Guten Morgen meine Damen und Herren! Steve and I are just back from a trip to Berlin, staying at the super deluxe Hotel Adlon on Under den Linden, lavishly and lovingly refurbished to its storied glory. Right out the front door is the great Brandenburg Gate and beyond that lies the green expanse of the Tiergarten. Sitting right next to the former dividing wall between East and West, it was easy walking to the Museum Island, the Reichstag, and the "Washing Machine" (the locals' derogatory name for the Chancellor's residence, a big white modern mess, which does indeed look like a huge household appliance).
I'd just come from beautiful, beautiful Copenhagen (more about that later) which delights the eye at every turn. Berlin — not so much. My only previous visit was in 1984. I stayed with friends steps from the graffiti-covered wall. There was a viewing platform so you could see over to the other side where guards kept an eye on the mine-strewn stretch between the two walls.
Berlin wasn't rebuilt much at all then, lots of crumbling bombed-out buildings still in evidence, vacant expanses of rubble and plenty of bullet holes in the remaining walls. Very creepy. Strangely, the city was more interesting then with its edgy, illicit feel, lots of authentic testimony to the evil horrors of the war. At the very same railroad overpass in the movie Cabaret and followed Sally Bowles' example with a good long mind-clearing, emotion-suppressing scream while the trains roared overhead.
Now most everything is fixed up, with not always beautiful results. The memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe and the Holocaust Museum bear witness to the dark and damning past but on there's also a pervading feel of let's get on with it already, that was then and this is now.
But the food — surprisingly wonderful! Hearty fare, always served hot. I had this sturdy plate of butter-fried ravioli over a bed of creamed spinach with sour cream at a sidewalk cafe right across from the stupendous Schloss Charlottenberg, which is a total must-see.
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I usually identify with my Irish heritage; five of my great grandparents hailed from the old sod. But my maternal grandmother, Martha Ludwig, was pure German. I guess on this trip my recessive Germanic genes came to the forefront.
BTW my eighth great grandparent was French-Canadian, a Labbée. Readers of Spectacularly Delicious know well that there's nothing suppressed about that genetic lineage, being the enthusiastic Francophile I am. Better still is that this branch of the family stretches back to the 1600's, so not only French but with a pedigree!
Anyway — the Gebratene Maultaschen. Sturdy meat raviolis fried in butter 'til brown and crisp, served on a bed of creamed spinach with dollops of sour cream. What could be bad? We were living large that day.
You can expect more German recipes ahead. In the meantime click here for the recipe for Crispy German Ravioli with Creamed Spinach.