Dearest friends,

Apologies for the radio silence on the blog of late. The only excuse I have is that my foodspiration has dried up a little of late. Believe me, food is DEFNITELY still being consumed, but I'm having a hard time deciding whether certain subjects would be of interest to my audience or not. Thus, I have found myself in a paralysed state of not writing for fear of being dull. Which is more boring? No writing at all, or writing on something of little interest?

Given that one of my aims for the year was to write more, I've decided that writing about something is better than not writing at all. So excuse me as the blog deviates from being strictly about food and moves to a quasi 'Life in Berlin' mashed in with some baking and other general musing. Yes, baking, because while I'm not necessarily chowing down on interesting food every day (hello salad) I still manage to bake frequently. My housemates love me.

New posts us soon, I promise!

xo

Putting the 'nerd' in Knödel

Hi friends,

Sorry for the complete nerd-out in my prior post. My mind was numb and easily influenced and I had just finished watching this episode of Family Guy. I'm pretty sure my mind had turned into a Knödel. Really.

Now before I go into my long-winded story about Knödel, let's get our facts straight:

• Knödel, der – noun: round dumpling, often made of potato and/or bread.
• pronounced k-ner-dl 
• delicious
• can be found in Germany, Austria and Czech Republic
• consumed by the tonne at Oktoberfest
• can be savoury or sweet.

I believe I first encountered this Bavarian native in 2000, at the fabulously kitsch German restaurant in the Dandenongs –  Cuckoo. Among the smorgasbord of sausage, I spied the innocent/over processed-looking ball of potato/polenta/Deb. Reoccurring theme on the blog? TEXTURE!! Yes, the texture is what appealed to me. With the ball of something on my plate, along with some roast meat and gravy, I was on-board.

I repeated this scene at Oktoberfest last year, almost ten years since that first encounter (yikes, I just gave away a rough estimate of my age) and it was still love – although I may have been a little drunker this time around. Regardless, the fact remained that whatever it is about Knödel that Germans, Austrians, Czech and whoever else wishes to join this bandwagon, like, I like too. 

So, you can imagine my joy when rolling around my local Kaiser (name of my nearest supermarket) I came across a whole pop-up stand of Knödel! Mini-Knödel, big Knödel, Semmel Knödel, halb und halb Knödel, all there. There were even different brands, including a no-name brand for all the skint Berliners, of which there are many. Although I think they generally shop at Penny Markt, Lidl and Aldi.

After chowing down on Knödel und Wurst at regular gastronomic intervals, and after stumbling across what is possibly the World's best cook book I thought: “hey, I'm low on content for my blog, why don't I just make some Knödel and document the process?” Genius, Fifi, sehr sehr klug!

I looked through the potato bible, occasionally wiping saliva (there will be more posts on the potato gems from this book – ha, potato gems) humming and hawing over just which type of Knödel I would make. There are a LOT of different types of Knödel , ranging from straight mashed potato, to mixes with flour, semolina, ham, breadcrumbs, filled centres, boiled, broiled, breaded. It's astounding just how many different kinds of dumpling there are!

Finally, I made my choice: Bayrische Reibeknödel. 

In readiness, I purchased 1.5kgs of potato, four bread rolls and made sure we had salt in the house – just kidding, we ALWAYS have salt in this house! Then, it was go time.

Being radically awesome at German, I didn't use a dictionary to translate the recipe, but I will for you, because I am kind.

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Bayrische Reibeknödel

Ingredients

4 bread rolls

1/8L milk

1000g raw potato

500g cooked potato

salt

Method

Heat the milk and pour over the rolls. Peel, wash and grate the potatoes. Squeeze excess water from potatoes using a dish towel. Combine the cooked and raw potato and bread rolls. Add salt. With damp hands, form dumplings. Place the dumplings in boiling, salted water, and leave them for 15 minutes, or until they are cooked (this may be a bit longer than 15 minutes *sigh*).

