Having oft cited my favourite Curry House in Berlin, and having visited it yesterday, time to try a new place. Years back, I came to realise that the Mainstream Berlin Curry Houses were becoming regarded as – tiresome, same menu, same styles, same flavours, regardless of claims otherwise. However, more South Indian restaurants have appeared in Berlin in recent times, more potent Flavours, way beyond the ubiquitous – Kerala – which appears on too many menus, and doesn’t deliver. And so it was with an air of optimism that the Hector planned to reach the south west of Kreuzberg and Yummy Kitchen (Zossener Straße 13, 10961 Berlin, Deutschland).
After yesterday, I thought the most difficult thing today might be getting out of bed, Google and BVG were about to make things even tougher. The BVG strike is over, the U Bahn is running, alas, thanks to the start of the national elections, and corresponding protests across the streets of Berlin, no trams. Google didn’t know this, nor could they spot that the U7 takes one to Gneisenau Straße, metres from Yummy Kitchen. The legs were asking – wtf – as the Hector made the needless walk from Hallesches Tor.
Arriving at 15.00, Hector’s preferred eating time, it still felt a bit early for brunch. The sign – Chettinad – had me confused, but it was soon established that Yummy Kithcen is part of the – Asia Might – chain across Berlin. They have a – Chettinad – out at Spandau, so perhaps – Yummy Kitchen – differentiates.
A mother and wean entered in front of me, here we go again. They seemed to join Daddy, and an elder wean already in situ. I was shown to the raised area where another solo diner, and what would prove to be two staff on a break, were also sat. With so many upturned chairs on the tables beside me, and the steps, surely the Hector was safe from roaming toddlers?
The menu was brought, I could have spent thirty minutes studying this. A chap took my drinks order, I let him know that it would be some time before I would chose my meal.
€6.90 for a 700ml bottle of Sparkling Water was not funny. The soft drinks were over-priced. Bier and wine were clearly better value.
All the names were recognisable in Indian-English, the descriptions in Deutsch, not a problem, I can spot the dreaded – Paprika – on any menu. South Indian Cuisine may have been well publicised, the menu had the Mainstream array of Northern Dishes too. If I want Punjabi, I’ll go to Punjabi Zaiqa.
Most of the Dishes on the menu were not Curry per se but Indian food. The South Indian Lamb options were therefore comparatively few. No Fisch Chettinad, I could have asked, Chettinad Mutton Curry (€13.90) it would be. Leicht scharf – was the claim beside four out of five Mutton Dishes, Mutton Pepper Masala (€13.90) being the exception, another time.
Despite main courses being served with inclusive Basmati thus making the food prices seem very reasonable, the Hector was not missing out on the opperchancity to have a (Malabar) Parota (€3.50).
The Order relayed, I soon found myself alone upstairs. Immediately beneath me sat – the family. Hector makes no apologies, tolerance of weans has tended towards zero since retirement. Today’s was a different form of suffering.
Mummy, Mummy, Mummy! – exclaimed wean the elder. She flipped skilfully between English and whatever Dravidian language was indigenous. This wee girl held court, the parents never got a word in. Opinions aplenty: The Gold Standard, the intensity of the microcosm, Comet Kohoutek, who knows? On and on – Miss Precocious 2025 – went, until the food arrived. No doubt she gave a critique. Does she have her own Blog. The future President of Tamil Nadu? I shall be heard!
I should have cancelled the Rice. There was going to be wastage. Maybe I could chuck it over the balcony? As ever, the Euro-portion, more Rice than a Hector could ever eat. That’s not all. The wonderful Parota, a pair! The best value Malabar Parotta ever encountered, and here I was, appetite at a minimum, facing Rice and Bread.
The Parotta was everything this stretchy Bread should be. Well-fired compared to the norm, not virginal white to which I am accustomed. Still, the Buttery Layers were present, a joy.
The more Bread I would eat, the less Rice. I suddenly cared even less about the Rice.
*
Chettinad Mutton Curry
The Coconut Milk accounted for the Creamy colour. This should not be a Creamy Curry, else the Hector would be giving it a wide berth. Traditionally, it does come – Soupy – unless one is in München and visits – Dessi Tadka.
Small-cut Meat approaching the Bradford style, and plenty of it. The Meat would have to be finished.
Dipping the Parotta into the Soupy Masala brought the anticipated pleasure. Curry Leaves and traces of Red Chilli were strewn through the Masala, key sources of Flavour. Authentic South Indian Cuisine has a way more intense Flavour than the Mainstream. The Smokiness was there, this enhances the Seasoning; if you like this style of Curry then this was a fine example of the genre. The Spice Level took me by surprise, in no way extreme, but so much for – Leicht. Don’t ask for – Sehr!
The Meat turned out to be the only disappointment. Too chewy, and not helped by my lack of appetite. The Mutton was adding nothing to this Curry, there was no sense of the Meat and Masala being related, strangers until the point of serving. Fish could well have been better. Next time.
The Famous had already kicked off by the time I threw in the towel. I had to get back to Prenzlauer Allee and get the trusty Oppo into gear. I could have, should have, eaten more. The spare Parotta was leaving with me, a midnight snack?
The Bill
€24.30 (£20.08) Great value despite the silly price for water.
The Aftermath
The waitress, nay hostess, who had brought my food, dealt with the card payment. The Calling Card was accepted with grace. That this was the twenty second Berlin Curry House to be reviewed in Curry-Heute was mentioned. I was wished well.
I feel I shall return here, with an appetite. Fisch Chettinad is surely possible? Sukka/Chukka, also not on the menu, unless that is the Mutton Pepper Masala?
It was thirty metres to the U Bahn station. Relief, but not for long, a catastrophic afternoon at Ibrox unfolded.
2025 Menu
