Image courtesy of Five Elephant

I walk through the door of Five Elephant exactly one year after it opened – but there appears to be no time for birthday celebrations.

Out front, customers mill about or sit absorbed in laptop land. Just beyond them, a roasting machine is working its magic, surrounded by a crew of human assistants overseen by co-owner Kris. In the background, Kris’ partner Sophie prepares a generous batch of cakes for the weekend rush.

Despite these bustling scenes of activity in what is essentially quite a small space, the first impression is overwhelmingly olfactory, a hit of coffee delivered directly to the nose like a gentle punch. The roaster, Kris explains, was imported from Idaho in his native US, where by a stroke of luck he was trained one-on-one by the CEO of the famous supplier, Dietrich.

This incredibly complicated process required painstaking attention to detail: each bean has its own idiosyncrasies and there is no set formula to follow. Perfection lies somewhere between art and science, graft and graphs. But the end result is coffee that’s by far the best in the neighbourhood and has quickly become the talk of the town.

And while the machine plays no small part in Five Elephant’s success (Berlin has scandalously few in-house roasters) the true stars of the story, as always, are the people and their passions.

Sophie, the co-founder, is almost single handedly responsible for the baked goods on offer in this simple but dedicated cafe.

Having tasted the Philadelphia cheesecake, I can relate to the depth of emotion it sparks; Sophie has received requests for hugs from strangers and even marriage proposals on the basis of her prodigious patisserie talents.

Speaking of nuptials, perhaps the most unique aspect of the Five Elephant enterprise is its sincere commitment to remarrying product and consumer. As a cartophile I was captivated by the giant wall maps depicting Africa, South and Central America, and Indonesia, thinking them a wonderfully fitting design decision.

But the maps are more than that: they’re a nod to ethics as well as aesthetics, part of a conscious effort to put the journey of this precious commodity into perspective. The owners strive to know exactly where each and every batch of coffee comes from even though this is a frustrating impossibility for a business of their size.

As connoisseurs may know, prices of coffee spiked in December 2010, a cause of both stock market speculation and a warming climate forcing growers further uphill, exacerbating the situation for farmers and all those committed to transparency and fair trade across the supply chain.

The good news is that Kris and Sophie have recently contracted their first micro-lot of direct trade coffee from a sustainable farming project in Brazil. They plan to release details about the farmers and openly account for every penny.

Image courtesy of Five Elephant

There is even talk, thanks to technological advances in grower countries, of introducing customers and farmers via Skype during after-hours events.

While you can’t taste abstract concepts like humanity or humility, these ingredients are as essential as all the others in the popularity and importance of this place.

True, some complain about its location in a lesser-known pocket of east Kreuzberg; but this was actually a canny move, and not just because I happen to live next door, since the area – increasingly desirable but still affordable – is on the cusp of a new phase and Five Elephant represents a new kind of gentrification that promotes sustainability and provides an opportunity for the community to consume quality products ethically.

Like the roasting of the beans, the formula of Five Elephant’s popularity is a fine balance of people and product, passion and action, where the key to continued success is trial and error with a healthy dose of perseverance.  Fortunately for us quality caffeine addicts, Kris and Sophie are modest masters of this abstract algebra.

Five Elephant
Reichenberger Strasse 101
10999 Berlin
T 030 960 815 27
Open: Mon-Fri 8:30 – 19, Sat-Sun 10 – 19

Photo by Tam Eastley

It’s no secret that finding a job in Berlin isn’t easy. With the highest unemployment rate in all Germany (12.7% compared to a 6.5% national average), Germans and ex-pats alike need to be increasingly creative when it comes to finding a job, or find themselves forced to leave and look elsewhere. While this can be a struggle and a stress, it also accounts for the abundance of small, creative businesses here in the city.

Two years ago, Diana Durdic (a former engineer for BMW) and Tasha Arana (an accessories designer from New York) discovered themselves in such a conundrum. They moved to the city and decided that if they couldn’t find anything in six months, they’d start their own business, perhaps one that merged their two shared passions, fashion and, erm, baked goods.

They didn’t find a job and thus Sing Blackbird was born: a vintage clothing store/vegan café on Sanderstrasse in trendy Kreuzkölln. Two years on, the venture has not only exceeded their own expectations, it’s even caught the eye of the international world from Italian Vogue to Dutch Elle.

The modern-day concept store, nestled between a huddle of Imbiss, Spätkauf and the Maybachufer Turkish Market, fits perfectly with this increasingly trendy Berlin kiez. But settling in Kreuzkölln was purely accidental, says Durdic. “We just wanted something with two doors on the street in order to highlight the store, and also the cafe.”

When they first came upon the location, they were not at all impressed. “I thought [the space] was really trashy,” Durdic says. “But when we started pulling away the drop down ceilings we found these amazing crown mouldings.” Uh huh – they had stumbled upon yet another diamond in the rough in Berlin.

Some well-chosen wallpaper, a splash of silver paint on the ceiling and a few antique birdcages later, Sing Blackbird was opened in September 2010 – and has been booming ever since. The store merges the best of two very different worlds – fashion and food – in a healthy, cost-efficient way. The clothing, mostly from the 70s, 80s and 90s is hand picked by Durdic and Arana and priced reasonably.

“A lot of vintage stores are overpriced,” Durdic tells me, “and a lot of the second hand stores have questionable values.” The two entrepreneurs wanted to fill a niche that they didn’t see represented in Berlin, that of mid-range, well priced, good quality vintage clothes.

Their commitment to quality is obvious: the pieces are hung on the racks delicately and colour co-ordinated. There’s no overcrowding or need to squeeze through a claustrophobic space, overflowing with dusty, smelly, torn fabric corpses. Instead, the selection is well thought-out, well treated, and well-informed.

Photo by Tam Eastley

In the winter they carry sweaters, coats and boots, and in the summer, Berlin favourites like floral dresses. They know their market, and they love it. “Berlin style isn’t as crazy as it used to be when people would just wear anything,” says Durdic. “Now it’s more about a casual street style and basic colours.”

When you’re done browsing, cross over to the other side of the store and pull up a seat – maybe by the window, where you can sip a cappuccino and watch the Kreuzkölln foot traffic. The large array of tasty vegan treats on offer include a justly famed breakfast burrito, vegan pancakes, a tempeh lunch bowl and homemade vegan cake.

Durdic and Arana also tend to involve their friends and the wider community to contribute, interact, and (natürlich) party. The various magazines displayed around the store are mostly creative projects by friends, as are the beautiful and delicate vintage necklaces – and customers are encouraged to bring in their unwanted clothes to swap.

