Secret Supper Club

Berlin is a city of subcultures: art house squats, anarchist bars, locationless dance nights, and secret supper clubs. For my first foray into underground dining in Berlin, I had a guide. My new Australian food buddy Rohan (now with new Sydney food blog) sent me the menu the week of:

* ~ *
An Apéritif
Pickled winter vegetables, parmaschinken, and little lettuces
Ricotta gnudi with pumpkin caponata
Lamb and root vegetable stew with farro
Apple cobbler with ginger ice cream
* ~ *

"Wait! How do I get there? There's no address!"
"No, there isn't."
"How do people find out about it then?"
Rohan cocked his head and gave me a sly smile.
"You just do!"

We met beforehand at Rohan's favourite gourmet food shop in Prenzlauerberg to choose wine for the evening. There would be wine there as well, but being lushes on a budget, we decided to come prepared. We chose three bottles for the four of us, the highlight being a German wine from a small winery that has totally taken my heart: Holger Koch, a delicate Pinot Noir (Spätburgunder in German) from 2007. This was not like any Pinot Noir I have ever had. Retaining all the complexity of this difficult grape, it was so light as to almost resemble a Rosé in colour and weight. For a wine industry whose strength is floral and fruity Rieslings, this red was a beautiful showcase of the power a light wine can have in impacting the palate. I took home an extra bottle for Christmas on a hunch (and was duly rewarded with an approving nod from Dad over Turkey dinner).

Rohan led us to an apartment building in Friedrichshain and we followed the buzzer directions to the third floor. We were greeted by a friendly American, who was the host and server for the night. He explained to us after the dinner that he was a DJ originally from NY who had come to Berlin for the opportunity to play 80's disco to an appreciative crowd(!). Gotta love Europe for that. His partner was the chef, also a New Yorker. Having found a day job in a local bakery, he missed the pleasure of cooking full meals for guests and the idea for the supper club was born.

The living room turned dining hall was cosy and comforting, as though we had been invited to a special event in a friend's home, perhaps an engagement announcement or the celebration of a birth. The room was set up with 4 tables and about 18 guests. Our party of 4 was seated with two other expats - our table consisted of 2 Australians, 1 Swede, a Belgian/German, a Russian/American, and a Chinese/Canadian. Naturally, the conversation turned to the question, "Where do you come from?" and how complex that question is becoming in a world where the old idea of national identity shows itself to be a transitioning chameleon, a creature uncertain of where to belong but sure of the list of places it wants to go. Introductions are no longer the simple fare they were designed to be. At least not in Berlin, where you are more likely to meet a Turk, Korean or South African than a native Berliner.

The sparkling wine aperitif served with a twist of lemon started us off lightly and delicately. Our friend, Ceci, ordered the most delicious German beer for a more substantial aperitif - Riedenburger historisches Emmer Bier. I have spent the last two months searching every specialty shop, liquor store and late night corner store for this taste of heaven and come up empty handed. (HELP!) The beer hails from a small organic and artisanal brewery in the South of Germany. It belongs to a lost tradition of beer brewing originating before barley made all other grains in the brewing industry obsolete. Brewed with emmer (farro wheat), einkorn (a traditional German wheat) and spelt, it is rich without being heavy, complex without being overwhelming. Nourishing and round, and still light enough to not be a meal on its own. You can find an excellent review of this beer here. Riedenburger is only an hour from Nuremberg... perhaps a roadtrip for lebkuchen and Emmer bier is in my future.



The starter was a refreshing take on the seasonal and local, pairing parmaschinken (a German take on prosciutto) with German folk fare of pickled winter vegetables and brussel sprouts, giving some of the most underrated members of the vegetable kingdom a class and elegance truly deserving of them.



The entree was in my opinion, the star of the meal. The pairing of creamy ricotta dumplings with spiced and roasted pumpkin winter comfort was pure genius. I made a mental note for future mid-winter dinner parties.

The main was a satisfying but unremarkable lamb stew that allowed the conversation to take the main focus, turning animatedly to Jordana's 10 day silent meditation retreat, Buddhism, Daoism, and well, Heidegger. (what else am I good for in the middle of thesis writing? ;)



The apple cobbler was elegantly cupped and had a delectable puff pastry crust. The fresh ginger ice cream gave a beautiful lift. More European than American in its weight in the mouth, this dessert was a hit for me.

At 25 Euro a seat, this alternative to The Shy Chef was a treat.


Palisaden Supper Club, Friedrichshain, Berlin.

Pet Eggs

One of the most annoying things about DC is the proximity between things. One cool shop is at least 2 blocks from the next one, leaving me with lazy legs, blistered feet and a slight aversion to exploring. Also, my size of my DC fridge trumps the size of my NY fridge by at least half and is now taller than my person, which means a very arduous trek home with heavy HEAVY bags from the grocery store or farmers market, at least half a mile a way. Even up in the boring upper east side I had my pick of grocery stores (though either crappy or expensive). 4 of them within a quarter mile radius and dozens of delis sprinkled in between the supermarkets so planning last minute fritatta or pancakes was no big deal if I ran out of milk. or potatoes.

