Martkhalle Neun is transforming Berlin street food, introducing the likes of
Eritrean beef stew and bubble waffles to a city weaned on currywurst and Pilsner
It’s 8pm on a Thursday, and beneath a
string of bare light bulbs in the high-roofed
Markthalle Neun, there’s a sprawling,
happy crowd drinking beer. Squeezing
through the throng, I make my way to the
temporary food stalls to investigate why
everyone’s here. The Markthalle Neun’s
Street Food Thursday is buzzing: I spot
pão de queijo (Brazilian cheese bread), and
sugary Hungarian chimney cakes rotating
on a spit. There are large pots of deep red
Eritrean beef stew, paper-wrapped bubble
wales drenched in various glossy sauces,
and arepas (South American cornbread
baps) — hot of the griddle and stufed
with chorizo and vegetables. The regular
market stands are open too: I admire
wooden boards laden with cured meats
and cheeses; and big, fat, dry-aged beef
burgers being passed over the butcher’s
counter at Kumpel & Keule.
Until relatively recently, much of this
exotic global fare would’ve been very hard
to come by in the German capital. Five
years ago, you might have wolfed down a
currywurst at the end of a night fuelled
by Berliner Pilsner, but you’d never have
planned a trip here for the cuisine. Food
concept innovator Kavita Goodstar moved
from Birmingham to Berlin in 2009, and
— despite the city’s reputation for creative
freedom — found the gastronomic scene to
be very traditional and closed. Her response
was to launch a supper club for fellow
immigrants, who came together “to make
meals in honour of their matriarchs and
present their stories”. As the community
rapidly grew, Kavita seized her chance to
shake things up. In 2013, she launched a
street food event at the Markthalle Neun.
Around 14,000 people turned up to the
inaugural Street Food Thursday and, within
30 minutes, every scrap of food had been
sold. It showed there was a huge appetite
for culinary diversity and suggested Berlin’s
residents were ready for something new.
Since then, Street Food Thursday has taken
on a life of its own, even if Kavita has moved
on. But the steady inlux of immigrants to
Berlin shows no signs of slowing, and the
city’s food scene continues to evolve. With
the recent revival of Sonnenallee, a street
in the Neukölln district that’s packed with
restaurants ofering a variety of Middle
Eastern and Arabic cuisines, Kavita says
immigrants are no longer speaking “just to
their own communities, but to the foodie
community, too”.
Swedish food and restaurant blogger Per
Meurling made Berlin his home in 2009. He
tells me he moved here because “you could
do what you wanted, when you wanted, all
without limits”. Today, this applies not just
to the arts, music and all-night clubbing, but
to the food and drink scene, too. Per believes
Berlin’s culinary diversity is now on a par
with that of New York. “You can eat well
in any cuisine, from Japanese to Syrian to
Szechuan, and you can spend as much or as
little money as you want,” he says.
Glass of German Scheurebe in hand, I join
the queue at Italian bakery Sironi and begin
chatting to two Ligurian Berliners. They tell
me the thick, rustic focaccia allo stracchino
is unmissable, and I order myself a slice.
Served warm, the bread’s underside is crispy
and golden, its centre sot and salty, while its
edges ooze shiny beads of oil. I polish it of
happily, take a large gulp of wine, and eye up
a Portuguese custard tart across the way. CDSTREET FOOD THURSDAY
Served warm,
the bread’s
underside
is crispy
and golden,
its centre
soft and salty,
while its edges
ooze shiny
beads of oil
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Markthalle Neun: bread on sale at
Sironi; a group chatting indoors; al
fresco drinks; Kumpel & Keule; interior82 nationalgeographic.co.uk/travel
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