On cold, rainy, and miserable winter Thursdays, Sing Blackbird also hosts movie nights [check the Facebook page for listings]. Previous films have included quirky vintage classics like The Warriors, Badlands, Repo Man and Blue Velvet. In the summer, the team sets up a classic Berlin Flohmarkt on the sidewalk outside and, because no hip, beer selling, vegan cafe is complete without a little bit of music, they’ve also starting bringing in bands, mostly of the soft acoustic variety so as not to annoy the neighbours.

When you consider the quirkiness and success of a venture like Sing Blackbird, you have to concede that perhaps Berlin’s high unemployment crisis isn’t so bad, since it seems, at some level, to nourish Berlin with alternative treasures like this one.

Sing Blackbird
Sanderstraße 11
12047 Berlin
T 030 54845051
Open: 13-19 Daily

About The Author

Tam Eastley is from Calgary, Alberta, Canada. After finishing a Bachelor’s Degree in Cultural Anthropology at the University of Calgary, she decided to see the world, and embarked upon a nine month trip around Europe and South-East Asia. She moved to Berlin over three years ago and completed a Master’s Degree at the Freie Universität Berlin in English Literature and Cultural Studies. She recently cured a bout of wanderlust with a trip on the Trans-Siberian Railway. She is currently a freelance travel blogger for NPR Berlin and a contributor to Slow Travel Berlin. In addition to her journalistic endeavors, she is working on a book of short stories about traveling the world by train. Her interests include culture, literature, travel and roller derby.

Photo by Tobias C. Meier

With her business partner Kiduk Reus, Yumi Choi started Bonanza Coffee Heroes in 2007. Hip yet serious, and competitively priced, the coffee outlet at the Mauerpark end of Prenzlauer Berg was quickly embraced by young, trendy, discriminating Berliners.

“This is the new Berlin”, a patron sweepingly remarks to friends sampling the coffee for the first time. Whatever that means, Bonanza is doing its bit representing this corner of Berlin, and is doing it very well indeed.

Bonanza Coffee Roasters (formerly Bonanza Coffee Heroes, as it still states on the sign outside) specialises in roasting but has a small, unpretentious café outlet on the side. Unlike many such hangouts in the city, it’s doubtful its adherents come here for the ambiance, since it has the appearance of an afterthought.

But its habitués genuinely don’t seem to mind the constant din of the two antique and sturdy Probat roasters, one from 1918 and another from 1950, both hard at work throughout the day; nor the sacks, crates, and plastic tubs of beans that are piled high and take up most of the floor space.

Because here it’s not the clientele or the small selection of cake and cookies from Barcomi’s that’s the draw, but the coffee. Whether in a bag or in a cup, one does not need to be a connoisseur to recognise that it’s a cut above the competition in a city literally teeming with coffee purveyors.

While Berlin has always had a coffee culture, the quality has often left much to be desired. Native Berlinerin Yumi muses: “Before, we drank garbage. Berlin was enclosed. Germans did not have a culture of indulgence. The city was not known for gourmet things. It changed through the people who moved to Berlin, as the city became more international.”

She credits a visit to London for her coffee epiphany, specifically a sample from Monmouth, known for sourcing directly from farms and cooperatives. “After that experience I couldn’t drink just any coffee,” she recalls. “It was as if I was blind and now could see. I could not go back. It was a journey of awareness of the different aspects of this everyday product.”

Photo by Tobias C. Meier

The result has been nothing short of a shaking-up of Berlin’s coffee scene. Bonanza roasts for, and supplies to Mitte’s Oliv Café, Prenzlauer Berg’s No Fire No Glory, and Katie’s Blue Cat down in Kreuzberg, to name a few.

“Bonanza is really small in the quantity of coffee that we move. But in terms of inspiration, we started this way of making coffee in Berlin,” asserts Yumi. “We have inspired others and also inspired innovation in the coffee business in the city.”

Interestingly, and perhaps not surprisingly, the people behind Bonanza come from creative backgrounds. Yumi studied art, while Kiduk is a designer and a filmmaker. Outside of Bonanza, the baristas tend to be musicians, dancers, and artists.

Who walks through Bonanza’s doors? A typical customer, reckons Yumi, is “a professional, a creative, a world citizen…cosmopolitan, often multilingual, aware of food, music, and fashion; friendly and open.”

The attraction, always, remains the beans, the smell of which lures customers in from the other side of the street. Bonanza’s progressive, gentle roasting methods, lasting about five times longer than the usual, delve into the intricacies of the coffee’s flavor and draws them out. It uses boutique coffee beans that account for less than 1% of the world’s produce, for which, Yumi maintains, they pay a significantly higher premium than fair trade prices.

While the search for coffee that fits the desired flavor profile brings samples from all over the world, the mainstays are from Brazil, Ethiopia, El Salvador, and Indonesia. As of December 2011, customers can now also find single-origin filter coffees on the menu, featuring a whole range of flavors and served in special tasting cups.

While Yumi hints at expansion, she adds that the Bonanza team tends to do things in an unhurried, deliberate way. “We grow slow, but that is due to authentic self-expression. We learn a lot in the process. I would be happy if, as a company, Bonanza stays innovative and remains avant-garde, but also serves more people.”

Bonanza Coffee Roasters
Oderberger Strasse 35
10435 Berlin
Mon – Fri 8.30 – 19.00
Sat – Sun 10.00 – 19.00

About The Author

Vanessa Remoquillo is a writer and editor in Berlin.

Kadó

Kreuzberg's Kadó

Licorice: it’s an acquired taste. A relative of aniseed and fennel, it’s touted for its health benefits and benevolence towards the digestive tract. Its distinct flavor and somewhat odd appearance make it a peculiar confection, but one with a seductive and dark allure. Located on Grafestrasse is Kadó – a whole store dedicated entirely to the unusual candy. It boasts over 400 kinds of licorice with imported rarities from Scandinavia, southern Italy, and Australia.

Licorice aficionados will delight at Kadó’s extensive selection ranging in flavors from salty-savory pieces to sweet and speckled with pastel colored shapes and designs. The shop’s interior, lined with over-sized glass jars and old school apothecary tins-cum-candy-jars, is reminiscent of the shops in Harry Potter’s Diagon Alley, further lending to its quirky charm.

Graefestrasse 20, Kreuzberg 10967, T 030 69 04 16 38, www.kado.de, Tue-Fri 9:30 – 18:30, Sat 9:30 – 15:30, Sun-Mon, closed

Erich Hamann Schokoladenfabrik

Those with a discerning chocolate palate should head to Hamann Schokoladenfabrik, Berlin’s oldest chocolate factory. This family-run shop has remained unchanged in flavor and in its distinct Bauhaus design since its inception in 1928 — but it is Master Chocolatier Erich Hamann’s unique approach to the dark arts that distinguishes it amongst the other chocolate shops in the city. These black beauties are bitter in taste and composed entirely of natural ingredients.

