#011: Countertop dining magic, Japanese excellence, and finding love in high dreams
こんにちは foodies,
There’s something so captivating about Japanese culture that it’s almost impossible to put into words. It feels like Japan exists in its own unique time and space, holding onto a distinct style that somehow resists the dull influence of the Western world. I think and dream a lot about Japan, and I’m convinced we are the perfect match. Here’s why.
First off, Japan pretty much saved my life and led me to the love of my life.
Once upon a time, there was this young, rebellious soul in Southern Brazil making all the wrong choices—until a reckless car crash served as a wake-up call. I needed something worth living for, and in my book, there was only one way out: travel. It's a (huge) privilege (I’m very aware of) I wish everyone could access when they’re down and out because I know it can be life-changing. I needed a trip that would get me out of bed, spark my interest, and give me something to dream about. Where to? Japan, obviously.
I’ve done a lot of solo travel, but Japan felt like the kind of place you should experience with someone else. Someone to have your back when you don’t speak the language (I took six months of Japanese, but I barely remember any of it). Plus, Japan’s full of fun, and unexpected moments—you want someone to share those with, someone to laugh with, someone to make memories with. And there was only one person who fit the role: my then friend (with benefits), now husband, who was living in Berlin at the time. I shot him a message asking if he’d be up for it, and he said yes without hesitation. A few weeks of planning later, I knew Brazil wasn’t my home anymore, so I joked: “On our way back from Japan, we could stop in Berlin and get married so I can move to Europe.” Less than a month later, we met up in Berlin to figure things out, realised we were actually in love, and within two weeks, we were married in Denmark. That was six years ago. I never left Berlin. And we never made it to Japan.
Secondly, Japan and I share a deep understanding of the fear of failure, the weight of commitments, and the beauty found in moments of silence and the appreciation of life’s smallest details. Though we often find ourselves amidst the chaos of the world, it’s not by choice but by the demands of a society that measures success within rigid confines.
Just over a year ago, I was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder, which means I experience the world with heightened sensitivity—every sound, touch, light, and texture resonates deeply within me. Coordination is a challenge (hence my struggle with riding a bike with all the stimuli that comes with it), and conversations can feel like climbing a mountain (hence my silence retreats). Yet, stepping into an authentic Japanese site feels like entering a sanctuary that mirrors my soul. It’s most times a gateway to tranquility, where the chaos of the world fades away. In these spaces, you won’t find shouting voices, or the clatter of dishes. Instead, the gentle sizzle of teppanyaki on a hot pan becomes a melody of its own—a sound that tells you everything about the dish, and, in a way, everything about me.
I’m in love, you can tell. So while I can’t find enough resources and time to go to Japan—I find solace in the little slices of Japan that Berlin has to offer. Here are three spots that are well worth a visit. 乾杯! Kanpai!
If you’re new here, here’s the deal…
Who is Hangry Lola and what's the scoop? I'm an impatient Taurus, born and raised in Brazil, unleashing my passion for tasty treats through my words and experiences in Berlin, my home for the past six years. Here are some quick thoughts on drinks and food with no fancy-schmancy criteria, just pure goodness. I'm not a chef or a culinary connoisseur, much less a writer. I'm your friendly neighbour, a food orgy enthusiast, and a hedonistic soul, diving headfirst into any gastronomic adventure. Think of this as my delicious diary, a (very personal) therapy session paired with fresh cocktails and tasty snacks. Every two weeks, I drop a quick rundown of three spots I've checked out and think are worth a shout (from Spätis to fine dining I make no exclusion).
November Brasserie
You might remember I’ve talked a lot about my feelings and struggles around finding good seafood in Berlin this post. So when I heard about November Brasserie through some friends (and after some Instagram stalking plus glowing reviews) I was dying to check it out. My expectations were high, no doubt.
