Tales of the Tajikistan Tearoom

Some business we need to attend to before the tea gabbling commences: today marks my 100th post! This is borderline embarrassing after a full three years of blogging, but normal standards of success bother me not. Far better to set low expectations and revel in easily attained mediocrity.

In the space of a MoFo month, the count for my all-time hits has leaped to a jubilant 10,000. I typically admonish numbers as conniving instigators of paralipsis, but 2,388 hits in one month? And a 28 MoFo post tally? Let’s jut say I’m the stupidly grinning Cheshire Cat for Halloween. Oh and happy Day of Free Candy! Creepers patiently await this annual chance to cloak their actions in holiday patronage.

But now the topic du jour: the Tajikistan Tearoom. Originally gifted to East Germany by the Soviet Republic of Tajikistan, this slice of Asian culture situated in the heart of Berlin is so much more than an anecdotal history tidbit tailored for loquacious tour guides.

*Apologies in advance for my verbose tendencies!*

A spring breeze flutters and billows through gossamers of diaphanous curtains, seeking out the deep grooves of monolithic, carved wooden pillars. You relinquish shoes in the antechamber and quickly descend around a low table, settling onto rectangular, lush cushions colored complementary to the dulcet, sea green walls. A tepid smattering of conversation bobs about the deep recesses of the grand chamber as the fighting aura of stillness threatens to overwhelm. Your newly freed toes wiggle and squirm against the coarse fibers of the traditional Persian carpet. What austere, tactile pleasure of the highest order!

As you ruffle through thick pages of the vinyl-bound menu, a stampede of oriental tea libations—from matcha to chai to oolong—trample your decision-making skills with cloven hoof. While the tremendously gracious waitress translates one page of tea offerings after another, you spiral into a locked tunnel of vacillation. Suddenly, the waitress’ attention meanders towards your person and you desperately claw your way out of the brambles of indecision. “The anise infusion, please,” you submit in a feint of calmness. Fully committed, there is little else to attend to now but a lollygagging leg stretch.

At long last, a tray of colorful tea accoutrements is brought forth. A few seconds of admiration commemorate the proffered mug of finest Chinese porcelain, zealously guarding a textural trove of herbs within. A wary upheaval of the interlocking cover releases a smorgasbord of disparate aromas into the olfactory milieu. A licorice bite of anise, delicate undertone of citrus, mysterious infusion of acerbic pungencies… all is seeped and coerced into unity. A few lumps of rock sugar plunked in and voila! A pleasingly mellifluous beverage is ready for consumption.

Photo Credit: Rachel Minier

Deeply sip and savor the sweet bouquet. Sip and sweetly savor.

Fellows around the table extol a flurry of tea drinks as you nod your head in passive compliance with decorum. Names slide in and quickly out of cognizance–after all, you subconsciously aver, the only tea that deserves brain space is your own.

However, one magenta iced tea anchored by pineapple slices winks its xanthous lemon garnish in a coquettish plead for a portrait. You fumble for your compact Canon in the black of your pockets to snap a compulsory photo. Meanwhile, your ever-pugilistic vegan conscience battles against a yearning to nibble a sugar-coated tea biscuit. Said qualms are brushed aside, if only for the hour.

Scintillating varieties of rock sugars are cautiously taste-tested from their uniform bowels. The wind-swept and ethereal Emily Unruh becomes lost in pensiveness as she and others verbally sleuth the identity of each unknown sugar.

Fast-forward 3 or some odd days. Lizzy the All-Knowing (who earlier suggested a visit to Ritter Sport’s Bunte Schokowelt) deserves due credit for the discovery of this hidden Berlin gem. To commemorate the end of a week-long romp through Berlin, she and boyfriend Ben suggest a farewell Tajikistan dusk tea. Fitting, you concur.

In their celebratory exuberance, the couple spring for the Russian tea ceremony (€7.50 per person) while you order a soothing cup of oolong. From the glistening copper vat, Lizzy doles out portions of steaming water with an adroit flick of the spigot. An amorphous current of of strong black tea is then gracefully spouted into each waiting vessel. In covetous awe you examine the vast plethora of ceremonial accompaniments: candied lemon peel, rum raisins, various jams, chilled vodka, and a jar stuffed with cookies and tea biscuits. The dazzle of the new transports all into a garrulous frenzy of high spirits.