There are no watered-down milk chocolate variations, per Hamann’s insistence that milk chocolate only detracts from chocolate’s original form and taste, rather than adding to it. Customers, however, can decide for themselves if Hamann’s verdict is indeed correct as they choose from a range of schokoladens from the classic dark bars to the more exotic blends filled with praline, ginger, nuts, and marzipan.

Brandenburgische Straße 17, 10707 Berlin, T 030 873 20 85 86, www.hamann-schokolade.de, Mon-Fri, 9:00-18:00, Sat, 9:00-13:00

La Cave De Bacchus

Cave de Bacchus is the oldest French wine shop in Berlin, and its history is as reputable as its thoughtful selection of wines. Owner, Gérard Degouy, originally from Champagne, relocated to West Berlin in 1971 to improve his German language skills. At the request of his compatriots, all of them nostalgic for their homeland’s terroir, Gérard began to import French wine. The hobby soon became a passion and later a thriving business and today – still located in Charlottenburg – the store remains unchanged in its loyal approach to French viticulture and gastronomy, treating customers to a mini sojourn “en France” with its impressive selection of Grand Crus and Chateaux, and not to mention, Gerard’s favorite, Champagne Here, terroir is king, and the selection of other imported goods, such as gamey pâtés, rillettes, creamy fromage, Dijon moutarde, and freshly baked baguettes, all add to the shop’s culinary pedigree.

Westfälische Str 33, 10709 Berlin-Halensee, T 030 892 20 23, www.cave-bacchus.de, Mon – Fri 10 – 19,  Sat 10-14, Sun, closed

Goldhahn and Sampson

Goldhahn & Sampson in Prenzlauer Berg

Cookbooks wield uncanny expectations of magically morphing into a domestic goddess/culinary guru overnight, even though we all know they often only sit on the bookshelf collecting dust rather than tomato stains. Goldhahn and  Sampson is the perfect place to help you realise your culinary dreams and kick off 2012 with a whiff of garlic and home-baked bread.

Located in Prenzlauer Berg, the shop functions as a cafe, shop, and cooking school allowing customers to peruse the latest in culinary goods, gadgets, and cookbooks – of which they have a fine selection – whilst sipping espresso and nibbling at some house-made cake. G&S also offers nightly cooking classes that occur on a weekly and monthly rolling basis: from basic poultry, to modern Italian cooking, to cooking meat, and more, there is something to satisfy the inner gastronome, or indeed inspire a loved one’s cooking aspirations.

Dunckerstraße 9, 10437 Berlin, T 030 41198364, www.goldhahnundsampson.de, Mon-Fri, 8- 20, Sat, 10-20, Sun closed

Bier-Spezialitäten-Laden

Don’t be fooled by Bier Spezialitäten’s cracked and faded façade. Wedged between Berlin’s east-west artery right off the Karl Marx Allee U-Bahn, this store is a beer lover’s dream-come-true. The shop carries over 550 German-style beers from the ubiquitous Pilsner to the heavy Hefeweizen or Weissbier along with some imported libations, such as American craft and microbrews, and Belgium and British ales. The main draw here, however, is the Deutsch bier. Although the collection can prove daunting, the owner is well-versed in his knowledge of German beer and is always willing to assist you in your search of your choice poison – and even crack it open for you to enjoy on your way home.

Karl Marx Allee 56, 10243 Berlin, T 030 249 21 46, Mon-Fri, 10 – 19:30, Sat, 10 – 14:30, Sun, closed

Wald Königsberg Marzipan

Often associated with the other  major Christian holiday of Easter, marzipan’s buttery almond flavor also functions as a darling yuletide confection. A favorite indulgence of the famous Russian composer, Tchaikovsky – think of the Marzipan-themed dance in the Nutcracker’s second act – its Eastern-inspired roots made their way to Austria and later Germany only to become an emblematic German sweet. Wald Königsberg Marzipan’s candy-striped walls imbue this third-generation-owned shop with the charms of a classic 1950’s candy store. Owners Paul Wald and his wife, Master Confectioner, Irmgurd Radant moved to Berlin in 1947, and set up the shop in its present-day Charlottenburg-based locale. Radant’s impressive craftsmanship shines through the glass vitrines that line the store’s countertop, tempting customers with her wide range of almond-inspired concoctions.

Maitre Phillipe (photo by Freddy)

Pestalozzistraße 54a, 10627 Berlin, T 030 32 38 254, www.wald-koenigsberger-marzipan.de, Mon-Fri, 10-18:30; Sat, 10-15:30; Sun, closed

Maître Philippe

Maître Philippe is a cheese and wine shop that’s run on passion and love. Owner Philippe and his daughter Anais relocated to West Berlin from southern France and soon began to import their local gastronomy to the German capital. The art of wine and cheese pairing is given new verve here, with Philippe’s extensive knowledge of French fromage and fine wines guaranteeing customers a crash course in taste and culture.

His philosophy is simple, and rests on his loyal support to small producers. The careful selection of farmhouse cheeses and specialty, small-production varietals is the real charm of Maitre Philippe’s. On a humorous note, ripe, aromatic cheese might not be your first choice if you’re looking for an inconspicuous stocking stuffer, but it makes a wonderful, welcome gift nonetheless. And a bottle of carefully chosen wine is always a safe bet.

Emser Straße 42, 10719 Berlin, T 030 88683610, www.maitrephilippe.de, Sun-Fri, 10-19, Sat, 10 – 14:00 Uhr

Salumeria di Pino

Runner up to Berlin’s extensive Turkish population, the Italian influence also looms large in the German capital as this hot blooded Italian store underlines. Large legs of prosciutto and salami dangle from the ceiling, greeting customers with the aroma of those cured meats most commonly associated with this boot-shaped country. The store is family owned and operated and its selection of imported goods extends far beyond the aforementioned cured meats. There are cheeses, house-made pastas, sauces, olives, wines, and more, giving customers the opportunity to sample and select from a range of Italian delights.

Windscheidstr. 20, 10627 Berlin, T 030  324 33 18, www.salumeria-pino.de, Mon-Wed, 10:30-20, Thu-Sat, 10:30-open end

Five Elephant

Coffee culture has slowly worked its way to the German capital, and now the selection of specialty roasts offered in this city is more varied than ever. Five Elephant Coffee Roasters is the new kid on the block. Located on Reichenberger Straße, the American-run cafe serves a mean devil’s cup, and caters to the German penchant for afternoon cake. The cafe’s real Pièce de résistance, however, is its house-roasted beans – which are conveniently available for purchase and well-suited for the chillier winter months.