I booked two spots at the counter because I think watching your food being prepared is half the magic and fun. At the counter I feel like I’m part of the action. You get to see the chefs clean the fish, remove the bones, and slice the sashimi with precision, all while the other chef plates it like it’s art. You end up watching what others order and immediately wanting to try it yourself—that’s basically how we picked most of our dishes. Observing how chefs work also give me thousands of ideas for cooking at home (in my own amateur way). That said, my impressions of November are as follows.
First up, we had the Whole Sea Bream (top left corner of the pic), served with ponzu and truffle dressing. Let me tell you—it’s a dream. The sashimi is nestled back in the fish, paired with grain salt and lemon zest. You start by tasting it plain, then add a little salt, then try it with the ponzu, and finally, the truffle sauce. Unreal. Next was the Hamachi sashimi (top right) with yuzu truffle sauce and shiso. Honestly, no words. Then came the nigiri—one of their specialties. We had the tuna belly with caviar and salmon that literally melted in your mouth. Just like butter. To wrap up the raw section, we had Sicilian prawns with lemon pepper—perfetto! What stood out the most for me was how visually beautiful the dishes were, and the unexpected burst of flavors with each bite. You can tell every detail of the menu is carefully crafted, making it the kind of spot where the presentation is just as important as the taste.
For the warm dishes, we went with miso-buttered scallops with artichoke and black truffles, and beef tataki with garlic mayo and mustard seeds. The scallops? Absolutely incredible. I could eat them a thousand times over. The tataki? Meh. It sounded interesting but just didn’t have much flavour. It wasn’t bad - at all - just not as surprisingly tasteful as all the rest.
Now, I’m not a dessert person, as you know, but when a menu is this good, you’ve gotta trust that the sweets will be next-level too. And they were. Our guy Gabrielle strongly recommended the cheesecake, and since we were two, we decided to get one of each dessert, the second one being their homemade matcha mochi. The winner? Cheesecake. By a mile. I have no idea how it’s so creamy inside yet burnt on the outside—Gabrielle explained, but I was too busy eating to listen. It might seem wild to say after all the fancy seafood, but seriously, don’t skip the cheesecake. You’ll thank me later. And if you wonder what’s there to drink, I highly recommend the East Sea cocktail (tequila, chilli, apple, celery, lime) or any of their wines (we had the Gewürztraminer Orange). Kanpai!
Restaurant SAN
Unlike November, SAN isn’t focused on being modern or fitting the trendy scene (which has it’s own appeal, nothing bad with that). Instead, SAN offers a timeless, classic approach to its dining experience. Meaning: there’s no Instagram full of aesthetic food shots, no cool website, and the place itself is anything but modern. And honestly, that’s exactly what I loved about it. SAN nails what I expected from a Japanese authentic spot—simple in its vibe, but delivering complex flavours through the most straightforward ingredients. The real win? It just felt comfortable, the kind of place you can totally relax in.
We decided to sit outside for that extra laid-back vibe, but I’ll admit, in the first 5 minutes, I regretted it. You’re facing Torstraße, and the traffic—plus the occasional ambulance—was a bit much. But as the night progressed, things quieted down, and it turned into one of those perfect Berlin evenings I hadn’t had in ages. They handed us a sheet with the week’s sake options, all written out by hand, and the food menu was short and sweet. No creative cocktails or gimmicks—they just keep it simple, and it works. It felt like exactly where I needed to be.
Feeling in a traditional Japanese environment of course we had to kick off the night with a good glass of cold sake. Since we’re definitely not sake experts, the waiter asked about our wine preferences to suggest the perfect one. Edu instantly locked in on the Hiten Hakucho when he heard the magic words ‘sour’ and ‘citrus,’ while I knew the Kinowa (from Shichihonyari) was my vibe the moment I heard ‘dry.’ And, as usual, I picked the winner. Edu’s still got a lot to learn from me. We ended up ordering another round of Kinowa—it was that good.