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I peeled 1.5kg of potatoes. I felt like I was in the Navy, peeling spud after spud. My hands acquired  a flour-like coating, and one part of my peeling hand was quite red from being constantly stabbed by the implement it was wielding. 

Then, once I was done peeling, it was time to GRATE. Great! (too lame?) 

I grated one kilo of potatoes. Yep, grated me a whole freakin kilo of 'tater. I grated part of my nail too, but thanks to me wearing dark nail polish, was easily able to fish it out and give it a proper burial. And don't give me 'ew, she grated her nail' – we've all done it.

I chopped 500g potato and boiled it to create mashed potato.

I sliced four bread rolls into thin slices and covered them in milk.

I combined. Slowly, the immense whiteness of grated and mashed potato and bread rolls came together, and I was able to shape tennis ball-sized dumplings. They looked marvellous – like the real deal.

And then I boiled. Perhaps too rapidly. Bits of grated potato began swimming about the pot, like terrified tetras, like a snow dome. Fifteen minutes arrived and I rescued my babies out of their boiling-hot bath. They had lost weight. On top of that, they hadn't bothered to cook themselves! 

Being the klug child that I am/not having enough room in the pot, I had only cooked half the batch on my first round. That meant, I could still redeem myself in round two. If Tania Zaetta had asked me at the end of round one, a la Who Dares Wins 'was that your plan?' I would have said 'heck no, Tania.'

Round two saw me turn down the heat, and this gave a much better – albeit slower – result. The round two Knödel maintained their weight and form. I like to think that Knödel are much like children – you always screw up the first one and then get it right the second time around. No prizes for guessing which child I am (sorry Chumbrero!)

So finally, some two hours after I laid eyes on that sack-a-pataytas, we had a result. Sadly (or gladly?) my Knödel didn't really taste much like the dumplings of Oktoberfest, or Cuckoo or even no-name brand: they tasted too real. 

So meine Freunde that was the great Knödel experiment, mark one. There will be mark two. There are just so many different types of Knödel that to NOT make Knödel again would actually be a bit mean to the other Knödel. 

When that time comes, however is another matter.

So until next time, may the force be with you. Or something.

Fifi xoxo

Where no von Strudel has gone before...

Kitchen's log. Star date 9 February 2011. 

I've spent the past two hours fighting with the peeler, grater and 1.5kgs of tuberosum. I have cuts and burns on my hands, and I'm exhausted. The battle was long and tiring, but I won.

While I may have won the battle, I haven't won the war. I'll have to go in again for round two at some stage...I shudder at the thought.

Full detailed report as soon as possible.

Von Strudel out.

A matter of taste and opinion

Hello folks,

Well, content for the old blog is a bit thin these days. With funds slowly dwindling (not really, but we are being careful) eating out either happens:

a) on the cheap

b) when we're drunk; or

c) a & b combined.

Good thing we're in Berlin, where rents and food are cheap!

If anyone reading knows Mr von S in real life, they would know of his love for KFC a.k.a. the dirty bird, a.k.a. the Colonel. Sometimes his love for KFC competes with his love for me, especially if I've done something mean, like make fun of how much time he spends on the Internet, his one blond eyebrow or how skinny he is (I love you baby!!)

Anyway, we were sitting together one afternoon, trying to think of where the nearest fast food outlet was located (we may have been hungover) and I commented that I couldn't even think of where the nearest KFC was. It turns out KFC, like most of Berlin's fast food outlets, is located in the middle* of the city, Alexanderplatz bahnhof. There you can find McDonalds and KFC. But what's squished between both of those stores? A currywurst restaurant and two bakeries, and just a little further down the line, a döner stand.

We came to the conclusion that Berlin lacks the big-name fast food restaurants because frankly, it's hard to compete in a city that worships at the altar of currywurst and döner every Sunday (albeit a little bit earlier than standard church-going hours. Try 3am).

According to Wikipedia döner, like currywurst, originated in Berlin, “The German-style döner kebab was supposedly invented by a Turkish immigrant in Berlin in the 1970s, and became a popular German take-away food during the 1990s.”