Reichenberger Straße 101, 10999 Berlin, T 030 9608 1527, www.fiveelephant.com, Mon – Fri, 8:30 – 19:00, Sat – Sun, 10:00 – 18:00

Pain au Lait from Soluna (photo by Sylee Gore of Berlin Reified)

Soluna Brot und Öl

It is no exaggeration to say that bread is the staff of life in Germany, and although the recent organic health-food renaissance may make whole grain bread seem like a recent phenomenon, it clearly is not. This wholesome, dense bread dates back to the time of the Gauls and Visigoths and has withstood repeated modern efforts to refine it. The tradition continues today at bakeries like Soluna Brot und Öl.

Owner Peter Klann is a baker of the old world. His Kreuzberg-based bakery’s wood-oven stone near the entrance hints at the quality of loaves that rise here, luring customers in with the yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread. The shop offers a range of traditional German style brots as well as some foreign-inspired starches, such as Ligurian Olive Bread or the traditional French baguette. There are also house-made spreads (known as pistes), cheeses, cured meats, leberwurst, and other amiable bread companions available for purchase.

Gneisenaustr. 58, 10961 Berlin, T 030 61671191, www.brotundoel.de, Mon-Fri, 10:00 – 19:00, Sat 7:30 – 16:00, Sun 10:00 – 16:00

About The Author

Molly Hannon is a U.S.-born freelance writer based in Berlin. She holds a Master’s in gastronomy and communications from the University of Gastronomic Sciences in Italy, where this fall she will lead a master’s-level seminar about 20th-century food literature and its relationship to contemporary food writing. A contributor at NPR.org and the Dailybeast/Newsweek and an editor at the Berlin city guide Unlike, Hannon writes about food’s cultural influences, narratives, and literary legacies—how they shape civilization and bring us together. She maintains a blog, LesGensFaims, which translates as “Hungry People.”

Photo by s.laqua

The temperature has gone sub-zero and anything you plan on consuming had better taste of cinnamon or come mit Schuss. With Berlin playing host to over sixty Christmas markets annually, there’s no shortage of places for you to get your fix of Lebkuchen and gifts in the frosty open air…

Best Of The Big Hitters

Gendarmenmarkt

The sparkliest of them all, lit with all the double-Dom grandeur you’d expect from a setting in between the Deutschen and Franzozichen Doms. Visitors get a serious visual return on their one-euro investment, as well as access to the culinary delights from covered outdoor versions of upmarket restaurants plus luxurious gifts and handicrafts. Be warned, though – the gifts cost a lot more than the entrance fee. The entertainment is also top-notch, showcasing everything from fire artists to classical and Gospel groups. There’s even real donkeys. If that’s not Christmassy enough for you, you’d best start calling yourself Ebenezer.

Gendarmenmarkt Berlin, November 21 to December 31, 2011, Open Daily 11 am to 10 pm, Admission 1€ for the stage programme

Opernpalais

The stretch between the Staatsoper and Opernpalais on Unter den Linden goes full-tilt jingle bells and twinkly lights with over 200 stands of crafts and treats. This means that you can stuff your face with roast chestnuts, buy all your gifts at the same time, then lose either your lunch, your gifts or both as you take a turn on the carousel.

Opernpalais, Unter den Linden 5, Mondays to Thursdays 12.00 p.m. – 9.30 p.m, Fridays to Saturdays 11.00 a.m. – 10.30 p.m, Sundays 11.00 a.m. – 9.30 p.m.

Schloss Charlottenburg

If it’s romance and grandeur you fancy, then head to the already picturesque setting of Charlottenburg’s castle (Schloss) for one of the thirty-five days that it decks the halls for each year. As well as permanent and temporary exhibitions inside the castle itself, entertainment is served in the form of a Ferris wheel and live music from accordionists, carolling choirs and even the traditional Berlin barrel-organ. The journey westwards won’t disappoint in terms of gifts, either- with over 150 stalls nestled inside heated tents and elegant glass pagodas. There is also a separate children’s market with its own Ferris wheel, swing carousel – even a petting zoo. Even better, the entire park surrounding the castle gets its own special illuminations, allowing for an idyllic stroll through the scenery to burn off all those festive treats.

Schloss Charlottenburg, Mondays to Thursdays 2pm til 10pm, Friday to Sundays from 12pm til 10pm. Closed 24 Dec. Open Dec 25&16 from 12pm-8pm.

Spandau Christmas Market

The journey to the end of the U7 line is worth it to experience the biggest Weinachtsmarkt in Berlin, held in Spandau Old Town. Continuous Christmas cheer is provided by 250 stalls during the week and 400 at weekends, and for guests who like their entertainment seriously live and kicking, there’s a weekly Friday Christmas rock concert plus a manger with real animals on Reformationsplatz. There’s even a medieval plague procession every Wednesday if you’re feeling educational, or to keep things cheery, a St. Nikolai Christmas garden and a traditional craft market.

Spandau Christmas Market, 25th November – 23rd December, daily from 11am to 6pm.

Boutique cheer

Weinachtsrodeo at Postfuhramt 


Christmas shopping with a little extra yee-ha of luxury comes to the elegantly run-down Postfuhramt building in Mitte this year. The building, which previously hosted the CO gallery, will be transformed with booths from Berlin’s hottest designers, artists and boutiques. There’s a gift-wrap service and a relaxation area to ensure your shopping experience is as chilled as the outside temperatures, a mix of classical and electronic music to soundtrack your browsing and a selection of the obligatory sugary and alcoholic goodness to keep you fed, boozed-up and happy. A treat for anyone who doesn’t fancy wearing gloves as they shop.

4^th, 11^th, 18^th December plus the 2^nd, 3^rd and 4^th Advent Sundays: 12-18pm, Oranienburgerstrasse.

Photo by Physis3141

Lucia Christmas market at the Kulturbrauerei

For those who find the traditional Weinachtsmarkts just a little too Teutonic, a visit to the Scandanavian-themed market in Prenzlauer Berg’s Kulturbrauerei should hit the spot. Named after the Nordic goddess of light, the market includes a Finnish sauna for anyone who wants a chance to strip off plus more child-friendly fun in the form of a kid-size Ferris wheel, all held in the scenic central courtyard.

Kulturbrauerei, Schönhausesr Allee 36, Prenzlauer Berg, Underground Eberswalder Str., Mon-Fri 3-10pm, Sat-Sun 1-1opm, through December 22, free

Ecological Christmas Market at Kollwitzplatz

Trust the Berliners to come up with a slightly healthier alternative to the traditional gut-busting Christmas market, and it’s no surprise that this is held in that most bio-loving quarter of leafy Kollwitzplatz. While no one will pretend that a Bratwurst is going to help you detox, all the offerings are made from organic ingredients, including fair trade toys and even sustainable forestry Christmas trees on the third Sunday in Advent.

