GERMANOFILE

Kristiana Espresso Bar is hidden on Fehrbelliner Strasse away...

Thu, 06 Jan 2011 11:44:46 -0500

Kristiana Espresso Bar is hidden on Fehrbelliner Strasse away from the bustle of Schoenhauser Allee. You’d walk past it if you didn’t know it. It is a tiny boite of a place, with a distinctly Norweigan atmosphere: scandinavian antique furniture, pictures of Henrik Ibsen on the wall.

The owner, Kristian Moldskred, focuses on coffee and only coffee. There are no pastries, sandwiches, or other sorts of distraction.

The beans are very, very good — coming from Bonanza Coffee Heroes a little distance away on Oderberger Strasse.

Kristiana has a very different vibe from Bonanza, though. Much more laid back, it feels like you just walked into a friends’ living room. A friend who hasn’t left university yet, or a friend who has a penchant for mismatching furniture.

The vintage espresso machine that Kristian maintains makes a damn fine coffee. And that’s saying something. It’s my local, I’m a regular.

What could be more fun than cycling around Berlin drunk with up to 15 of your compadres?

Thu, 06 Jan 2011 08:07:48 -0500

What could be more fun than cycling around Berlin drunk with up to 15 of your compadres?:

The first time I saw this what I can only call ‘thing’, close to Checkpoint Charlie, it was loaded with Irish ‘lads’ singing “Ole, Ole, Ole … we’re all part of Jackie’s army”. They were pedaling more slowly than they were drinking. I turned to see where the noise was coming from, stared, shook my head, and moved away slowly.

So, typically, I’m not taken by the overly tagged city,...

Thu, 15 Jul 2010 21:19:00 -0400

So, typically, I’m not taken by the overly tagged city, but this little gem of graffiti won me over. I found it right outside my door on Kastanienallee. This one by L.E.T., Les Enfants Terribles, a Berlin-based street artist.

Ah, summer in Berlin. Translation reads: Berlin: Grey and rainy...

Mon, 24 May 2010 14:03:00 -0400

Ah, summer in Berlin. Translation reads: Berlin: Grey and rainy by morning. Maximum of 14 degrees Celsius, no chance for sun.

While we’re on the subject of KaDeWe, please enjoy this...

Tue, 18 May 2010 14:27:00 -0400

While we’re on the subject of KaDeWe, please enjoy this gratuitous phone photo of KaDeWe’s glorious logotype.

As mentioned before, the shopping centre of the West shines out...

Tue, 18 May 2010 14:20:21 -0400

As mentioned before, the shopping centre of the West shines out against the dull grey sky of Berlin.

KaDeWe: democracy through consumerism

Mon, 10 May 2010 15:44:00 -0400

When you ascend from the Untergrund Bahn station of Wittenbergplatz your view is obscured by an imposing grey building with the KaDeWe logotype brightly lit against the gloomy Berlin sky.

KaDeWe’s backlit logo stands serves as more than just a waypointer, it stands for KaDeWe’s whole philosophy.

KaDeWe stands for Kaufhaus Des Westens, the shopping center of the west. It is a veritable house of plenty and was designed to inspire shock and awe in the eyes and minds of, not only tourists to Germany, but any East-German Communist that may have strayed west of Checkpoint Charlie.

The glittering jewel to this crown of democracy is the 6th floor, a city block dedicated to edible delicacies from around the world. Escalators rise up into the hall of chocolate within which, currently, is a giant Liberty Bell comprised of chocolate. You can easily lose an hour or two shuffling through the aisles, smiling at some of the choices and sighing at others.

This isn’t Fairways folks: there’s no salad leaves on the floor or dangerous old ladies with their elbows of steel peering up from their trolleys. KaDeWe features only hand carts. You’re not stocking up here, you’re picking up your favorite Maldon’s sea salt from Essex, your smoked eel from Ireland, your bread and cakes from Lenôtré in Paris, your weißwurst (veal sausage), sußersenf (sweet mustard) and bretzels (pretzels) from Bavaria.

Scattered around the floor are small bars where you can order from a menu based on whatever area you happen to be in: fruit juices in the fruit section, a champagne bar or a beer bar in the off license section, lobsters, cheeses…you get the picture.

The best thing about this, dear fellow Germanofiles, is that KaDeWe is on the way home and there’s a direct elevator to the sixth floor. One can get very adept at navigating the confusing floor plan quite quickly.

CET, the worst form of timezone

Thu, 06 May 2010 14:25:57 -0400

Dear Germany,

One of the points of moving to Germany was to improve the “work-life ratio”. Sold by stories of Germans having months of vacation, wonderful long lunch breaks, and sunny, bright evenings in the park. I’m still waiting for it to kick in.

