Lutter & Wegner

German cuisine, so often perceived as naught but sausages and pretzels, is much more varied and inventive. Lutter & Wegner, a German restaurant and wine house founded in 1811 presents an interesting array of dishes both traditionally German and German with a twist.

The restaurant has multiple locations across Germany from Hamburg to Berlin. Lutter & Wegner on Bellevuestasse, Berlin is an exceptionally beautiful restaurant in a prime location. Directly across from the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Potsdamer Platz, the restaurant creates a quiet and elegant atmosphere.

In good weather, naturally weathered wooden slat chairs and small tables are positioned on the cobblestone streets. The outdoor dining area is fenced by lovely wooden planters filled with White dahlias and delicate flowers. Light bulbs lie discretely beside the flowers, illuminated at dusk. The waitstaff are very precise and cater to the customer without being overwhelming. Unlike American restaurants, the waitstaff doesn't reappear every five minutes so the meal is never rushed.

 I began with a glass of pinot grigio while I read through the menu. Lutter & Wegner specializes in Schnitzel and Sauerbraten with rotkohl. There is a great variety of traditional German fish and meat dishes as well as fresh salads and soups. I chose the vegetarian option: potato gnocchi with tomatoes and spinach in a creamy ricotta lemon sauce.

Prior to the meal, a wooden bread basket with fresh bread, a creamy herb sauce, and olives arrived. The white bread was soft with a delectable crunchy crust. The rye was a strong compliment to the herb sauce. Soon after, the main course arrived. Brightly colored, fresh, and literally bubbling with energy, the gnocchi lay in a simple white dish.

The sauce was light with a rich creamy texture that slipped down my throat smoothly. The light note of lemon in the sauce deepened in the potato gnocchi, mingling richly with the fresh spinach and small pieces of tomato. To experiment, I dipped the white bread in the cream and discovered a brilliant flavor.

I savored the meal and the wine, mixing tastes and opening my senses. Before I knew it, I had finished my delicious dish and was scooping up the remaining sauce with bread. A final sip of wine and a cleared table later, I sat back to watch the evening fall on Potsdamer Platz. The light bulbs suddenly began to glow, emitting soft light on the white dahlias.

Too full after my feast, I reluctantly passed on the apple strudel with the expressed intention to return again.

Get Lost

New York has prepared me for disorientation. My first days of subway riding were fraught with confusion (What is Uptown/Downtown/Brooklyn/Bronx/Queens? What color/number/letter?) In that first month, I habitually got lost. On my way to parks, museums, restaurants, etcetera I would inevitably turn the wrong way and get incredibly lost. Once I learned not to panic, I began to enjoy losing my way. Suddenly the "Way" seemed to easy, too perfect, or something and I felt compelled to get lost. After two years of intentionally confusing myself, I began to regard this as the best way to travel. From New York to Dublin and Berlin, I've cultivated this rare skill.

I arrived in Berlin, Germany with one intention: to get lost. The past week I've been doing exactly that. I walked from Schoeneberg to Kreuzberg in search of a Colombian restaurant. Three miles later, I had discovered many things: adorable cafes, Turkish restaurants, and small shops. I also found the restaurant closed and a U-Bahn station right across from the Tierra                  Colombiana. The ironic consequences of getting lost!

A few days after, I decided to go exploring around NYU Berlin's campus by the Kulturbrauerei. In no time at all I was terrifically lost. Walking in the rain, I found an excellent German bookstore and an organic grocery store. I eventually made it back to NYU just in time for class. The fun of having no idea where I am lies in the feeling that I am an explorer. Wandering without a map allows me to feel as though I've discovered Berlin; that I am the first and these things have never been seen before.

I am so accomplished at maintaining this delusion that I felt as though I discovered the Siegessaeule, Tiergarten, and the Otto von Bismark statue in the park. All famous historical sights discovered by yours truly, Malarie. The irrationality does not bother me. I feel quite proud.

First We Must Be Tourists

Erstens mussen wir Touristen sein.

The first day after jet lag is always wondrous. Finally I open my eyes and see. German written on every sign, green trees and empty spaces. The turbulent history of Germany, the constant division and revision of Berlin has created a dynamic landscape. Berlin is constantly emerging.

At first we are all tourists, caught in a giant foreign city with more museums than visitors can fill, but after a time, the line between tourist and resident blurs. I have a firm grasp on German and my American accent does not deter the locals. I see smiles and hear slight giggles. I must have made a mistake. After a walk from Alexander Platz to Potsdamer Platz, I forget what language I'm speaking in. I've seen the famous Fernsehturm (Television Tower), the Soviet Weltzeituhr (World Clock), and the Brandenburg Tor. I've walked across Museum Insel (Museum Island) and past Checkpoint Charlie. Now it's time to get serious.

A cursory glance of the city has ignited my passion for Berlin and I cannot wait to stand in long lines to the Reichstag and Berlin's numerous museums. I've caught the tourist bug but I'm not willing to succumb just yet. I decide to spread out the ogling of historic and "important" sites over my three month stay in Berlin. The real city, the aching, pulsing, growing metropolis awaits beneath the surface and I will see it.