As you mindlessly spoon about the murky depths of your lemony cup of warmth and comfort, tomorrow afternoon’s impending flight (and indeed little else) can penetrate your deep mode of rumination. Berlin adventures may soon end, but these memories at the Tajikistan Tearoom are safely stored away for future reminiscing. The piquant amber broth, the soothing quiet of the calm, the glimmers of shared smiles: shrouded in sacred reverence, all.

Tajikistan Tearoom (Bahn: Friedrichstraße)

Am Festungsgraben 1

10117 Berlin, Germany

El Piano: Granada, España

(Have I been a sufficiently dilatory blogger today? Here is the cue for all those in the congregation to intone a communal aye.)

Although Spain is perhaps more amenable to jamon-lovers than happy-pig-petters, all chances of happy meal times are not lost. Granada’s El Piano is non-negotiable pit stop for any itinerant, particularly one perennially courting the flighty mistress that is tasty vegan eats.

Situated a few blocks away from my host’s piso, El Piano predictably became a regular haunt throughout my 100ish hours in sun-soaked Granada. On first visit I was fleeing 34° (Celsius) heat, thus necessitating a beverage and some sort of teeth-rotting pastry. The organic sparkling elderflower soda was particularly memorable, but be warned that the ginger version (purchased on a later visit) packs an astringent wallop. Ya-howza.

The above photo solely triggers memories of decadent why-can’t-there-be-more frosting; all other brownie gustatory particulars have evaded me.

El Piano is known for their take-out, evidenced by the handsome display case stuffed with a global rainbow of of entrées and pastries. The pictured employee congenially listened to my stumbling Spanish, midway through revealing his perfect English with a twitching smile instantly rebuffed by a nervous giggle of relief (mine). Granada locals largely snub the use of English, Ugly Americans take note.

In this spectacularly unappetizing photo, we have milky upchuck smeared on a veggie patty, leaning on two indiscriminate tiers of ball-y mush, moated by a dingy yellow, viscous goop. This photographic platitude may not riotously pique the senses, but beauty is oft’ a mendacious bastard in the culinary lens. I was voraciously lapping up every last sporkful of my tzatziki-smeared burger, chili sin carne, unidentified onion balls, and yellow daal. The onion balls of mysterious moniker were a popular item amongst fellow diners—a repeated order on my third visit, no less.

In an effort to sample (and maliciously photograph) as many El Piano picks as possible, I bought this sugar-free brownie for the road, or more specifically, a hot bench in a tree-lined plaza a few streets parallel. Moist, saccharine, and seed-speckled, the pastry likely employed dates and fruits as its primary source of sweetness.

The piano that started it all, I presume.

And now for the loathed wrap-up compendium, which I hereby transform into phrases lazily punctuated by exclamation marks:

Economical! All gluten-free! Gnarly beverage selection! Vegan groceries! Take-away! International vegan cuisine! …El Piano!

El Piano

c/Gran Capitan, 7 Bajo

18002 Granada, Spain

Scrumptious Sandwiches at Sugar Plum Vegan

I like to consider myself an unofficial sandwich savant, one skilled in the art of of gluing foodstuffs of varying textures and flavors and into a cozy blanket of carb-y gluten. Yet when the (not so) laborious effort of baking tofu surpasses my midday meal motivation, Sugar Plum Vegan Cafe thankfully offers a disparate menu of plant-based sandwiches in an idyllic atmosphere.

While PeTA may possess an audacious talent to pique the sane vegan community, you have to hope they wouldn’t bequeath a “Top 5 Vegan Sandwiches” award willy nilly.

Although I have no desire to defame the oft-revered Tempeh Reuben, I myself do not count this sandwich as a culinary paramour. While countless North American vegans extol the combination of rye bread, sauerkraut, pickles, choice of protein (overwhelmingly tempeh), and thousand island dressing as the paradigm of the perfect sandwich, I cautiously rank it high on the scale of mediocrity. The above version was characteristically pungent in caraway, fennel, and other spices with tellingly full jars in my spice rack. The marinated tempeh was pleasingly moist, complementing the ever-tangy fermented onions and standard ketchup-based spread. For the sake of succinctness: if you brand yourself a Reuben minion, you are in luck with this sammie.

I would have gleefully abnegated my Tempeh Reuben for my mother’s tantalizing Midtown Club, detailed per online menu as “Homemade Gluten-Free Tempeh Bacon, Romaine, Tomato, Avocado, Clover Sprouts and Vegenaise on Multi-Grain Bread.” Despite my Yank-ish, punctilious nature to correct the lack of Oxford comma and profusion of German-inspired capitalization, the description is sound. Each component meshed effortlessly to produce a sum greater than its oh-so-great parts. When my mother offered me the leftover half in a gesture of motherly amity, I accepted with grateful alacrity.

