Photo Credit: Roland Anton Laub

Germany’s traditional gastronomic portfolio is as meat-centric as they come, but Berlin’s contemporary food-culture has started shrugging off its carnivorous past in favor of, well, plants. An enduring bohemian spirit and newfound cosmopolitanism have cultivated fertile culinary ground for the city’s emergence as the continent’s vegetarian capital. Here, cruelty-free cuisine holds special sway for weekend brunchgoers — in Berlin, where you dine for Sunday morning das Frühstuck carries as much social import as where you partied on Saturday night. Three East Berlin establishments offering vegan brunch options rise to the occasion.

Kopps, a new kid on the block in the much-hyped Mitte district, is an upscale dining spot specializing in plant-based versions of historic Deutschland dishes. The head chef Björn Moschinski’s innovative re-creations include Veganer Hackepeter (sans minced pork) and Kräuterbutter (with coconut oil instead of cow’s milk). His kitchen emphasizes quality, regional produce sourced from small farmers in nearby Brandenberg. (Brunch buffet served Saturday-Sunday, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., at 10.90 euros ($14.25).)

Café Morgenrot is a last-stand workers’ collective in the now gentrified Prenzlauer Berg neighborhood, where the current proliferation of designer baby strollers rivals that of Park Slope in Brooklyn. Morgenrot, however, holds true to East Berlin’s socialist roots — with bric-a-brac décor, radical politics, a weekly feminist knitting circle, and a mostly-vegan weekend brunch where patrons pay according to a sliding-scale system. (Brunch buffet served Friday-Sunday, 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., 5 to 9 euros sliding scale.)

Ohlàlà Tartes Shop, nestled on an unassuming street in punk-inflected Friedrichshain, features enlightened vegan interpretations of classical French fare — from crêpes and quiche, to pain au chocolat and pain perdu. The mauve-painted cafe is the creation of the Parisian ex-pat and burlesque dancer Clarissa Orsani, who constructed Ohlàlà’s spacious open kitchen with her own two hands. (Brunch buffet served Saturday, 11:30 a.m. to 4 p.m.; seating unlikely without reservation.)

Hey, it's me! All smug and sated...and, let's be honest, super-tired in the morning.

While census calculations place Istanbul’s population at a handy 13-million people, the unofficial count tells a different story about Turkey’s teeming metropolitan capital:  The true number hovers closer to 20-million residents. If you can’t quite wrap your head around this figure, try doubling the whole of New York City and adding a few million for good measure. Istanbul, my friends, brings new meaning to the term megacity.

I was lucky enough to land there last week, where I was researching hamami–traditional Turkish bath houses–for a New York Times Globespotters article. Apart from many hours spent in humid, marble-hewn dens among naked, soapy women, I also feasted upon the Near East’s remarkable culinary riches. Lest you have any doubt, I ate well (and abundantly) in Istanbul.

So many small plates! So many tiny bites!

Pickled vegetables, herb salads, and preserved fruits ruled the day, served on small plates called mezze. Along with a host of baked goods and array of homemade cheeses, meals consisted of prolonged, delectable nibbling and conversations that stretched for hours. The most-pronounced difference between the morning and evening spreads on tables in Istanbul? Not much, unless you count the liquids. Turkish coffee paired with breakfast, while Raki–a traditional, anise-flavored spirit–rounded out dinner.  I’m not sure what I loved more–the staggering caffeine highs or libations-governed jollies.

Whatever drink you fancy, Istanbul is one of the world’s true cultural capitals–from its former status as Constantinople and Byzantium, to its current reign-on-high wonders. I’ll definitely be going back and, just maybe, I’ll invite you along for the ride. It’s spectacular. Trust me.

xx, abs

Special thanks to my Turkish host, Bekir, for guiding me on a crash-course into Istanbul’s imminently-cool hipster nightlife. Big hugs to my Danish travel companion, Isabel, for being a salve to my beleaguered, Berlin-weary soul–I’m back in Deutschland with a newfound lightness in my heart, thanks to you.

Guest contributor Nikki Brown is a self-proclaimed semi-vegetarian with a sweet smile that she puts to good effect when lobbing snarky jokes. Her comic sensibility borders on biting, and reflects her white-hot mind. We first met in a yoga class in San Francisco, where we were mutually awestruck by one another:  Nikki and I both carry a mutant gene that allows us to perform super-human feats of flexibility, such as dropping into the scissor splits on-demand. Apparently, Nikki has a few other gifts up her sleeve, such as the culinary arts. Before I became a Berliner, I used to love visiting her hyper-modern Haight Ashbury flat for dinner parties and potlucks, and in the following guest column, Nikki dishes on harnessing the farm-to-fork treasures in her weekly CSA delivery to create a sweet, sophisticated twist on a classic American staple: the french fry. 

