read Bosnian (and thus the website) or if you were lucky, you might stumble upon a really good event there featuring other interesting and definitely homemade Bosnian dishes. As it is, dining at the ICCBB does require some patience and/or luck. If you decide to check it out, go with a plan B (avoid the awful Santa Maria Mexican Diner around the corner on Oranienstrasse at all costs).

Islamic Cultural Center of the Bosnians in Berlin
Adalbertstrasse 94 (hinterhaus)