After a failed attempt to order a fresh young coconut, I hastily switched my request to a house-made kombucha. With empathetic face held low the contrite cashier bemoaned the depletion of their stock of kombucha and graciously offered the remaining amount gratis. Serendipitous outcome? A near 16 ounces of free berry-flavored fermented tea speckled with lilliputian morsels of unknown matter. These possible berries were forthwith rapidly straw-vacuumed while my mother looked on in parental amusement.

Yesterday I venerated Sugar Plum’s front patio while today’s lionized locus is the back patio. There is very little to prevent at least an ambivalent attachment towards the place. Purring felines supinely stretch hind legs across couch cushions, modern art peeks behind corners, and stretching cords of twinkle lights adorned with Chinese latterns purvey all. The acoustics discourage a cacophony of conversational echo while diffusing the atypical noises of Midtown bustle. Alternatively, those prone to introspection can take advantage of the tranquility to wallow in the ebb and flow of vivacious rumination.

Conclusion: next time I sandwich at Sugar Plum’s back patio, I’m committed to an order of the award-winning Jackfruit Tuna Melt. That is, unless a nice homemade tempeh, cuke, and hummus doesn’t call my name from the wondrous depths of the icebox.

Sugar Plum Vegan *Check out their page for a “Free Sweet with $20 purchase” coupon*

2315 K Street
Sacramento, CA 95816

Sugar Plum Vegan: Bottomless Brunch

The last MuffinTopped mention of Sacramento’s vegan brunch scene (at Fox & Goose) evoked emotions metaphorically lacking in highfalutin cartwheels or cries of vehement exclamation. Yet there are no such critical misgivings slash statements of noncommittal in today’s writing vicinity. This forthcoming tale of heavenly Bottomless Brunch takes place at Sacramento’s only all-vegan restaurant, Sugar Plum Vegan Cafe.

Any vegan lumberjack* would declare herself one grossly satiated customer after such a mountainous feasting. As I shuffled past the arrangement of chafing-dishes, I loaded up on “hempy blueberry pancakes,” seasonal tofu frittata, halves of creme-filled cookie sandwiches, roasted potatoes, salad, and a few tumescent strawberries. I sang conversational praises to all of my plate’s contents except for the tofu frittata, which I diagnosed as bland goop, and the all-too-austere salad (waving its leafy tendril back left). In this traditionalist’s belief, no salad has the right to intrude on the sacredness of brunch. All other fractions of the pie plate could be described utilizing every obsolete word comprising the “delicious” thesaurus entry.

* Is such a hopeful writer’s creation equivalent to belief in Bigfoot?

What the lauded Arrested Development series is to television aficionados, biscuits and gravy are (is?) to brunch devotees. In plain speak: conquering legend.

Since I count no blood links of any kind to this dish I can only reflect, without hyperarticulate comparison or description, that I immensely enjoyed Sugar Plum’s version. I would have preferred a more circular biscuit bedecked with flaky layers, but this doughy, amorphous butter pastry was no slouch t’all. The gravy was thankfully smooth and saporous whilst immaculately compensating for the biscuit’s semi-dryness. I’m coming off a bit Negative Nancy, but with critique’s hat clamped on I cannot help but overanalyze the faults of a dish that I admittedly devoured with gusto.

The brother ponders lens cap in poetic stillness as the tree branches speckle his form in shadow.

Sugar Plum’s verdant front patio is a serene locale to indulge in the classic brunch pleasures: relaxed mid-morning conversation, thoughtful solace, and gluttonous consumption of comfort food.

If I were a tourist to Sacramento (although I am most unequivocally the opposite), I would spend my Sunday morning browsing through the rampant local delights of Midtown’s boutiques, used bookstores, and art galleries, concluding at Sugar Plum (after 11 a.m.) for a lazy, lingering brunch. “Krispy Kreme-like” doughnuts are served at 10 if hungry bellies bellow their impatience.

Trust my infallible culinary acumen: make the trek, become about ten bucks poorer, and revel in a vegan brunch available nowhere else in town.

Sugar Plum Vegan *Check Facebook page for daily menu updates.*

2315 K Street
Sacramento, CA 95816

Sunflower Drive-In Restaurant, Fair Oaks

I still have cinnamon mouth wisps lingering from one of my last homemade pumpkin cinnamon rolls and writing is cruelly spoiling its last remaining essence. How about laconic photo captions this languid morn’, what say you?