It all begins with my Farm Fresh to You CSA box. CSA is an acronym for community-supported agriculture, and is a program that allows consumers to directly invest in local farms’ upfront yearly capital in return for weekly doorstep deliveries of seasonal, regional produce. Sometimes, this means more sweet potatoes than a girl knows what to do with. Fortunately, sweet-potato fries are creamy-sweet inside and crispy-brown outside, and there’s no better way to cook ‘em.

What You Need:

• Sweet potatoes (sliced into sticks)
• Extra-virgin olive oil
• Paprika
• Salt & Pepper

What You Do:

• Drench potato slices with oil, paprika, salt & pepper
• Cook in 425-degree oven for 30-minutes, turning once
• Serve with ketchup (lots of it, if you’re going for American-style fries)

Happy 2012, my lovelies! I rang in the new wave with my baby sister, Anna-Lisa, the girl I’ve loved passionately ever since the day she was born. For the past year, it has been a sad day in Sisterville–the Atlantic Ocean has been between us. We rectified too much time apart with a special, week-long jaunt in New York, where we holed up in the world’s hipster capital of Williamsburg and toasted 2012 with a bottle of bubbly at a swell joint called Juliette, a French-style brasserie in Brooklyn.

It’s not possible to communicate the full breadth of how much I love this girl:

Helly Parsons hails from New Zealand, that sweet Pacific landmass where the climes are perennially warm and the culture laid-back and loving. She and I first met at the Unlike City & Travel Guide headquarters in Berlin, where Helly works as a marketer and I am an editor. When she first told me about Tanzanian Beans, a plant-based meal with a Kiwi twist, I knew that this golden gal was onto something special–so I invited her to share the love. Take it away, Helly!

Tanzanian Beans

I’m quite proud of New Zealand’s culinary culture. As a small, green country, we’re never far from the farm and fields and we pride ourselves on local and seasonal produce.The country’s food identity is very much an ethnic mash-up. As well as our Maori heritage, we’ve assimilated onto the table edible offerings from Asia, the Mediterranean and the Pacific Rim. It’s the British influence, however that is the strongest, and in New Zealand, it’s meat-based meals that reign.

As a predominantly carnivorous nation, my naïve first impressions of vegetarian and vegan cuisine lead me to believe a few lettuce leaves garnished with cherry tomatoes was as good as it got. Fortunately, my curiosity and years of exploration have uncovered a wealth of delicious and exciting plant-based eats. My absolute favorite vegetarian dish is called Tanzanian Beans. Brimming with flavor, it’s an exotic potato and bean combo accented with citrus & spices. Delish!

The ingredients.

The preparation.

The eats!

Tanzanian Beans

What you need:

• 3 cloves of crushed garlic
• 1 onion finely chopped
• 1 green chilli or 1 tsp of chilli powder
• 1 tbsp cumin seeds
• 1 tbsp coriander
• 2 tsp turmeric
• 1 tbsp cilantro roughly chopped
• 1 cup dried coconut
• 2 cups of cooked or canned beans (2 or 3 varieties with mixed color is good- black eyed
• peas, kidney beans, white beans etc)
• 1 cup parboiled potatoes diced (approx. 2 potatoes)
• ½ cup of diced parboiled carrots (approx. half a carrot)
• Juice of half a lemon or lime
• Oil

What you do:

• Pour a few glugs of oil into a pan.
• Add garlic, onion and chili. Sauté for a few minutes, then add remaining herbs and spices.
• Add coconut and stir.
• Add beans, potatoes and carrots.
• Mix well to coat the veggies and allow to simmer for 5-10 mins.
• Pair with green veggies or chapatti and complement with a dollop of coconut cream.

I get excited when autumn rolls around. I love working with flavors of summer, but my enthusiasm is far more aroused when I see the rising towers of pumpkins, apples, pomegranates, and other fall favorites along the street-side farmers’ markets of New York City. The colors and flavors this time of year take me back to gatherings with my family in Ohio, childhood trips to the apple orchard for fresh cider, and walks through colorful forests with my father, the trees showering us with falling leaves.

The name of this year’s Autumnal Cocktail at Candle 79, Mexican Apple doesn’t quite transport you to Ohio, but having spent several years living in San Francisco amongst a true melting pot of people in my early 20s, I’ve come to appreciate the integration of flavors inspired by a medley of cultural and culinary traditions.

My gift of feeling and thinking in flavors is the life source of my drinks. When I create a cocktail, I start with one base flavor in mind. For the ‘Mexican Apple’ it was Puro Verde’s Reposado Tequila. It has a clean, fresh taste that I knew would pair well with one of the most classic seasonal libations, hard apple cider. My favorite apple brew, Doc’s Draft, is locally made with New York State apples, a natural choice, with a crisp, dry flavor.