Their raw fish menu—the star of the show—is short, so we went for the 2-person combo: 14 pieces of nigiri, 12 pieces of sashimi, and 6 pieces of maki. Now, when it comes to sushi, both Edu and I turn into not-so-graceful eating machines (you can also call us dangerously hangry), so we figured it’d be smart to get some starters and settle down first. The starter menu only had two fish options, and naturally, I wanted to go straight for those (the goal was max fish after all), but our waiter really pushed for the veggies. I wasn’t sold at first, but we eventually agreed on edamame, eggplant, and hamachi sashimi with ponzu (solid choice).
Now, I wasn’t into the idea of eggplant—I assumed it’d be like the sweet Chinese-style ones (silly ignorant me), and I was craving something salty. But it ended up being one of the best eggplants I’ve ever had. They explained it’s cooked in water with mirin, kombu, and soy sauce, and honestly, I almost drank the broth straight from the bowl. I had to play it cool, though.
After a few more glasses of our amazing cold, dry sake, the main event arrived. The sashimi plate had tuna toro, tuna akami, salmon, hamachi, and scallop. Quick question: is it possible to survive solely on scallops? Seriously considering it. Both the sashimi and nigiri with scallops were standouts—totally different from the warm, truffled ones we had at November but just as delicious. The hamachi nigiri, though? Absolute perfection—like butter melting in your mouth. Like at November, we skipped the soy sauce and kept things simple, eating the sashimi plain or with a pinch of sea salt. The nigiri? Eaten exactly how it should be—no extra soy sauce, no wasabi needed. Perfection has a name, and it's Japanese cuisine.
By the end of the night, we were in such a good mood that we couldn’t say no to the waiter’s suggestion of finishing with a glass of Japanese whisky. Naturally, we ordered two different kinds to compare—a single malt (Yamazaki 12 years) and a blended (Hibiki). The single malt was the clear winner. I didn’t pick it this time, but I’m pretty sure I would’ve nailed it again. (Not that it’s a competition, but I do tend to be right a lot, what can I do…) Kanpai!
Rice In
Rice In is one of those gems I came across while walking Pedro near my place in Fshain. The relaxed vibe and straightforward menu immediately caught my attention. We added it to our list and finally made it there today, wrapping up my extravagant Japanese week on a high note. The place has soups, salads, sushi, and nigiri, but for me, the real star of the menu is the onigiri. I’m pretty sure most couples would order 1 or 2 each, but like I said, Edu and I tend to go a little overboard with Japanese food. So, we kicked things off with some vegetable gyozas (sehr lecker!) and a raw salmon salad with seaweed (super tasty and refreshing, especially on a hot day like today). Then, we went for 4 onigiris to share: raw salmon with avocado, spicy cooked tuna with mayo, raw tuna with spring onions, and kimchi. The top picks? Kimchi and salmon! Things to improve: as expected in most German stores the beverages here are not cold at all (including the Kirin beer). But I guess after six years in this country I take that as standard and I’m not surprised. Bothered? Yes. Surprised? No. Since this place is so close to our flat, I’m sure we’ll be back soon. I’m up for trying some hot dishes once the weather cools down. Definitely worth checking out!
Phew! That’s was a long one folks but that’s all.
“Readers are a dying species…. Borges calls them black swans, and maintains that good readers are now scarcer than good writers. He says reading is an activity subsequent to writing, more resigned, more civil, more intellectual… That’s not where the danger lies. Books make different impressions according to the state of mind you read them in. A book that struck you as banal on a first reading may dazzle you on a second simply because in the meantime you suffered some kind of heartbreak, or you took a journey, or you fell in love. In other words, something happened to you.” (from the book I’m reading now: Last Summer in the City by Gianfranco Calligarich)
I don’t know your state of mind but thanks for reading till the end. Maybe there’s nothing that special about any of the things above after all, maybe it’s just me. Maybe not going to Japan feels like a heartbreak. Certainly I’m in love. Something happened to me. Something happened to you. There's either poetry in how everything flows or chaos and indifference. We can choose how we see and do things—when we’re able. But sometimes, the heart has its own way of being heard.
You’ll hear from me in 15 days—always on a Sunday evening.
Kanpai! From Berlin with love,
Lola