Berlin Reified | Food, design and life in Berlin

Burghead Bay

This is the horizon I hold in my mind's eye, back among the snug comforts of my home in Berlin.

Elsewhere: Burghead Chip Van

You'd think I'd have had enough battered haddock, but who could resist that heady scent, and this queue?

Elsewhere: Kimberley Inn, Findhorn

I'll never tire of the Kimberley Inn's crisp fish.

After dinner, we walked along the bay.

Elsewhere: The Deeside Line

We went for a walk along the disused railway line behind David's parents' house. I loved the shadows of the tiny summer flowers on the rail.

Elsewhere: Gala Week, Burghead

It's Gala Week in Burghead.

Checking in

A poor show, this silence, and now can you believe we're off to Scotland? Too much has happened in the scant week we've been home (about which more details another time), but I have my fingers crossed that a quiet night in a Glasgow hotel room will let me write a little more. This view from Leiweinhof as a placeholder for now, calendar-trite, I know, but special to me because when my eyes rested on this horizon one early evening the world felt perfect.

Notes from Mull

Lately this blog has been more about elsewhere than Berlin, but never mind, after this post I will deepen into life back home, monitoring the cherry blossoms at Rosa Luxemburg Platz and checking how the birches are sprouting green in the Buddhist gardens.

Katie, I wish I could have made it to Iona, but this trip to Mull was another lesson in the vagaries of traveling with a toddler. Never mind, if the image below was your view from bed, wouldn't you be tempted to stay in with tea and ginger biscuits? (If you're visiting Tobermory with friends, I can only recommend Janet Campbell's converted fisherman's house Seabrae, full of loving touches and generous faded floral armchairs.)

Scotland was precisely what I'd like it to be: blue and green and white, full of beloved friends, and treats. Tobermory's Island Bakery was ideal for assembling picnics, and I'm still meditating on the one perfect oyster that began a perfect dinner at Cafe Fish. Back home, what a delight to know there's a waxed round of Isle of Mull cheese to be sliced over oatcakes. Is there anything nicer than the honor system? At the Sgriob-ruadh Dairy farm shop, cheeses were attractively displayed in a glass case; we left our money in a wooden hen on the countertop, admired the antique presses and white Wellingtons, then left. If you're back in the summer, tell me how the garden cafe is.

PS: A toddler prone to motion-sickness meant I couldn't join an outing to the Ardalanish Weavers, but I was intensely envious when David brought back stories of Swedish interns demonstrating the vintage looms. Maybe you'll have better luck? Do the farm trail if you can!

Snow/Ceiling/Back

When I reached DC, there were two feet of snow on the ground; the day after, another foot fell. This induced a certain forgetful, otherworldly feeling. A fortnight later, visiting a dear friend in Clinton Hill, I woke and relished the sun sparkling off the ceiling.

And then we were back, and I made an apple walnut cake to celebrate. I'm eating a slice now. Quiet days to follow.

Stockholm notes

For myself and perhaps for you, before I forget, some notes from the journey.

Rosendals Trädgård, Rosendals Trädgård, Rosendals Trädgård! This biodynamic farm houses a cafe across three greenhouses, and we were lucky enough to try the wintertime lunch buffet. I seldom taste such intelligence in food, least of all in buffet offerings, but each bite -- of pickled romanesque broccoli and red onions, of gratinéed crab apple halves -- taught me something. Back a day later, we luxuriated in the spiced carrot cake. // Did you know there was a Swedish Muji? How happy I was to stumble across Granit, where I promptly located the rucksack of my dreams, a gray sweatshirt I'll live in this winter, and a black-and-white striped scarf that will let me pretend I am a Stockholmer. // Two mornings I walked through the predawn chill to Brunkebergs Bageri at opening time. I bought a cardamon bun fresh off the tray, steaming, and peeled off strand after buttery strand, watching the baker's thoughtless dance of flouring, slicing and sliding his loaves. // And yes, how strange to taste the spices of my childhood in such unfamiliar places! Cardamon speckled the chocolate cookies at Rosendals too, and at Vette-Kattan I was moved to delight by the gaudy yellow of the saffron bun, easily equal to the burfis of Maharashtrian functions long past. // The food at the Moderna Museet cafe is nothing spectacular but the view is exalting, and with free refills on the coffee, it's a lovely place to idle for an afternoon, writing. // Swedish is close enough to German that you can make it out if you squint, so I couldn't resist the Rosendals Trädgård cookbook. Wish me luck with my first attempt, a creamy chocolate orange cake.

London treats

London will fade if I'm not quick so let me just note for myself and and perhaps for you a few gems that I was led to or stumbled upon in our brief stay in London.

Such a delight to meet Tamami at Broadway Market and try one of her brownies and a slice of chocolate cake after following her adventures on her blog for some months! And I couldn't take my eyes off the fudge display at a stall further down: pictured above is one of the more lurid examples. Now I'm daydreaming of doing something similar in Berlin // One could do worse than pop into Ping Pong Dim Sum to grab a quick bite and go to the bathroom and marvel at the sterile, friendly charm of it all (nothing like it in [my] Berlin) before buying sandwiches at A. Gold then finishing the extravagence with espressos at Market Coffee House. // I bought S two cunning jars of yogurt and a basket of blueberries at La Fromagerie and she was in heaven. // There must be few nicer ways to enjoy a crisp, radiant London evening than protected by the glass roof in the Wallace Collection's courtyard, watching a beloved friend dance in her white dress. // And Tommy was quite right to include Fortnum & Mason on her list. Watching the women clad in green linen lunch in the first-floor ice cream parlor was heaven, and we've been enjoying our smoky Earl Grey every day since we returned.

Was there more? There was: I will add it if I remember.