<rant>
I'm also aghast at farmers market prices here. Come on, get real. Michelle Obama is for these farmers markets, but when you have to pay $2.50 for a pound of apples or $4.50 for a dozen eggs, her local produce activism has to be a little more than just requesting a farm stand to be planted outside the White House and making vegetables in her backyard.
</rant>

I fretted for a couple of days about expensive eggs from a (i suppose) trusted local source and weighing them against less expensive eggs from a suspicious mass distributed source and ultimately decided to buy the cage-freest eggs I could at whole foods. Until I casually struck up a conversation with a coworker who interestingly enough bought a quarter of a pig from a farmer and picked it up from the butcher when it was ready (a quarter of a pig is a large amount of pork). She also gets free range eggs from a friend for free. Free range eggs? From pet chickens? I began to salivate and asked her how much it would cost to buy them and have her bring them in to work for me.

$2 a dozen. Approximately 17¢ an egg, compared to 38¢ an egg.

Pet eggs. They were so pretty. Some were brown, some were grey, some were white and some were blue like my apartment walls.




In the morning when everything is still quiet except the sound of pouring coffee, I make soft boiled eggs mixed with soy sauce and strips of toast without fear of salmonella. The yolks fall out and ooze a bright orangey yellow and are hard to clean once they stick to the bowls – the hallmark of happy chickens that lay eggs packed full of vitamins and omega-3s.


courtyard view from my kitchen

After staying up to watch the tennis finals last night, I woke up when it was snowing and made some soft boiled eggs and blueberry pancakes as fat fluffy robins hopped around on the frozen pond. Is this what civilized living is?

Now to find some pet milk.

Handicraft Hash House

My friend Ted has always given me food for thought over the years, often over a whiskey or two into the wee hours, so when Ted and Roisin invited us to London (Ontario) a few weeks before I took off to Europe this past August (I know, I am attacking my post backlog!) for a barbecue and campout to end the summer, I was thrilled to finally be tasting his "thought for food" (that's "thoughtful food" said with a mouthful of Ted's homemade burgers!).

You see, I met Ted in Halifax, Nova Scotia way back when he was a fine arts student at NSCAD (now NSCAD university). What started as a couple kitchen jobs to pay the rent took over as a full-on artistic passion and career. I left Halifax in 2006 having had only a small taste of his famed gelato flavour creations at the popular but now closed, Dio Mio Gelato house on Spring Garden Road. I remember being in town briefly to see the first attempt at home brewing stacked in Ted's living room (my former apartment), sealed and fermenting. Sadly, I left before I got a chance to taste any.

This August, in Ted and Roisin's new home in London, we finally got the full treatment. We were fed homemade burgers with the full fixin's and a fantastic spread of goodies. The highlight was the most impressive homebrew I have ever had in my life - a delicious Cerveza (Corona and Sol are examples of Cerveza), and a couple darker brews, including a hearty nut brown that I loved. B and I stuffed ourselves around the campfire and got to know Ted and Roisin's London crowd.

(Pesky camera strap wants a bite of my huevos rancheros too!)

The gastronomic peak for me was breakfast the morning after. Ted had started a pot of Mexican beans from the day before straight from dried to let the spices seep slowly in as the beans hydrated, slow cooking through the party festivities into the morning. When we woke up, we were treated to an authentic huevos rancheros breakfast cooked over the still burning coals of the campfire. The beans had a fantastic aroma and heat to them and Ted made my eggs deliciously runny, just like I like them. This was served with homemade guacamole and campfire-heated tortilla bread. As if this wasn't pampering enough, we were also treated to fresh watermelon and lime margheritas to accompany breakfast and give it an extra kick.

Ted and Roisin have created a beautiful home for themselves in London, with a vegetable garden out back, Roisin's textile studio for Bespoke Uprising and Repeat overflowing into the halls, and a kitchen humming with Ted's latest catering and food delivery venture, the Handicraft Hash House.

Ted's signature is the incredible thought and detail he puts into his craft, from the organic and locally sourced ingredients, to the second edit of the food manifesto he sent me recently for another look, to the design of his new food labels (you can give your input by joining the facebook group: The Shoofly Appreciation Consortium).

You can order Ted's homemade meat pies, baked goods, preserved soups, sauces and pickled foods here and even set up a weekly meal delivery service within the London area. (w/ occasional trips to Toronto and Essex County). HHH Pies span everything from Cornish pasties to Jamaican patties to crawfish. I am intrigued by the Kentucky Burgoo, a stewed concoction of small game (rabbit) and mixed vegetables, a recipe originating in hobo camps of the 19th Century American West. And from the preserves and spreads, I can't wait to get a lick of his Calvados (apple brandy butter).

On the habitué delivery menu this week...
bread - anadama bread
soup - scotch broth
pies - Jamaican patty, bierock and tortiere
potted meal - polenta povera

Oh, Ted. Tell me you were serious about couriering that meat pie to Berlin...