Sun Flower Drive In: boasts a vegan-adaptable vegetarian menu with such wares as nutty tacos, millet burger, falafel, non-dairy burrito, carob milk, vegan potato salad, and other miscellany.

The locally lauded Nutburger, verily Emily-approved. Specify that you execrate animal bits for vegan bun and mayo.

Real-life Angry Bird that road-runnered to our table at the sight of a skimpy lettuce strip dangling from human hand.

Poised and determined to hog any and all food scraps from adjacent, nonchalant rooster. Fair Oaks, home to over 200 wild chickens, oozes the cutesy quaintness.

Hen-tomato union successful!

A top-notch casual fast food drive-in, but lamentably lacking on the “fast” bit.

This laggard blogger is off to finish I Am Legend and cuddle with the resident ball of fur. Toodles!

Sunflower Drive-In Restaurant

10344 Fair Oaks Boulevard
Fair Oaks, CA 95628

Saturn Cafe, Santa Cruz

Photo Credit: Melissa Huston (the sister)

Have you ever declared a “home base” during vacation? The place in which you ploop your fundament, communally commiserate over first world problems, and de-stress from the micromanaged schedule of Touristy Things? The Huston annual summer pilgrimage to Santa Cruz chose Saturn Cafe as that very spot. Direction time?  Brainstorm the route in conjunction with its relation to Saturn Cafe. Hunger stabs? We’ve got your apropos “space-age vegetarian diner” ri’heyuh.

Lest you doubt my sincerity, one week of Santa Cruz’in included 4 seraphic visits to Saturn Cafe. Vacation: we know the meaning of the word.

This, curious and salivating reader, is the Jalapeño Burger, extolled by our waiter as his favorite item on the menu; he possess the smarts, that fellow. The menu description verbatim: “Griller patty topped with jack cheese, spicy chipotle and buffalo sauce, beer battered jalapeño bottle caps, lettuce, tomato, and red onion with your choice of side.” Vegan subs? Follow Your Heart mozz/tofu spread for the cheese and Veganaise in the mayo sauce.

Everything in this champion of a burger was boxing it out for that winning glory punch. The chipotle mayo smothered all in a flavorful spicy din, the beer-battered jalapeños cranked up the heat a few (or ten) notches, and the (vastly under-appreciated) FYH acted as the creamy ice to the fire. This equalizes the toddler and 20-something in the culinary gods’ eyes, for no mortal (wo)man can finish said burger without globs of mayo and burger squeeze-off spattered on all contingent surfaces.

The Buck Rogers burger has all the snazzy accoutrements of the Jalapeño except, obviously, the beer-battered jalepeño bottle caps. The creamy tofu spread (recommended by the waiter) was so wonderfully addictive that I might consider a Plankton-esque life of criminal exploits to acquire the secret recipe.

Have I lionized these fries yet? They deserve top honors on that Food Network show “The Best Thing I’ve Ever Ate”: thin, crisp, zesty, never overly-salted, and served in a mountain’s share. Consider me the fry vulture swooping onto family member’s plates for scraps, no matter the size of her freshly inhaled fry portion.

Decent vegan brunch is a dining anomaly so Saturn Cafe was already clouding my eyes with puffy hearts at the thought of a non-oatmeal breakfast entrée. My facial expressions resembled full-blown anime upon first bite of this piquant breakfast burrito. Stuffed generously with tofu scramble, home fries, and soyrizo, this brekie burrito was… well… it was enough that it was. The supporting ensemble cast of pico de gallo (wholly ignored for its putrid connection to fresh tomatoes), guac, and tofu spread became dipping sauces to rev up the yum factor. yyyyyyUM.

It is the perennial weltschmerz of humanity that one cannot eat the above milkshake each and every day. My best-case-death-scenario would feature a prolonged drowning in an Olympic-sized pool of this peanut butter* chocolate shake. Disney writers take heed, for this is a non-gruesome and conveniently inoffensive way to dispose of the pesky villain at the PG tale’s end .

Awards, I bequeath them all to you, Saturn Cafe. Star-studded plaquards shall read “Most Choco-phoric,” “Decadent Dessert of the Year,” and “Everything Right in a Milkshake.” There’s a reason this shake is my blog header, y’all.

