Der Hamburger Hafen

The Hamburger appreciates sunshine more than any other and will even fight aggressive winds and subzero temperatures in order to enjoy a healthy serving of sunshine with lunch. I don't blame them. There wasn't a drop of sunlight last week and it had really started to wear on me.

                                                    

The long journey by train and ferry and then a trudge through sand is worth it on days like this. I order a hot tea at the Strandkiosk and search for a seat amongst a sea of snow-suited toddlers and scantly-clad twenty somethings.  The harbor and all it entails, including the ever-vigilant cranes and the looming freighters, once reminded me of what New Jersey looks like from the southern tip of Manhattan and I wanted nothing to do with it. I used to smugly scoff at the Hamburger for her fascination of what I had come to know as the ugly underbelly of industry and the evidence of a grotesque obsession with consumption. 

Now I sit here at one moment disgusted by the capacity of human consumption and at the other completely in awe of the great ships and colorful cargo that dwarf me and all the other guests. I walk inside the cafe to warm up and everything outside suddenly goes black. An enormous black freighter is moving up the Elbe and it is so big that I cannot see the top from inside. So, I run outside to make sure the world isn't ending. It wasn't.                                                                            

The Hamburg Dom Strikes Yet Again

Rat-tails, stone-washed jeans, and the smell of fried donuts. Hamburgers know how to have a good fair.

Sure, after a couple visits it loses its novelty, but before that the smells and sights inspire a certain sentimentality. Your first kiss. The feeling of rising vomit. A fascination and uneasiness for the people that pull the levers. Had they once said that they would run away and join the circus, and meant it? Lights.

Once I am in Hamburg a little longer, I'm sure that I too will sigh and frown at those suggesting the Dom as a legitimate place to hang out. Until then, I will ride select attractions, namely the Swings, the Ferris wheel and possibly the Pirate ship, and eat disgusting amounts of fried dough while dodging unwanted advances and piles of regurgitated food.

Dom, I look forward to our next meeting, which will most certainly be soon.

Jimmy, is that you?

Once a couple of months ago I walked by a restaurant that had a shimmering sign above the door made of hundreds of tiny silver and green medallions. I wanted so badly to reach up and run my hand along it. I paused, looked inside a window to see that the walls were painted green and the small rooms were connected by low rounded doorways, hacienda style. To me it looked like a Mexican restaurant, which would have been quite a nice surprise, but the name, Jimmy Elsass, gave me no clue as to what the menu might hold. I walked on.

On Saturday evening I was invited to flammkuchen and found myself once again at Jimmy Elsass's. Tea candles sat on paper tablecloths and gave the dimly-lit restaurant a cozy if not romantic glow. Enormous balloon grape bunches hung from the ceiling like guests at a child's birthday party. The restaurant was nearly full and the menu was a tiny wooden novel. So with only one between the five of us we all went with a flammkuchen variety listed on the first page. I had never before tried flammkuchen but had heard it compared both to pizza and to quiche. Not a fan of quiche, I clung to the pizza comparison and ordered the arugula and ham. Quickly after our wine, arrived the flammkuchen, each on its own individual wooden platter. I was relieved to discover that it was more like pizza, but instead of the tomato sauce, is traditionally crème fraîche. Mine had thin flaky crust and the crème fraîche was covered by a layer of melted cheese that was sharp like parmesan. It was delicious and lighter than normal pizza. After trying some of each we toyed with the idea of ordering the pear and goat cheese flammkuchen for dessert ...

Jimmy Elsass, we will meet again!

Ferocious Falafel - A Rare Beast

Hamburg, like most German cities, has almost more döner (Kebab) shops than New York city has Starbucks. The döner is to the Germans like the burrito is to Americans (USA), and so I am a believer in its underlying science. It is wrapped in a thin pita layer to keep the fingers clean and force the juicy pressed meat, crunchy onions and lettuce, sour and spicy white and red sauce (and a pickle if you are lucky) into an unlikely but harmonious dance. It is eaten at all times of day but only fully appreciated late at night. There are good döner shops and bad, and one can make a fairly accurate judgment based on the look of the meat sweating on the rotisserie. Okay! I get it. The döner is king here. But, can we even speak about him without mentioning his equally robust counter-part, the Falafel?

I could count the number of notable falafel experiences I have had in Hamburg on one hand, but today was a special day. I discovered Azeitona, an oriental vegetarian and international restaurant with a number of middle eastern dishes. Though I cannot speak for the rest of the extensive menu, I can highly recommend the Falafel Spezial (Falafel sandwich plus one of the other sides and hummus and lettuce). The sides, which include hummus and tabouli, a rare treat here), all look hearty and fresh and most importantly the falafel is freshly fried, krunchy on the outside and warm and soft on the inside. 

The small restaurant is hidden away behind scaffolding on Beckstrasse near Neuer Pferdemarkt. Vibrant paintings hang from the walls and and the benches are covered with pieces of Persian rugs. In the back room you can take off your shoes and sit at a low table without chairs drinking coffee and tea for hours at a time and shooting the shit with friends. 

Yay Falafel!

StrandPauli

The boardwalk takes you through a rusted iron gate, past a standing row-boat bench and over-sized wooden sofas and right up to a thatch-roofed bar.You are somewhere in the Americas on the Pacific, where orange lanterns swing and hop softly in the trees and you are free to take off your shoes and dig your toes into sand. Tango music nurtures a vague sense of urgency and mystery as couples move like puppets to its rhythmic heart-like beats. You order a Caipirinha and sit in a basket chair hanging from the thatch-roofed bar, letting your legs dangle. As the sky darkens and the wind grows stronger, feistier, you find a seat by one of the bonfires and let the smokey aromas seep into your hair and clothes.

You have found Strandpauli, a charming beach bar on the Elbe, on a Tango Tuesday night. There is no entrance fee even though restaurants on the Elbe are typically pretty pricey. You can get a beer here for as little as 2.50 Euros. If you are hungry, they also offer snacks and typical bar food like pizza and burgers. You order at the bar and then make your way over to the 'Burger' sign, which looks oddly like the Burger King sign stripped of its King, to pick up your eats.

Strandpauli is a great little escape from the city, stirring memories of the tropics and mixing them with a view of freighters and Hamburg's shipping docks. The live music schedule is posted on the website. Make plans to go soon because Strandpauli closes for the winter!

Crunch Mash Slurp

As a newcomer to the city of Hamburg, it is obvious that there are plenty of dark alleys and abandoned theaters to explore. Whether you are a fresh or a seasoned Hamburger, the city has a host of secrets waiting to be unveiled. Some of those secrets I expect to be exceptionally delicious and some of them repulsive, but either way it will be an adventure and you don't need to be rich or classy to partake. All you need to be is a Hungry Little Monster.