So what is it that makes up this German-style döner? Well, specifics change from stand to stand, but generally the German-style döner is this: turkish bread, warmed and pressed in a sandwich grill, meat from the spit, which may be lamb, beef or chicken (did you know that döner kebab actually means rotating meat?) salad of some variety – may be lettuce, tomato, cucumber, onion, and a choice of three sauces: scharfe (hot) knoblauch (garlic) and kraute (herbed mayo-type sauce). Varieties on the standard include the addition of fried vegetables, feta cheese, a spritz of lemon or even french fries.

Contemplating my döner

Vegetarians reading need not feel excluded. Given that Turkey is an Islamic country, a portion of the population are also practising vegetarians, and thus tofu kebabs, falafel kebabs, or even just a normal kebab sans meat are often available on menus.

Given that döner is available to both vegetarians and omnivores, it's no surprise that the döner industry in Germany is booming. According to Tarkan Tasyumruk, president of the Association of Turkish Döner Producers in Europe (yes, it's a real association!), in 2010 more than 400 tonnes of döner kebab meat was produced every day, and annual sales of döner in Germany amount to EUR2.5 billion.

I mentioned earlier that food in Berlin is cheap. Taking into account that the average döner ranges in price from EUR2.50 – EUR3.50, that's an incredible amount of döner being consumed in a country stereotypically pegged as being wurst and kraut eaters. Well, make that wurst, kraut and döner eaters!

Just as everyone has their opinion on who does the best kebabs in Berlin (Mustafa's Gemüse Kebap on Mehringdamm for me) everyone has an opinion on which is better: Döner Kebab or Döner Dürüm? I've weighed up pros and cons of the two main types of döner available in Berlin below.

Döner Dürüm

Probably what people from Australia and New Zealand would call a kebab – meat from the spit, wrapped in flat bread and dripping with garlic sauce. Oh, and salad too!

According to some, the dürüm has its advantage as a better 'traveller' – being all snuggly rolled up, there is less chance of spillage when consuming. Dürüm also contains more filling, as the flat bread is considerably larger that its Turkish-bread rival.

However, if one is to have more, one is to pay more. Generally, a dürüm is approximately 50 cents more expensive than a döner, and sometimes, no matter how tightly wrapped, if you're a battler when you eat, there is no saving you nor that precious piece of extra crispy meat from hitting the floor.

The perfect travel-snack: dürüm

Döner Kebab

Fresh turkish bread, toasted and then loaded up with goodies. I think of the döner kebab as the original; after all, when ordering in Germany, one simply asks for a döner, and this is what you get.

Advantages of the döner include being able to select which section to bite from i.e. ooh, I see you there, extra tasty portion of meat *chomp* and affordability. If you're a texture person, like me, the döner is the way to go – freshly toasted bread? Heck yes!

Disadvantage (really, there's only one) - ridiculously messy to eat, even for neat eaters such as myself.

As I said earlier, everyone has their preference. For me, the winner will always be the döner – the original, and the best. The combination of freshly toasted bread, being able to pick out bits of meat and fried vegetables, and the ability to show off my neat eating skills? Well, it's obvious!

So friends, what's your opinion: döner or dürüm? And for interests' sake – where's your favourite kebab shop, and what makes it special?

xx Fifi von Strudel

* it feels like Berlin doesn't really have a centre, a real heart, but I'd say it's somewhere in Mitte. Berlin lacks high rises and other cues which indicate a central business district. For me, the closest city centre feeling is in Mitte, near the Brandenburg Gate, near Friedrichstrasse U-bahn.

Strudel for One

Presently unoccupied and without means of income, I have taken it upon myself to fill my days with reading blogs, reading books, watching Mad Men, trying new dinner recipes and coming up with reasons to blog (and occasionally applying for jobs).

Today's reason to blog: attempt to fatten-up skinny boyfriend.

As luck would have it, travelling had opposite affects on me and my beloved: while I stacked it on (my name's Fifi and I'm addicted to baklava), he lost it. Since settling down in Berlin, we are now trying to do the opposite once again: I'm trying to lose it, he's trying to stack it on.