Kollwitzplatz, Prenzlauer Berg. Sundays only from 27 November 2011 to 18 December 2011

DeDeRon - photo by Natalie Holmes

E.M. Forster once described Christmas as a time when “vulgarity reigns”.  Indeed, a century later, cynics are quick to dismiss the festive season as little more than a thinly veiled ploy to ramp up consumerism to ever-giddier heights. Still, for the optimists among us, the act of giving and spirit of goodwill — however clumsily expressed — can still be a way to celebrate the bonds between us.

Purchasing gifts from local or natural sources strengthens the local economy and plays a pivotal role in the quiet transition towards sustainable urban lifestyles. Even in this era of financial turbulence, with Berlin’s creative capital firmly in the black, an abundance of outlets provide plenty of opportunities for shoppers to give something back to the city, while earning an altruistic afterglow that could even, in the right lighting conditions, be confused for a winter suntan.

Vintage & second hand

DeDeRon, as the name suggests, specialises in curiosities from the former DDR, as well as vintage items from way-back-when and newer but equally interesting pieces. Charming turn-of-the-century Christmas tree decorations compete for space with vintage east and west versions of flavoured soda powder – apparently de rigueur at the moment as a vodka mixer. A visit to this grotto will spark the imagination of even the most stumped Christmas shopper.

Furniture

A tree takes a long time to grow, but during that time it becomes a thing as strong and beautiful as only nature can create.  Clearly inspired by this spirit of longevity, Not a Wooden Spoon in Prenzlauer Berg and ShowRaum in Kreuzberg breathe new life into reclaimed wood and other materials, which are reborn as gorgeous, stylish pieces of furniture to be treasured for generations to come.

Kitchenware

Every good kitchen needs a decent set of knives. Holzapfel houses an extensive selection of imported Japanese handmade knives and unique kitchenalia. The showroom in Prenzlauer Berg oozes rustic charm and convincing originality, with a tangibly high quality of goods and an impressive list of clientele that includes master craftsmen from butchers to bookbinders. Kochtail in Mitte stocks a wider and more conventional – but no less impressive – range of kitchen products. Their Made in Berlin range features Berlin gin and vodka along with accompanying online cocktail recipes for the perfect kick start any ‘slow’ party.

Food and drink

Five Elephant cake and coffee shop have just contracted their first micro lot of naturally processed, direct trade coffee sourced from the Fazenda Ambiental Fortaleza project in Brazil. The first delivery will be arriving in time for Christmas, so a detour off the beaten path to this corner of Kreuzberg is well worthwhile. Once you do get there, instant gratification awaits in the form of Philadelphia cheesecake, which Time Out recently described as ‘positively transcendental’. Buying a cookery class as a present for your nearest and dearest is surely the gift that keeps on giving.  Deli-cum-Slow Food haven Goldhahn & Sampson offer, in addition to their sumptuous selection of foodie delights, a range of evening sessions for all abilities. Alternatively, if there’s a chance such a gift will hit a nerve with your special someone, the high-end chocolate making class on 18th December includes luxurious packaging and a bow. If you want something done properly, as they say…

Eco Showroom - photo by Natalie Holmes

Spa & wellness

Why do we always make new year’s resolutions when we know they never work? Each December we fall for that tantalising illusion of newness ahead, as if that arbitrary date upon which we load so much meaning has the power to absolve our actions and strengthen our will. It takes more than a change in the calendar to shake us out of bad habits, which is why there are few better gifts to give than a break from the old routine. A massage at Shiatsu Loft in Kreuzberg, for example, provides a subtle but lingering excursion from the everyday, as Wyndham Wallace found out recently.  

For the full works, Liquidrom is a wellness centre in the city centre offering extensive thermal baths, sauna, steam rooms and spa treatments. Prices are slightly higher than other, similar places, but you can easily spend an entire day in this aquatic utopia – a perfect antidote to the post-Christmas desolation of deepest darkest winter.

Ethical miscellany

Luxus International rents space by the shelf to local designers; stepping inside is a technicolour treat. The innovative concept gives artists an opportunity for their products to reach the public, and for shoppers looking for unusual gifts the resulting diversity on offer is a dream come true. In a similar vein, Supermarché in Kreuzberg stocks Hirschkind’s organic, Fair Trade and recycled items, from kitchenware to children’s clothing, all beautifully designed and reasonably priced. PR company Sieben & Siebzig represents designers and manufacturers of sustainable products, including clothing and natural cosmetics. Their office is Mitte is ingeniously fronted by Eco Showroom, a platform for showing off their clients’ wares.  They currently have a stunning, limited-edition collection of Finnish clothing, available until the end of December.

Books

The trusty book is a still a stocking staple. Picking out your favourite books for your favourite people is reason enough to look forward to the festive season. Dialogue Books in Kreuzberg just made the best part of shopping even better, with their late-night Christmas shopping evenings. Each Thursday in December enjoy complimentary mulled wine and mince pies, along with a tasty 10 per cent discount off everything and free wrapping service. If space is an issue, trade in old books at Fair Exchange and save some cash in the process. The cavernous second hand bookshop has some great titles and, as the name would suggest, a fair policy on exchanges.

You can find more Slow-style Xmas shopping tips by reading last year’s wonderful guide, written by Berlin Reified‘s Sylee Gore…

About The Author

Natalie Holmes lives and works in Berlin. She loves learning German, birdwatching and travelling by train, in between working as a freelance travel consultant and aspiring writer. A keen environmentalist, Natalie writes about sustainability and responsible travel on her blog, The Horseshoe Nail.

Stadt, Land, Fluss

Martin Görlitz doesn’t like the word ‘bio’. True, it has a certain appeal in some ways, but even dedicated bio-product buyers have to admit the original idea has been somewhat obscured in a tsunami of over-priced products, frenzied officialdom and related terminologies like ‘organic’, ‘Demeter’ and others in the last few years.

“Bio is a word that the government stamps on products,” Mr. Görlitz explains, “and if your farm doesn’t have the right certification, you’re simply not bio, period.”

When planning his new restaurant, Mr. Görlitz specifically chose to work with some of his buddies in the food industry whom he knew would also refuse to bow to the bio apparatchiks and their ilk.

He envisioned a restaurant that paid tribute to the land: where every piece of meat, fish, or cheese that passed through its doors could be traced back to the source — and where, optimally, that source had been paid a visit by the chef mere days before its product ended up on your plate.

If you’ve seen the goat that has produced the milk to make your cheese, the reasoning goes, it won’t matter whether the farm that raised her has the word “bio” slapped on all its products.

