For me, and this may sound heretical, the only burger is a cheese burger. I can go on about this for hours, but the most important thing is the cheese and how it should smoothly melt on the patty just like I experienced it at Shake Shack. (An experience that still makes me look for flights to London from time to time just so I can visit their single European outpost). And unlike some other burger enthusiasts who swear by toasted buns, I like them a bit more soft. So keep this in mind as we proceed to take a bite out of Schiller Burger.
My childhood Chinese restaurant was on a corner a long walk or a short car ride away. My parents usually found the time to cook, but on very rare and special occasions we’d get Chinese take-out. Its different flavors—sweet, spicy, umami—bewitched me and encouraged me to demand we go to Chinese restaurants for my birthdays. Soon we found a place that was better than that corner place, instead overlooking a bus station in the center of town. Up the stairs from its tiny shop front were dark and cozy tables, and the meals were enormous and hearty.
Though Do De Li here on Kantstrasse is much smaller, and lacks the glamorous view of a bus station, it did bring me right back to that childhood comfort zone, spooning up hot-and-sour soup like liquid nostalgia.
I don’t know about you, but it is a rare occasion that I eat something so delicious I keep thinking about it for days. It happened after going to Café Valentin, just a stone’s throw away from the (occasionally) sunny Maybachufer.
It might look like a French café from the outside, but it is in fact thoroughly Swedish. Mary already went there a while ago for some homemade baked goods such as kanelbullar, but it turns out they have a few more tasty tricks up their sleeve.
On an unprecedentedly warm and sunny day for early March, I found my way into Martin’s Place by the scent of freshly baked cakes that filled the air on Pannierstrasse. It was as though the pied piper himself was there, luring me in to satisfy my sugar addiction.
Once inside, I found myself in a state of distress, unable to decide what to try first. I was pressed up against the glass cabinet, ogling all the cakes, tarts, and jars on display. Luckily, Joseph and his wife sensed my dilemma (a problem they must be well accustomed to dealing with) and came to my aid.
When two Berlin foodie professionals told me they’d found it, the greatest Asian supermarket in Berlin, it was hard to keep my expectations and my emotions in check. I told the Wednesday Chef about it and she too was tickled; what if it had a wide range of products like the ones at the Dong Xuan Market, just more centrally located and less enveloped in pervasive plastic smells? And what if is was more spacious and clean compared to the Go Asia market on Kantstrasse?