One way of torturing myself/assisting Mr von Strudel in his weight gain attempts is to cook for him. Or rather, bake for him. Today's helpful assistance was to create that German/Austrian classic, and my namesake: Apfel Strudel.

One thing that needs to be said before I forge ahead and give you recipes is this: I am an intuitive baker/cook. This in turn annoys the bejeebus out of Mr von Strudel who is attempting to learn to cook some of my recipes. Recipes which actually don't exist. Recipes which change almost every time I cook them.

So, without further a-do, Fifi von Strudel's strudel (or more accurately Apfeltasche - apple pocket)

If you have oodles of time on your hands, you can make your own puff-pastry. I have oodles of time, but the thought of making my own pastry frightens me (kind of like creating a sour dough starter...it's ALIVE) so I used the pre-made, frozen stuff.

Zutaten/ingredients

1 sheet of puff pastry

1 granny smith apple, peeled, cored, chopped into 2cm cubes

squirt of lemon juice to keep apples from browning

1 tablespoon powdered sugar

1 teaspoon cinnamon

3 tablespoons water

Methode/Method

Pour water, sugar and cinnamon into a pot and bring to boil. Add apples and cook until water mixture nearly evaporated (5 minutes or so). Arrange apples on pastry and fold, pinching the edges to seal. Poke some holes to allow any extra steam to escape. Bake for 15 minutes.

Sift some powdered sugar over the top and eat. This one may need a couple of minutes to cool, or a sign that says 'Caution: contents hot'. Pour some custard/cream/ice cream over the top for extra fattening/deliciousness.

Personally, I felt this recipe could be improved – although I promise only tasted a tiny bit – by adding custard to the apple mixture.

Perhaps that can be tomorrow's task.

xoxo Fifi

Trespassing on someone else's site

Welcome to 2011 my friends: where the eating doesn't stop, but sometimes pauses for a much needed detox - sorry for the absence!

Well, everyone seems to be writing their list of goals for the year ahead - it makes me excited for what 2011 will bring. And while looking forward, I also love to look back, to think 'where was I 365 days ago?' Well that one's easy - half way across the world, in the other hemisphere!

A few of my goals for 2011 do involve my blog, or rather writing. I want to write MORE - more often, in more places, and perhaps even in print.

Well, the year started off right in relation to this goal, and I've had a couple of articles published over at Trespass Magazine - you really should go and check them out; I think of Trespass as the thinking person's magazine, rather than the crap (read: secret guilty pleasure) over at The Superficial. No link, if you're really interested, look it up.

Back to Trespass. Living in Berlin, I thought I would use the city as inspiration and write on something so typical to the place: Currywurst. Little did I imagine that in doing so, I would attract the attention of the Currywurst Fan Club, with some more hot tips on where I should be eating my wurst. Amazing.

The beast that is Currywurst mit Pommes

In any case, why don't you head on over to Trespass, check out my review, maybe leave a comment if you're in to that kind of thing, and maybe even press the like button, if your right finger is up to the task?

Now, I did mention 'a few' of my goals involve my blog. Well, the second goal I'd like to make public is that at some stage this year I WILL go to a Michelin star restaurant. There are at least five one-star rated restaurants in Berlin and I would love to check at least one of them out. And of course share the experience with you all (via the blog, I certainly can't afford to take you all with me).

So, my gourmand friends, I leave you with a question today (trying something new!) - is there a German food you would like me to write about? Something you've heard rumours of? Or simply want to know if Germans really do eat sausage and drink beer all day long? Post a comment and let me know!

Viele liebe Grüße,

Fifi von Strudel xo

Last Turkey-related post, I swear!

Schönes Guten Tag meine Lieblinge!

Und so, jetzt bin ich in Deutschland. Na, bin ich hier seit 6 (fast 7) wochen schon aber schreibe ich nur jetzt. Es tut mir leid meine Schätze!

Are you all thoroughly impressed with my mad German skills? You should be – I've been learning since I was 14 years old (albeit in varying degrees of sincerity) including most recently a (very expensive) stint at the Goethe Institut in Melbourne.