The name for this kind of conscientious sourcing, as Mr. Görlitz pronounces proudly at the table of his new restaurant “Stadt, Land, Fluss,” (City, Country, River) is not ‘bio’, but ‘local’. It is, in a way, the next step in the organic food craze that has captivated well-to-do and well-intentioned Westerners everywhere, from health-conscious parents with young children to hipsters in Brooklyn, London, and California.

Movements like this have been criticized for their lack of empathy: how, for example, can a family living under the poverty line in America, or on Harz IV in Germany, expect to pay attention to where their food comes from when they barely have enough money to pay for it? Well, “Stadt, Land, Fluss,” which opened right smack in the middle of bio-haven Prenzlauer Berg two months ago, certainly isn’t as cheap as a Döner stand. But its costs are surprisingly reasonable in light of the work that goes into every dish, which is something to consider when making daily food choices in Germany.

“We’re only open Wednesday to Sunday,” Mr. Görlitz explains, “so Monday and Tuesday can be our sourcing days. I’m from Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, and our chef Andy is from Pfalz: most of our food and our inspiration come from our home regions.”

Gesturing to the small plates adorned with sliced meats (called “Imis,” or basically the South-German version of Tapas) he begins to wax poetic on Saumagen, a delectable form of cured pig stomach from his home region.

Stadt, Land, Fluss

Next to that are slivers of aromatic, slightly-vinegary Wildschwein (wild boar) sausage from Mecklenburg, and roasted Blutwurst (blood sausage) from Pfalz. Bio it isn’t, but it doesn’t need to be, as it all comes straight from the (carefully-vetted) farm, or in the case of the Saumagen, from the same butcher Görlitz’s family went to in his childhood.

The restaurant itself is a pleasant space – smart without being pretentious, featuring subtly rustic touches like candles and flowers on the tables and wooden kitchen cupboards on the walls (rather than stuffed reindeer heads, for example). As well as a spacious, informal main room there are also some private dining booths out back.

The menu is split into three sections for the three distinct ‘sections’ of the restaurant’s name, once again hinting at the importance of place in the restaurant’s concept. On the menu’s “Land” section, for instance, is a succulent side of braised beef so soft it merely requires a fork and an appetite, or a pairing of both goat’s and cow’s milk cheeses from the Karolinenhof farm just 60 km from Berlin. In a blogpost on their cheese search, the restaurant drew inspiration from Canadian food-writing couple James Mackinnon and Alisa Smith, who pledged to spend a year eating only what came from within a 100 mile radius of their Vancouver home.

This might not be such a new idea for a certain generation of Berliners, who might get their produce delivered weekly from a country farm close by, or might shop for veggies exclusively at one of the city’s many open-air markets. It is new and different, however, for a restaurant to take this concept and make it their focal point.

We’ve seen it with Little Otik, the Kreuzberg restaurant born out of an expat supper club, whose menu pages proudly proclaim its loyalty to local farmers, and now with the recently opened “Der Hahn ist Töt,” which advertises itself as classic French offering ländliche (country) menus. The difference with Stadt, Land, Fluss, however, is in the restaurant’s promotion of their concept as purely and proudly German.

Rather than simply consuming the food they have been presented with, diners really get the sense that they are being invited on a journey through the best of what Germany has to offer. There are, after all, thousands of acres of farmland just surrounding the German capital: it’s high time more Berlin restaurants took notice.

Stadt, Land, Fluss
Pappelallee 65
10437 Berlin
T: 030 40 57 47 36
Open: Wed- Fri from 6pm. Sat-Sun from 10am.

About The Author

Giulia Pines is a freelance writer and editor. She first moved from New York to Berlin in 2008, planning to stay for only a few months. Two and a half years later, it isn’t too difficult to guess what happened. When she isn’t writing, editing, and struggling with the Teutonic tongue, she accumulates new friends, stories, and recipes, all to be mixed into a heady brew packaged, labeled, and savored as “the life of an expat.” She hopes everyone will taste it at least once.

Kindl Brewery (photo courtesy of Berliner Unterwelten e.V.)

The ‘invention of tradition’ is a common practice, one noted among anthropologists as a way for cultures, both dominant and marginal, to reassert their uniqueness in a globalised age of blurred borders.

Relatively recent phenomena, such as tartan in Scotland, are discussed as if they are tied to the birth of the culture itself, and often make up an integral part of national identity.

Look closely and this forging of traditions is rife. Fortunately, Germany’s relationship with beer is one of those surprisingly rare examples of an ancient tradition that pervades – changed but recognisable – to the present day. A look at the history reveals the extent to which beer brewing and consumption have been intertwined with the region’s geography, politics and society, long before Germany itself was invented.

In Berlin, for example, where the water table is particularly high, breweries were historically built on the higher ground of Prenzlauer Berg and Kreuzberg-Neukölln to allow sufficient space for deep underground cellars, which were, until relatively recently, necessary for the cooling and storage stages of beer production. Today’s refrigeration technology has significantly changed the brewing process, but you don’t have to be in the country long to realise that beer remains an important part of everyday life.

A healthy interest in history and anthropology, as well as an equally keen but perhaps less salubrious enthusiasm for beer were perfect prerequisites for my recent outing to Berliner Unterwelten’s tour of the old Berliner Kindl brewery in Neukölln. Built in the mid-nineteenth century when independent brewing was at its peak, the now defunct building looms in eerie testament to its former glory, and is one of Berlin’s last remaining old breweries.

Kindl Brewery Tour (photo courtesy of Berliner Unterwelten e.V.)

Demand for the tour, which runs each Saturday afternoon, was understandably high. Luckily we arrived just in time to buy the last remaining tickets, a bargain at €10 each. Half an hour later, as the nearby clock tower struck four, we filed punctually into the Rollberg bar, a new on-site microbrewery, where our warm and knowledgeable guide delivered the introductory presentation.

We started our tour at the beginning of the brewing journey, in a huge room decorated in stunning art deco detail. A glance around the place confirms that these brewers took immense pride in all aspects of their work.

The room contains six enormous structures that resemble oversized bathroom plungers – large circular vats curved into the floor with tubes extending from the top up to the impossibly high ceiling.  In each vat a specific process took place to break down carbohydrates from the grain into sugars and remove unwanted proteins from the resulting sludge.

From this brightly lit splendour we head down a narrow spiral staircase to a slimy subterrane. It’s pitch black (all participants must bring their own torch) and there is an overpowering smell of damp and lingering disrepair.  My first impressions flit from dirty squat (at best) to potential death trap (at worst); conceiving of the space as a working brewery requires a definite stretch of the imagination. Luckily, our guide is passionate and lucid, somehow managing to illuminate the room with words and stories.