What I misunderestimated was just how wrong I’d be. If you work with Europe as well as the East and West coasts of the US, the Central European Time zone is a harsh master. The mornings can be light, with few calls and email chains sprouting, but once the East coast kicks in things start to warm up. Once the West coast kicks in, you can kiss your idea of a cold bier in the biergarten goodbye until at least 10pm.

Quality time with your daughter? I don’t think so.

I’m working similar hours than I was in New York however the considered opinion is that EST is the definitely the kinder time zone to work in.

Disappointedly,
Germanofile

It's Spargel time

Wed, 05 May 2010 09:47:10 -0400

Dear Germanofiles,

Spargel is a form of asparagus. Ordinarily green, this asparagus has been subject to a kind of horticultural abomination: instead of letting the plant grow German farmers heap soil on the growing plants, burying them. The result is a thicker, juicier, and whiter plant. White because the asparagus hasn’t been subject to sun and hasn’t developed the green chloroplasts that you associate with photosynthesis.

Spargel is highly seasonal. During the month of May you overindulge in the vegetable by every means possible until you’re sick of the sight of it. Every restaurant has a Spargelmenu while Spargel is in season. You buy Spargel all over the place, from supermarkets to side-of-the-road kiosks. Best is to eat it like corn, straight from the field: Spargel does not keep.

When you get it home, you have to use a Germanic instrument, the Spargel peeler, to remove the tough outer layers of skin and cook it the same way you’d cook green asparagus. Classically Spargel is served with boiled potatoes, air-cured Schinken or ham, and a sauce Hollandaise. Personally I prefer a small sliver of butter.

Germans get quite creative with the glut of the stuff and I’ve eaten it (mostly in the last two weeks) in a soup, a risotto, pasta, an aspic, as a salad, with a schnitzel, and fried into an omelette. It pairs nicely with a freezer-cold Gruner Veltliner. I’ve seen but not been daring enough to try the stuff in desserts.

The texture is more delicate and the flavour is more subtle, sometimes mildly nutty. This is definitely one of the more wonderful things that Germans have brought into the world and I suggest that you plan to visit in the next couple of weeks or in late April/early May next year so you can also indulge.

Yours, as ever,
Germanofile

P.S. For those 22% of us who at risk of the foetid aromas of everyday asparagus eating, Spargel is a wonderful invention — it reduces the odor emanating from your urine by a significant quantity, to levels where it is barely perceptible.

Cappuccino

Fri, 23 Apr 2010 08:00:56 -0400

This isn’t about Germany, per se, but Europe. Every time I order a cappuccino, I get a beautiful coffee, not a barrage of further questions. I don’t need to specify venti, grande, short or any other adjective — a cappuccino to go comes as Himself intended: in a 6 oz cup. Makes me happy at least.

I find this milch package to be quite the novelty. This brand of...

Sun, 11 Apr 2010 17:05:45 -0400

I find this milch package to be quite the novelty. This brand of milk comes from the region around Berlin — within 50 miles or so. The bladder is a recyclable plastic that contains calcium carbonate. The ‘handle’ is an air chamber stopped by a one-way valve. You rip the corner off, grasp the air handle and pour. The amount of material needed is tiny and is quite ecologically sound. Pouring takes some time to get right, though, and I’ve ended up with milk on the counter/table/food/guest a few times.

How a Germanofile reads The New Yorker

Fri, 09 Apr 2010 08:41:31 -0400

One of the the things you learn to do while living abroad, is to quickly skip past the first section of The New Yorker. It isn’t that I don’t want to know what’s going on around town, it’s purely a coping mechanism so I don’t get too homesick.

German advertising is, well, a little … different from...

Thu, 18 Mar 2010 15:50:00 -0400

German advertising is, well, a little … different from that we might see at Broadway and Lafayette. Nothing like a leather clad dominatrix to appeal to your inner sub/Rotlicht addiction.

When the snow finally melted, it left a medley of New...

Tue, 16 Mar 2010 17:29:00 -0400

When the snow finally melted, it left a medley of New Year’s Eve firecrackers, anti-slip sand and Berlin’s finest sidewalk feature: frozen dog shit. This isn’t a winter-only phenomenon as I discovered at one of my favorite coffee shops, Coffein, recently where this card sat behind the counter. The translation reads (please overlook my poor translation skills): “Still Berlin even without dog shit in front of the shop”

The Crush

Thu, 25 Feb 2010 16:01:00 -0500

Dear Germany,

Let me laugh out loud for a few minutes. Hahahah. There, done! If that was the best you could do for a rush hour, you make me (happily) sick. Honestly, I’ve seen more people on the G train in the morning (the G train for G-d’s sake!) that I do every morning on the U2. I’ve mentioned this before but I feel like you’re hiding something from me — oh yes, the people.

