At the counter of Max & Moritz.

I’m afraid I dropped out of the döner race after only my second one in Berlin. A friend had warned me that there’s only so much greasy meat one can take, and I didn’t believe her. Maybe that’s why I failed to move past two döners, maybe it’s because there was so much other food to try, or maybe it’s because I’m just not cut out for döner.

Whatever the case is, the establishment I chose, following several recommendations, was the Max and Moritz (“M&M”) stand underneath the Charlottenburg S-bahn station. I had had a döner at Mustafa’s, but this time, I opted for the durum version—essentially the same thing as a classic döner, but bigger and wrapped in a large flatbread. Service was fast, with an element of trickery. Carrots, onions, and herbs were neatly ordered in rows behind the counter, but when I told the man behind the counter that I wanted vegetables, the “real” stuff they served—cabbage and various chopped vegetables, were hidden behind those rows. It wasn’t major transgression, but it kind of threw me off. But hey, the durum cost something like 3,80 euro —so much food for so few euros!

The guy at the counter piled on the sauces and thin slices of grilled chicken, rolled everything into a hefty package, and I was sent off to enjoy lunch in the sun.

Durum!

I took a bite, and another. The cucumber, carrots, and cabbage gave it much-appreciated crunch, while the meat was tender with just a bit of crunch along the grilled edges. Each döner place has its secret sauce recipes, and these were explosively good—tangy, creamy, spicy, and garlicky.

I kept on munching until I suddenly noticed just how salty everything was, just how greasy the meat was, just how sated I was. And so, with that, the race to find the best Berlin döner ended. As delicious as this experience was, I knew my stomach was ready to explore other foods.

Compared to Mustafa’s, M&M’s concoction was much saltier and heavier. There were no roasted potatoes and no spritz of lime, two elements I adored in Mustafa’s döner. Obviously, there’s no one way to make a döner, but M&M’s was a little too one-dimensional for my taste. Musafa’s wins this round. I’m going to have to come back and maybe enlist some help to try out the other great döner places!

The goods.

Chocolate and ginger join forces in this magnificent cake.

My stomach has been working overtime trying to make room for everything I want to try in Berlin. While Americans don’t generally think of Germany as a bastion of pastries like they do France, there is a surprising variety of unique breads and cakes that deserve recognition. Moreover, many of these baked goods incorporate quark or yogurt in ways you just don’t find very often in the States, so I am doubly curious to try things.

I’ve already written several times at how much the fresh cheese quark is incorporated into Germany’s culinary fabric. It is used as is like yogurt, but also in doughs (like in doughnut-y quarkballchen) and as part of cake fillings (as in cheese cakes/käsekuchen). It can be used to accompany savory dishes. Quark and roasted potatoes is a legitimate traditional dish here. Yogurt also seems to be quite widespread, and it is used much like quark, although to a lesser degree.

Yogurt-raspberry. I need more yogurt cakes in my life.

The other day, thanks to the guidance of a local friend, I discovered the magical place that is Frau Behrens Torten. If you have the chance to go to Berlin, this should be on your “must visit” list! Come hungry because their cake case is marvelous beyond belief. Row upon row of light, airy, picture-perfect cakes and tortes will make the snack time decision making VERY difficult! My head was spinning as I browsed through my options: the Belle-Hélène torte with chocolate mousse and topped with slices of poached pear; many varieties of cheesecakes; apple cakes; macadamia-sacher torte with praline; blueberry-mascarpone torte; chocolate-ginger cake; there must have been about 20 options that day. I felt so deeply conflicted, after what felt like 15 minutes, I resorted to a coin toss to help me decide on a raspberry-yogurt torte. My friend chose the chocolate-ginger cake with a light raspberry glaze topping.

What heavenly choices! The chocolate-ginger cake was flecked with tiny pieces of candied ginger, bringing a bit of body to the otherwise airy confection. The fine layer of raspberry glaze provided just enough contrast to make an otherwise simple cake extraordinary. It was exquisite. My delicate raspberry-yogurt tort, bordered by a thin layer of genois on the bottom and finely sliced almonds along the outer ridge, was essentially flawless. The yogurt-berry mixture had just a hint of sweetness and so much air! It was like eating a cloud. The genois, which can so often be too dry or too soggy, was just perfect—fluffy, light, and moist. The almonds along the outer edge were sliced so thin, they barely made any crunch, but it was just enough. It was a life-changing cake experience. I have to be careful not to compare all future cakes to this because they will rarely measure up, even counting French cakes and pastries!