Kyle in-action this Thanksgiving at Candle 79

After selecting these two dominate tastes, the rest is about layering and weaving other interesting flavorful notes to create an exciting dance on the tongue. Finally, bitters ties this cocktail together seamlessly on the palate. And so the Mexican Apple was born and found its home on this year’s Candle 79 Thanksgiving Libations menu.

Only subtly sweet, the Mexican Apple is a refreshing cocktail with balanced fall flavors, delicate enough for a meal, but equally delightful sipped on its own!

Mexican Apple Cocktail Recipe

• Glassware: 12 oz. rocks glass
• 1 ½ oz. Puro Verde Organic Reposado Tequila
• ¾ oz. Pomegranate concentrate
• ¾ oz. Vanilla bean infused agave simple syrup
• 2 dashes Bar Keep Apple Pie bitters
• 2 ½ oz. Dry hard apple cider
• Ice
• Apple wheel Garnish

Instructions: Add all ingredients over ice and stir. Garnish with an apple wheel.

To make the vanilla bean agave simple syrup, mix equal parts water and agave with vanilla bean. You may substitute a dash of vanilla extract with the bean. If you cannot find pomegranate concentrate, use juice. To balance the sweetness of juice, you may wish to use slightly less agave nectar. If you cannot find Bar Keep Bitters, use one dash of the classic, Angostura Aromatic Bitters. In my recipe, I use Doc’s Draft Hard Apple Cider.

The best part of living in Berlin is leaving the city and subsequently coming back. Every time I return to the threshold of this strange and dark metropolis, something in my spirit sighs with sweet relief. After my weekend foray in Dresden–a swell, little slice of East German heaven–nothing helped me settle in more than the preparation of a simmering pot of soup.

You all know that I don’t do fancy and utterly abhor recipes–how trite and dull. For me, it’s all about throwing in whatever seasonal vegetables I picked up from the organic market that morning and then making a little impromptu magic. It’s super-hydrating, super-nourishing, super-warming and absolutely wunderbar (that means ‘wonderful’ in Deutsch, y’all). xxo, abs

Lovely leeks all sliced up and ready for action.

Organic, German-made bouillon for a little shebang.

No meal is complete without crucifers, and broccoli is my personal penchant.

Carrots noir...

Lentils pack a price-savvy, protein-rich punch.

I love a blend of Jasmine and Basmati organic, fair-trade rices.

Voila!

“Let’s just call it a wacky year and forget about the white tape.” That’s what McEvoy Ranch head gardener Margaret Koski-Kent and I decided. Why mark the trees that didn’t bear fruit with white agriculture tape if that would mean flagging 2/3 of the orchard?

Remember that week of summer sometime in May? Well, when it quickly turned back into winter our hopes for summer fruits were dashed. Once a stone fruit tree (think necatrines, peaches, plums) blooms it is very vulnerable. Rain can ruin the buds meaning that fruit never develops. And fruit that does “set” might not ripen if it doesn’t get the heat and day length it needs to sweeten.

So all summer we picked only five trays of peaches, about six very absurd looking necatarines, and maybe ten plums….maybe. Funny year to have started a jam line, no?

But life did give us lots of lemons. So, we made Meyer Lemon Marmalade and Crabapple Meyer Lemon Marmalade and a small batch of Elderberry Meyer Lemon Marmalade.

Lovely things can come from scapping a well-developed plan and then just working with what you have. A nice crop of cherries was turned into Cherry Lemon Verbena jam, which is available at our Ferry Building shop as I type. And an early flush of apples was quickly turned into Pink Pearl Apple jam, Apple & Lavender Jelly, Wild Fennel Applesauce, Apple and Almond Conserve, and other fun creations.

If this was a children’s story I think the moral would be: three cheers for biodiversity! Without it we may have only been able to offer some mint jelly and a “we’ll try again next year.”

It reminds me of the rice farmers in Thailand who first taught me about farming and what it is to depend on a crop for one’s livelihood. They spoke of a day years ago when they grew multiple varieties of rice. From one small province, Surin, there were over 100 varieties of rice grown. Some could float on top of the water in a really rainy year. Others were perfectly happy when water was sparse. So the switch to nearly everyone growing solely Jasmine rice was a dramatic shift. Suddenly if the weather wasn’t right or a pest invaded, a whole crop could be lost in a flash, and with it, a year’s salary.

It’s years like this one which make me thankful that Margaret is committed to biodiversity and that our customers are adventurous enough to try Rhubarb Orange jam instead of the strawberry standard. It wasn’t a typical summer, but it was a creative one, and, hopefully, that creativity will hold us until next summer when, fingers crossed, plums abound.

If you live in the U.S., you can find a selection of Ellen’s newly-released estate food products, including Apple and Lavender Jelly, Rhubarb Orange Jam, Crapapple Meyer Lemon Marmalade, Cherry Lemon Verbena Jam and Tomato Jam, in McEvoy’s San Francisco Ferry Building shop. To order, call +1-415-291-7224.