Today was a little better, though, in other regards. Now that the snow is abating, the bicycle lanes are back to a fraction of what they’re like on regular days (or so I hear). I was almost mown over by a determined cyclist while coming back from lunch. They’re fast and fearless of new expats. And they’re in the right. Mostly. More on the subject of cyclists later … let’s get back to the rush hour. Here, in Berlin, rush hours tend to last about 30 minutes and consist of people standing for about three stops (between Potsdamer Platz and Alexanderplatz). The rest of us sit. Yes, some people stand but mostly that’s because they want to. There’s no good reason for them to stand. I sometimes stand, just to feel like I’m being hemmed into someone’s armpit on the C train’s morning rush to Manhattan (ahhh, the C train).

What I do find refreshing, more than the thought of Brooklyn armpits, is the civilized concept that we’re all adults and don’t have to show a ticket to get onto the train. It is lovely to be able to breeze onto the station and just jump into a car, knowing that you’ve got a valid ticket and no-one expect anyone to be schwarzfahren (black riding, or fare-evading). Highly civilized, indeed, and something to be exported.

Yours, as ever,
Germanofile

Reasons to move to Germany #4

Sun, 14 Feb 2010 20:23:00 -0500

Women. One of the strongest reasons any man or likewise-minded woman will have to move to Germany is the strong, tall, blond(ish) beauty of the German female. Indeed, when walking or commuting through Berlin without glasses, one has to be forgiven for thinking that it might be and then having it sadly revealed that it is not but a poorly executed version of of the beauty of one’s own German wife.

Reasons to move to Germany # 3

Sat, 13 Feb 2010 15:00:00 -0500

Dear Potential Germanophile,

Germany will help you lose weight! You are pretty much guaranteed to lose weight in your first few weeks in Germany. US portions are the way of the past, there’s a huge emphasis on healthy eating and high fructose corn syrup, or any corn syrup for that matter, seems reticent to be seen on ingredient labels. Reasons #3 is dependent on your ability to exercise caution regarding Reason #2.

Yours truly,
Germanofile

Reasons to move to Germany #2

Fri, 12 Feb 2010 20:00:00 -0500

Dear future Germanophile,

The price of beer. Germany has one of the finer selections of beer known to any nation. To be sure some smaller nations can pull heavy punches but they are in no way in the same league. from Pilseners to Wheat beers, darker beers to ales, the selection can be truly awe inspiring. Take a recent trip to a local Getraenkemarkt (off license) that boasted a selection of over 1,000 beers. What was even more inspiring was the cost of these brews. In my local (read expensive) corner store, a fine dark wheat beer retails at 69c. Moreover those with an inclination towards household economy will be glad to know that these bottles often come with a pfand (deposit) for which you can claim another 10c or so, lowering the effective tocal cost of ownership of your beer.

Yours,
Germanofile

Reasons to move to Germany #1

Tue, 09 Feb 2010 20:00:00 -0500

Dear wannabe Germanophile,

Two words: double glazing. Windows are by far the most attractive thing that you learn about when you move to Germany. I’m not kidding. In Brooklyn, our windows acted like built-in refrigerators. The cold air would push its way into the room to create small mini-vortexes of frost bite. We lined our windows will sellotape, cotton wool, thermal insulating spray, fluffy animals, and books. None of it worked — gas bills were well out of line, we remained states of permanent thermal stasis.

Contrast that with Germany, the land of double glazing. Here you can switch off the heating after a while and the heating stays in your apartment, subverting the frost bite. Double glazing is standard in all apartments, you don’t have to pay extra, and is a marvel of technology. Who would have thought another pane of glass would be enough to tempt migration.

And folks, if you think double glazing is the dogs rowlocks, I have two more words: triple glazing.

Yours,
Germanofile

The Quiet

Sat, 06 Feb 2010 22:00:00 -0500

Dear Germany,

What is with the quietude? Back in Brooklyn there’s always a hum. Sometimes even more than a hum. Take for example the 5+ individual garbage trucks that rumbled past our apartment every night (one for each side of the street’s public trash cans—that’s four, we lived on the corner—and one for the commercial trash from the restaurant opposite; this does not count garbage trucks for our garbage). Add to this the passing of the G train (in German, you’d know this as der Hipstertransport) every so often which trembled the house’s core.

This is Saturday night. It’s well into the evening and the place sounds like a morgue on vacation. Actually, I’m kind of digging this. Not the morgue part but the fact that I can sleep again. It’s eerily quiet, almost like the forest in Ireland where I grew up, but even though I can sleep no-one likes eerie.

Your, Germanofile