Saturn Cafe has just the right proportions of cute, kook, and kitsch to back up my hearty recommendation. Supporting facts shall be henceforth cited in no particular order:

1. One of the waiters was spotted with an “I’m the motha’ flippin’ rhymenocerous” tee. Instant crush.

2. The pink velour booths feature tables befitted with protective plastic to showcase various space paraphernalia including vintage Pez dispensers and galaxy imaging amongst other tchotchkes.

3. Waiters bat nary an eyelash at the term “vegan,” with rampant suggestions on the best menu veganization methods.

4. The vibe is chichi caj with a diverse mix of college kids, families, and tourists.

5. All entrees are under $10, which is an absolute steal considering the superior ingredients and all-too-ubiquitous vegan tax.

Most salient of all: who cannot fall in love with a restaurant that befixes smiley face stickers to their salt shakers?! Heartless grinches, ye who mutter I.

*The peanut butter is a few coins extra, but any pb-chocolate diehard would haughtily sneer at the mere suggestion of its absence.

Saturn Cafe

145 Laurel Street
Santa Cruz, CA 95060-4498

Maja’s Deli, Berlin

Today we gambol about the brightly colored walls of Berlin-bound Maja’s Deli, a café hated only by those who illogically take offense to an udder-able (<apologies) cow mascot propagating a vegan agenda. Anchored to the ever-changing menu are the tenets of  neighborhood-friendly service, high-quality fare, and… a cow that proclaims “Go Vegan!” The business card version of this shades-donning bovine will remain in my wallet forever-more as an aide-mémoire of the awesomeness* that is Maja’s Deli.

Amongst the Divine Trinity of vegan proteins—seitan, tofu, and tempeh—I go most gaga over the nutty fermented soybean patty. Thus, holding within it’s two slices of fresh-baked wheat bread lay Its Holiness in patty form, tomato (immediately banned to the plate’s edge for its crimes against humani-, er, sandwiches), sprouts, cucumber, and lettuce of the curly, violaceous variety. The sandwich was far from lilliputian, effecting not only a satiated appetite but also a long-lost tempeh reunion. At first bite I underwent a Dorothy-ian revelation, and when I allude to Kansas I mentally replace Cannes, and by Cannes I denote Vegan Wasteland. The hard and fast of it: I’m no sandwich neophyte and this one was full-flavored, well-stacked, and tempeh-fied.

Categorize the abhorrent photo quality as “extraneous detail” for this plum muffin soars above its pulpy entrails and yellow-tinged hue. I found myself fervently biting into the gargantuan and slightly caramelized muffin top, eager to rip into a juicy vestige of ripe plum along with an airy pocket of moist muffin dough. However, said crumb was cumbersomely heavy in all-purpose flour, casting awkward aspirations of cake dessert status.

Who wouldda thunk it? A rare appearance of a muffin top on MuffinTopped! Fetch those photo-snapping machines, loquacious ladies and dapper gents, for the endangered muffin photo will likely lay dormant for interminable months forward slash years to come.

*I am aware that I boisterously overuse the term “awesome”, but sometimes the work bank holds no suitable alternative.

Maja’s Deli

Pappelallee 11
10437 Berlin, Germany (Bahn stop: Eberswalder Straße)

Fox & Goose Pub

The past decade has witnessed the term “gastropub” morph into a synonym for “pretentious ultra-spendy bar,” but Fox & Goose Pub rebelliously breaks off from the bourgeois trend. Their brunch is a bona fide Sacramento institution with diners barely forming a gawped mouth upon the news of a wretched 45 minute to hour wait; this is the hellish price one swallows for premium, unique British pub food with an (admittedly heavy-handed) American twist.

It’s practically the only place in town to procure a decent vegan brunch outside Sugar Plum Vegan (review to come). Plus, any menu graced by tempeh strips has my undivided culinary attention.

The Create-Your-Own Tofu scramble has all the potential of a well-stocked grocery store as long as the picker can form some chef-worthy gastronomic combo from the dizzying list of ingredient choices. My highlighted nosh: broccoli (ambrosial & salubrious), sun-dried tomatoes (expensive for a reason), avocado (vegan duh), and tempeh strips (a protein rarity whilst dining out). The scramble, mediocre compared to my PPK recipe homemade, was cursed by a chef prone to skimping on the spice shaking. However, the ingredients gracefully danced together on the tongue, with the avocado adding some much-desired flavor and the smoky strips stealing my tempeh-loving heart.

The English country potatoes, while compensating for all the spice my scramble lacked, suffered from 3rd-degree mush. The fruit cup swimming with farm-fresh berries, cantaloupe, and watermelon is a decidedly better side.

