This time last year I had just moved back to Dublin after a swashbuckling six years in the German capital. I could almost say “Ich bin ein Berliner,” but that could translate as “I am a doughnut.” So I didn’t.
Maybe when president John F Kennedy was in West Berlin on June 26th, 1963, and gave one of the best-known speeches of the cold war, his speech-writer was a double agent. Maybe he was working for the US Republican Party and wanted to puncture a doughnut-sized hole in JFK’s credibility.
My favourite Thai place was too small to get a seat inside. Thankfully, the city has a great alfresco dining culture – at least until October, when Berliners scurry into hiding for the next six months
I do miss Berlin doughnuts, though. Brammibal’s vegan doughnuts in Kreuzberg, the multicultural heart of the city, are so good you might question whether they really are dairy- and animal-free. Surely Berlin’s many vegans couldn’t have been duped for so long, though.
The choice of food in the city is mesmerising. In Neuköln, a rapidly gentrifying area south of Kreuzberg, you can get everything from standout Thai food to incredible Lebanese, via just about every other cuisine that might tickle your palate.
Mae Charoen Thai Imbiss is probably the nicest Thai food I’ve had outside of Thailand, and the Thai women who work there are hilarious and savagely consistent at plating the finest pad thai in Berlin. It’s almost impossible to find a seat inside, as it’s so small that you’d have trouble swinging a bratwurst, but, thankfully, Berlin has a great alfresco dining culture – at least until October, when a dark shadow rolls over the city and Berliners scurry into hiding for the next six months.
Berliners hang out in Kneipen, German-style bars where the plumes of cigarette smoke sting your nostrils when you arrive. The city is the last man standing for smoking bans in Germany. But then it has always been a black sheep compared with powerhouse industrial states such as Baden-Württemberg, home to Porsche and Mercedes-Benz. You can sense a lot of tension between the north and south of the country, as if, while Berliners wobble out of nightclubs such as Berghain after 48 hours to grab an early-morning currywurst, hard-working southerners prop up the economy.
Yet when it comes to food the black sheep lives high on the hog. I can’t help but grow nostalgic when I think about the sushi in Berlin. Our go-to place, Sasaya, was just a stroll from where my German wife, Anna, and I lived, on Stargarder Strasse, in Prenzlauer Berg. Sasaya is so good that I considered proposing to Anna there. Its grilled salmon nigiri takes you on a little trip to taste town.
After sushi it was always ice cream at Hokey Pokey, where the queues snake halfway down the road and almost around the corner. It’s a common mistake to opt for a waffle cone in the summer: your hand will be coated in melted ice cream in no time at all. This makes it easy to spot the greenhorns from Badfish, the Irish pub across the road.
It could well be verboten not to mention Berlin’s kebabs. After some German Pilsner at Ä bar, few things can beat a shawarma from Imren Grill on Karl-Marx-Strasse laced with unbearably hot sauce. As for burger joints, Bürgermeister probably has the nicest in the city. I often think of writing to beg them to open in Dublin.
Since returning to Ireland I’ve kept my culinary excursions local, eating mainly in Dalkey, in south Co Dublin, where De Ville’s has replaced Grill Royal, in Berlin, as my first choice for steak.
Food plays a big role in determining our feelings. I’ve grown convinced since launching my business here, and living close to the sea – as well as to an albeit smaller range of delicious food – with my wonderful wife and our two dogs, that life here is not the wurst.
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