Guten Tag, readers!

For those not quite up to scratch with their German/haven't quite worked out Google translate yet, Mr von S and I have been in Germany – and more specifically, Berlin – for close to 7 weeks now.

Since we gratefully put our backpacks into storage, we've been revelling in all the food, glorious food that Berlin has to offer. Great fresh-food markets, speciality restaurants from places like Vietnam, Nepal, India, Italy, Japan, Korea, Greece, Turkey – the list goes on. We are certainly in a multicultural food-haven here in the little capital of Germany.

From food from other countries, to German food itself. For the country that spends a lot of time covered in snow, if there's just one thing they have to nail, it's comfort food. And now that I have my elastic-waisted cookie pants on (word to mah Scrubs fans!), comforted I certainly have been (I've farewelled anything figure-hugging until the snow thaws and I can exercise again).

But today's post isn't about the 1500 different varieties of sausage available in Germany, nor the gorgeous (and totally my type of) tradition of Kaffee und Kuchen. Today, it's about the Turkischemarkt.

**disclaimer – I am now thoroughly over talking about Turkish food, as much as I am sure you are over reading about it. I promise, this will be my last post on Turkish food. For a little while, at least! **

I know, I know, we're all Turkish-fooded out. But, after my last post on my love/hate relationship with Turkish food – which these days is nothing but love, I got a hankering. So, Mr von S and I donned our jackets, gloves, scarves, ear-warmers and two layers of everything, and headed to the neighbouring suburb of Neukoelln. Maybachufer plays host to a bi-weekly Turkish market on Tuesdays and Fridays – the nearest U-bahn station is Schoenleinstrasse. Sellers peddle their wares – from bargain-priced fresh fruit and vegetables (this week's special was two pineapples for EU1) to buttons, bolts of fabric and zippers. There are a number of vendors selling a variety of home-made dips, olives, cheeses, cured meats, childrens' clothing, fresh fish and poultry, not to mention the number of stalls selling ready-to-eat foods such as my favourite – goetzleme, falafels, broccoli patties, dried fruit and nuts, baklava, Turkish delight, und so weiter.

Despite it being -10 degrees, and snowing heavily, sellers and customers bravely made their way up and down the side-walks of Maybuchufer which are twice a week turned into market stalls.

With their canvas canopies strung together across the walk-way, stall holders created a covered corridor for their shoppers. The juxtaposition of tropical fruits and mounds of snow was quite bizarre, but was a nice awaking for our frozen olfactory senses. Walking past, I picked up a Clementine segment, bypassing the slices of not-yet ripe persimmons and juicy, slippery plums.

Past another clothing stall (I'm not really looking for a belly-dancing costume right now, nor knock-off LV, but I'll keep it in mind) we stopped at one of the stands selling various types of Turkish bread and bought three giant Milchbrots – a German word for Turkish pide. We happily continued down the corridor in search of an accompaniment for our most recent purchases. We stopped-by a couple of caravan-type stalls selling mezze: baby octopus, feta in brine, five different types of olives, smoked salmon and dips, dips dips! We chose Tarama (fish roe) Aubergine paste (said in a German accent) and hummus (universal). The delightful vendor sneaked in an extra 50 grams of spinach and walnut dip for us to try – while last week it was the offer of a couple of sun dried tomatoes.

Next stop on our list was the goetzleme stand – our final destination for the day. Standing in line (the place is popular) we ordered a cheese goetzleme and a spinach and cheese for me. These doughy, filled pancakes positively drip with oil, but managed to warm my hands even through my thick mittens. There is nothing quite so comforting as a nice warm goetzleme for our cold little bodies, and with pancake in hand, we made our way back to the U-bahn station, passing other people with similar postures: one gloved hand manoeuvring goetzleme, the other hand dragging a canvas bag stuffed full of Turkischemarkt goodies.

Despite the pained look on my face & the lack of make-up, I am REALLY enjoying my goetzleme.