Your dose of vintage furniture, courtesy of Mauerpark Flohmarkt.

In my Berlin neighborhood of Prenzlauer Berg, there is much to see and do at all hours of the day. During my first weekend in Berlin, I roamed the tree-lined, cobblestoned streets of this vast neighborhood, checking in with the many independent boutiques and fashion designers. I had completely underestimated the sheer vastness of this city; I didn’t make it through even a third of my neighborhood that Saturday.

On Sunday, though, I had a clear destination—the famed flea market at Mauerpark, where a chunk of the Berlin Wall still stands. The park itself used to be part of the death strip between East and West Berlin—quite a dismal history. Since then, it has been revived into a thriving local meeting place. When I arrived, the famed Bearpit Karaoke sessions were going on (courage required, a good voice is not!), and what looked like thousands of hipsters and young families covered the green area. I made my way to the flea market part, and pushed along by la foule, I could scope out this decidedly mixed bag of offerings. I loved the old suitcases, dishware, flasks, and random pieces of furniture that sat next to boomboxes, vinyl records, and any other thing you could name. If I lived in the city, I would have definitely taken some items home with me!

Gözleme.

There is no shortage of street food and beer at the market. A couple bakeries had set up shop, stands sold beer and paninis, and wurst, wurst, wurst was everywhere. I settled on a stand where a small army of women were making Turkish gözleme, a sort of crêpe. Mine came with spinach, fresh cheese, and salad, although there was a beef option as well.

But soon after, I found something even more interesting—the Quark-Bar. Yes. For a devoted fan of quark such as myself, the Quark Bar was the Main Attraction. There, one can choose from a dizzying array of flavored quark—a traditional fresh German cheese that resembles yogurt—and top it with anything from muesli to chocolate sprinkles. There was chocolate quark, mandarin, lemon, black currant, strawberry, coconut . . . . the list was impressive. I chose blueberry, maple syrup, and honey quarks topped with chocolate sprinkles, which I happily consumed during that 20-minute, tree-lined avenue of a stroll home.

Springtime in Berlin! I am looking forward to getting to know this city.

I kind of want one of these suitcases.

Bottles. If I were a collector . . . .

Baked goods!

More old stuff.

The Quark Bar menu.

So many options at the Quark Bar! Choose three.

Blueberry, maple syrup, and honey quark.

A decorated piece of Wall.

Lamb meatballs.

Suddenly, I needed an accordion.

Some models chilling at the Flohmarkt.

The first course!

It pays to have a global professional network! I love my circle of contacts, and was delighted to add to that circle the members of the Association for Corporate Growth in Frankfurt, Germany. They invited me to their quarterly luncheon at the restaurant Emma Metzler on the south banks of the Main River, and I was glad to join them after my Swiss visit.

The inspiring talk about developing a sustainable financial order was given by Burkhard P. Varnholt, Chief Investment Officer of the Swiss Sarasin Bank. On account of two non-German-speaking guests, he agreed to give his talk in English. After hearing him eloquently articulate his theory of the interconnectedness of food, energy, water, and finances, I swelled with pride to be active in the food scene at home in San Francisco.

I hadn’t really been to a fine German restaurant before, so this was an interesting experience. I don’t know if I will ever grow accustomed to the Germans’ love of transforming all meat into some kind of wurst. The first course was a poulard wurst stuffed with pesto and pine nuts, accompanied by onion marmalade and salad. The ensemble was garnished with olive powder. I do declare, olive powder seems to be all the rage in European restaurants lately!

The second course was also surprising—cornmeal-crusted catfish, accompanied by gnocchi, mushrooms and sautéed leek “cassoulet.” I don’t think I’ve ever eaten catfish in Europe, and I very rarely see corn in this corner of the world. Nonetheless, it was enjoyable. The catfish was juicy and succulent, while the cornmeal offered a crunchy contrast. The cooking was classic, showcasing each ingredient’s qualities magnificently, if not a little saltily.

Dessert consisted of crème catalane, a long roll of chocolate and a version of crème brûlée with raspberry coulis.

Over all, it was a wonderful meal, even more enjoyable because of the inspiring discussion and crisp, modern setting.

Catfish.

Dessert.