I’m often nonplussed by restaurant bread, but Fox & Goose’s walnut wheat sourdough is a bakery-inspired treat: nutty and hearty with that time-honored sourdough tang. That toast is begging to be schmeared full knife by the soft pulpy delight of the house raspberry jam (not pictured). This nectarous spread does America proud; still, no comparisons to French confitures because that’s jumping outside of its international weight class.

The fresh-squeezed OJ is thick and Vitamin-C-licious, showcasing this gastropub’s dedication to the simple brunch sundries that together combine to form feasting greatness.

Fox & Goose’s breakfast menu (PDF available on their site) has major vegan potential: a Vegetarian Black Bean Chili create-your-own scramble; a Curry & green onion scramble served with Branston pickle; and an intriguing Harvest Grains cereal with soy milk option. Personally, I have my vegan radar set on the latter.

Fox & Goose Pub

1001 R Street
Sacramento, CA

Caramello, Berlin

Berlin staves off the threat of vegan picketing with a deluge of dairy-free ice cream options, but I can only vouch for the sole one I visited: Caramello. This bitty little shop offers organic ice creams and sorbets, even boasting a few soy-based flavors. All scoops are a mere €1 so indulge your inner ice cream monster to the point of crapulence. But let’s not be feckless, folks: only adopt an ice cream regimen with the express consent of your physician.

I mimed with the aid of my pathetic German that I wished to purchase the zwei soy-based flavors du jour: peanut and hazelnut. Dreamy-creamy and boldly flavored, these made for some seriously satisfyingly licking. No post-ordering regrets in this exterior patio-land of perky fluorescent cushions.

Solemn, learnéd tip: if you are considering to soy-shake or not to soy-shake at Caramello, simply scrounge a few coins from your pockets and give in to the former. Such soy-shake regret ate my heart cold on the U-Bahn trip back to my room. No toothy smiles peppered those postprandial hours.

I mentioned yesterday that Caramello is a small foot-trek from Vöner: der Vegetarische Döner. Facts have not changed.

Caramello

Wühlischstraße 32
10245 Berlin, Germany (Bahn stop: Frankfurter Tor)

Vöner: der Vegetarische Döner

Bike paths etched in the sidewalks. Cheap museums exploding out the ying yang. Arguably-too-punctual public transit. Warm & direction-giving locals. Plant-based fodder galore. What part of Berlin doesn’t (metaphorically!) flick your weasel?

As a young traveler’s haven Berlin restaurateurs understand the concept of a hearty, low-euros meal. Enter the Turkish speciality döner, a Berlin street staple usually consisting of lamb flesh shaved off a spit, salad accoutrements, and a yogurt, dairy-based, and/or spicy sauce all sandwiched falafal-style. Because lamb murder reeks of a compassion famine, Vöner: der Vegetarische Döner* proposes an animal-friendly version to avoid the crushing loss of ass-kicking vegan superpowers.

Doesn’t this looker of a photo speak multitudes? The toothsome “meaty” shavings are composed of “35% mixed vegetables (carrots, onions, leeks, celery, etc.), approximately 25% of wheat protein (seitan), 20% soy, 15% water and 3% of olive oil,” according to their (Google-translated) site. This combination of seitan, lettuce, onions, and tomatos was drizzled heavily with a tahini sauce, surmounting to one deliciously stomach-stretching lunch under €3. The organic German cola paired perfectly, trenching itself solidly above its American “healthy soda” counterparts.

My two chipper friends, catering enough to indulge me in a 30-minute-vegan-food-trek, devoured their own (yogurt sauce) döners with much cacophony of happy sounds. Lizzy informed me she was promptly stealing my snapshot of their adorbs monster graphic.

Photo Source

Crunchy granola-heads and dog-vegetarian couples claim the outdoor patio while inside the legit “meat” spit rotates the seitan through its never-ending vertigo.

When in Berlin, do as the vegans do and commit a few euros to a meal at Vöner. The entire menu is vegan (save for the yogurt sauce) and pleather-wallet-friendly. Ice cream fiends, haul the crew over to nearby (review coming) Caramello for a decadent scoop or two.

*Vegan + Döner = Vöner. I can’t believe it took me 5+ months to put that kindergarten equation together.

Vöner, der vegetarische Döner

Boxhagenerstr. 56, Friederichshain
Berlin, Germany 10245 (Bahn: Krossener Strasse)