Thankfully, I am concentrating so hard on understanding the German that the smell is lost to fascinating facts and new vocabulary. Here, we learn, is where the yeast was added and the mixture left to ferment. Initially, this took place in long, semi-circular vessels without a lid, but this led to contamination of the yeast and could ruin an entire brew. Later, lids were added, but only after technology provided ventilation solutions.  Yeast was the brewers’ most important and protected ingredient; a closely guarded secret passed down from the same batch for up to 200 years.

Kindl Brewery (photo courtesy of Berliner Unterwelten e.V.)

We plod along, cautiously enthusiastic, ducking ominous overhead cables and sidestepping dubious puddles. Somewhere in that labyrinth was another staircase that lured us deep into the belly of the cellar, almost 20 metres underground (although only a few metres below most of Berlin, due to the brewery’s hilltop position).

It’s noticeably chillier down here as we file into a room with a curved ceiling that instantly reminds me of long forgotten parties beneath south London’s dingy railway arches.

Voices, like memories, bounced off the walls, and it was difficult to ascertain amid the nostalgia and bad acoustics exactly what happened in this room.  Suffice to say, here is where the brew was put into Lager (German for storage and the origin of the name) until ready to drink.

After an hour that flew by despite the unpleasant surroundings, we emerged squinting into the afternoon, our pupils racing to contract in the low autumn sun.  We’ve worked up quite a thirst by now but before we hit the bar there’s one final area left to see. The modern Rollberg microbrewery is a stark reminder of the world-shaping effects of technological progress. Where once immense cellars were carved out of hillsides, the process can now happen in a room no larger than a corner pub.

The pub is, of course, exactly where we end up, nursing a pint of Rollberg Rot – their best offering, we concluded, after much experimentation – and grateful to be part of this great German institution, understanding more fully with each sip why it’s one of those rare traditions that is in no danger of dying out.

Read about our visit to Berliner Unterwelten’s Nazi bunker at Gesundbrunnen here and more about the organisation here.

About The Author

Natalie Holmes lives and works in Berlin. She loves learning German, birdwatching and travelling by train, in between working as a freelance travel consultant and aspiring writer. A keen environmentalist, Natalie writes about sustainability and responsible travel on her blog, The Horseshoe Nail.

Image by Jonathan Thompson

When I’m in a city, I am drawn to the places in-between. Spaces, I mean, that somehow avoided being paved over, or built upon, or that once held buildings that have now collapsed, the rubble mostly hauled away, leaving only the structure’s ghost all filled up with spindly weeds.

Sometimes these spaces are just surprising: When vacant lots are selling for hundreds of thousands of dollars just a short walk away, how has this space remained empty and undesired? Sometimes these spaces are surprisingly wild. When I visit Los Angeles, my wife always drives (thanks to urban-automobile-neurosis on my part), leaving me to wonder at the remarkably green strip of land that separates many lanes of interstate asphalt.

The vegetation is so dense here, I think, these slivers of wildness so unnoticed by the harried passersby, that I can’t help but wonder why the homeless don’t carve out little abodes here, rather than in concrete doorways. Perhaps they do.

My proclivity for seeking out the spaces-in-between did not perish when I came to Berlin. I automatically started noticing them on our first S-Bahn trip through the city (the S-Bahn mostly rides above-ground, and affords a view of the backside of Berlin, while the U-Bahn is the underground train).

These forgotten spaces are plentiful here: vine-infested hillsides; buildings that look to have been bombed out in the war and never resuscitated; random grafitti-covered walls sticking out of the dirt here and there; and an enigmatic, hulking metal skeleton called a gasometer, whose purpose I still cannot divine. They are distinctly urban spaces that have surrendered to the forces of the wild.

After I had been in Berlin for about a year, I had become enamoured with a few of these spaces in particular. In one of them, no more than a weed- and tree-infested offshoot of a LIDL parking lot in Wedding, I once came face to face with a fox. On those initial Bahn trips through the city, however, I also started noticing something else: little in-between-in-between spaces, with what looked like tiny houses and gardens.

The first one I saw reminded me of those L.A. freeway strips. It was on a narrow strip nestled between the S-Bahn tracks and and some freight train tracks, right on the edge of the Westhafen industrial complex. A low fence surrounded it, and it was divided into several different plots. Each plot had a small structure, along with a lush garden. The gardens were immaculately groomed, yet densely populated with vegetables, flowers and often a fruit tree or two. It made me wonder if Berlin’s multicultural quilt included elves and gnomes.

I began noticing these complexes all over the city; some were tiny, some were as big as city blocks, with dozens of plots and the tiny little houses.  Finally, I saw a sign on the entrance to one of these spaces. It read, Kleingartenkolonie, or little garden colony. No elves included.

Image by Jonathan Thompson

These are Germany’s allotment gardens, which are something like U.S. community gardens, super-sized. Though we like to think of urban agriculture and local foods as some sort of newfangled revolutionary things, Kleingartenkolonies have been around for a long time. The concept originated in the 19th Century, when the German government, instead of handing out welfare, granted land to poor folks to garden so that they could provide for themselves. The gardens were also intended to reconnect kids with nature, which was certainly an idea before its time.

Over the decades, the number of allotment gardens grew; when the city ran out of empty land, it bought more, with help from the federal government. After World War II, people actually lived on their plots, which may explain why so many of the current structures look more like little houses than potting sheds.

Today, there are more than 800 Gartenkolonies in Berlin, alone. Within those colonies are a total of more than 75,000 garden plots, each measuring about 250 square meters. Apartment-dwelling Berliners pay between 300 and 400 Euros per year to tend to and enjoy the plots. They must follow strict rules; at least 30 percent of the plot must be devoted to food production. Hedges can be only so big; owners are supposedly not allowed to live on the plot, but some of the so-called garden cottages appear to be big enough, and adequately equipped, for full-on habitation.

Traditionally, the allottees have been older folks, but in recent years the back-to-the-land movement has brought younger people, along with a new wave of immigrants, to the gardens. Thousands of people are on the waiting list for the gardens.In addition to getting people out of the concrete landscape so they can get their hands in the dirt and produce fresh fruit and vegetables, Berlin’s allotment gardens also add to the city’s already abundant green spaces (Berlin, with an abundance of parks and even a local forest, is considered one of the greenest cities in the world).

The Gartenkolonies appear in even the most downtrodden neighborhoods, providing oases of tidy vegetation amidst the grafitti-stained concrete and dog poop-piled pavement. They appear to go mostly unmolested by the graffiti artists, who have covered nearly every other surface in this city with their work.

There are those who feel that the Kleingartenkolonies, with each plot divided from the others by little fences as if in a mini-suburbia, are a bit too individualistic. And so, more communal urban gardens are popping up in Berlin as an alternative. Still, the slightly more private garden colonies, where the community can meet in community centers, seems to fit the particular German Zeitgeist a bit better. And for that matter, I think it would do quite well in the U.S, given the chance.

Up until recently the American dream of a big house with a big yard surrounded by a big fence to keep out the neighbors would never have accommodated Kleingartenkolonies or anything like them. That may be changing. With the collapse of the housing boom, credit drying up and people experiencing foreclosure left and right, former big-homeowners are developing a taste for smaller rentals and apartments. They no longer have giant yards of their own in which to do their own gardening.

Image by Jonathan Thompson

Meanwhile, the cost of once premium land has taken a nosedive, and big parcels that used to be farms, then were slated for development, are now sitting vacant, turning into spaces in-between. Phoenix, Arizona, where the housing boom boomed the hardest and crashed just as hard, now has many such a vacant lot, just waiting for a great community project.

Perhaps the banks, who I assume now own a lot of that land, would even consider donating it to the cause (not out of any sort of charitable urge, of course, but to get a tax deduction so that they can siphon more profits to CEO compensation, and also to unload some worthless assets). And for those of you who worry about polluting America’s Jell-O-fed purity with some commie Euro idea, check out the great essay by Grist’s Tom Philpott on the history of urban ag in the U.S. Turns out Berlin’s allotment gardens look a bit like American urban gardening efforts of old (the German gardens merely persevered, rather than getting paved over by strip malls, although that could change).

With bio-intensive gardening, these plots could feed a family for a summer, or offer an ambitious farmer enough produce to make some cash at the neighborhood farmers’ market. They’d add diversity to the concrete landscape, turn a few of those spaces-in-between into places of horticultural creativity (not to mention creepy lawn ornaments) and keep the Starbucks and strip malls and maybe even gentrification at bay, especially if the little elf houses were equipped for full-time habitation.

You can get an overview of Berlin’s allotment gardens via this map.

About The Author

Jonathan Thompson is a freelance journalist, writer and editor based in Berlin and in Boulder, Colorado, where he is a Ted Scripps Fellow in Environmental Journalism at the University of Colorado. More of his work can be found at his gin + gelato blog.

Photo by Peggy Schatz

By definition, Bibliotheca Culinaria is a second-hand bookshop specialising in cookbooks. But if one reads between the lines — or has a chinwag with the owners, Swen Kernemann-Mohr and Johannes Mohr — it becomes clear that Bibliotheca Culinaria is much more.

For 30 years these men from the Rheinland, who previously ran a flourishing florist, indulged their passions: cooking, and collecting cookbooks.  Many of the finds stem from regular visits to flea markets. “Over the past 25 years, I have spent an hour and a half each day reading cookbooks,” says
Johannes Mohr.

Swen, on the other hand, prefers to use his free time more practically — he likes to cook. He allows himself to be inspired by recipes from their large collection and sometimes spoils regulars (or special guests) of the shop with a piece of freshly baked apple cake.

Over the years, the private cookbook collection grew to a library of about 15,000 books. Around ten years ago, the decision was made to take the books to Berlin and turn the collection into a used bookstore. Don’t let the “library” in the name confuse you; all the works that sit in the Culinary Library are for sale.

An online shop has been consciously avoided, because the direct contact between their books and potentional readers is important to Swen and Johannes. For this reason the shop, aside from the flourescent lights that iluminate in the back room, has an intimate feel. The large, inviting antique sofa and coffee machine next to the “counter” (a desk) is specficially set up for casual chats, talking shop, and leafing through the numerous cookbooks .

The bright back room is joined by a small series of winding rooms that are stocked from skirting board to ceiling with books. A whole wall is reserved just for cookbooks out of the GDR (former East Germany). Among many others I found two classics still on my own cookbook shelf, which were also on the bookshelf of almost every GDR household: ‘We cook well’ from the 60s and ‘Cooking’, published by a female publisher in the 80s.

Johannes explains that only a modest amount of cookbooks came out of East Germany (little wonder, considering what ingredients were available), but they were mostly excellent as they had to be approved by the state and standards were high. He said “Gifts of the Sea”, for example, was constantly sold out. It’s also worth mentioning that the classic ‘Our Cookbook’ (1957), was even published in braille.

Photo by Peggy Schatz

The front room also hosts the key treasures of the collection — cookbooks and historical texts that sometimes date to the 18^th century. Johannes says he’s most impressed by the change in society that is evident when one reads different editions of the same book. Unfortunately there was not enough time to sufficiently peruse these old gems, but the illustrations that I did see were artworks and made me hungry for more detailed reading.

The newer cookbooks are sorted according to topics, which makes browsing easier. Despite expectations, the most sought after books are not the historical ones, but rather books from the 1950s – 1970s. These are often bought for nostalgic reasons, because people like to replace a copy that has been destroyed or lost over the years, or find something that reminds them of Mama.

The customer base is broad – young to old, from all walks of life. But, interestingly, more men than women. People from the neighbourhood, tourists, cookbook-enthusiasts, and also cooks and chefs from across Berlin come to the Bibliotheca Culinaria.

A few key finds picked out for us by Swen and Johannes were:

• The books of arguably the most well-known author of cookbooks in the 19^th century Henriette Davidis
• The most published paperback, ‘What Men Like To Eat’
• ‘The Last Dinner on the Titanic’ – a book with collector value for Titanic fans
• A book of food art by Salvador Dali
• A book published in English in Israel for Yemenis, in which there is a recipe for ‘GRRD’ (penis of ram or bull)
• 2 books by Sophia Loren (the older, signed one is Swen’s favourite)
• ‘We mix’ – a cocktail book from the GDR
• ‘Cultural history of Eating and Drinking’, a classic, that represents Johannes’ favourite book
• ‘Exotic Cooking’ from the former Berlin restaurant Ritz with draconian recipes for ‘Hedgehog in cabbage’ or ‘bear paw’
• ‘The Joy of Eating’ by Herbert Heckmann
• A complete series of ‘The Electric Cooking’ published by Berlin’s electricity company BEWAG

Even now the new Berliners Swen and Johannes regularly visit jumble sales and antique stores, on the hunt for books that are missing from the collection. Books are only purchased if they are pre-1945, with the exception of books from the GDR, and complete collections of cookbooks are especially sought after. It should be noted that the offering of English language books is relatively limited; but a visit to Bibliotheca Culinaria is nonetheless recommended for anyone who understands the languages of food, cooking and collecting rare and beautiful books.

Bibliotheca Culinaria
Zehdenicker Straße 16
10119 Berlin
T: 030 47 37 75 70
Tue-Fri 11 – 19, Sat 11 – 16, Closed Sun & Mon

About The Author

Peggy Schatz is – as the name implies – a lovely person, culinary networker, blogger and founder of the international gourmet calendar. To read her original article in German and visit her Multikulinarisch site, click here.