This year, our class conducted interviews with Japanese university students about food as part of the master’s seminar on methodology and fieldwork in an annual cooperation with Seikei University in Tokyo. The class this year was open not only to students on the Master’s program in Japanese Studies, but also to students on the Master’s program in Global East Asia, which meant that some of the participants could not speak Japanese. Nevertheless, the division of labor within the groups went smoothly, as those who did not speak Japanese helped prepare the questions in advance and acted as observers during the interview, focusing on nonverbal aspects like body language and tone of voice.
The interviews were helpful as most of my classmates did not possess previous experience with interviewing native Japanese speakers. It was further useful in giving us an opportunity to conduct digital interviews through platforms like Zoom and Microsoft Teams. Experiencing possible obstructions, such as connectivity issues, with these digital interviews will be helpful in future situations.
We also learned through the interviews and later discussions within our class about specific things to consider in interviews. One of these aspects is the idea of starting off with simple questions that might engage the interviewee and to keep in mind a prepared structure to the interview while still allowing for open and developing discussion. The interviews as well as the prior preparation later group discussion were valuable experiences which helped us gain a deeper inside in the aspects which influence the efficiency of interviews. I would recommend the class to other students who are intending on conducting field work and qualitative research in and about Japan in the future.
In May 2025, students from Seikei University and FU Berlin met for online interviews about food culture and everyday eating practices in Japan again. This collaboration started during the COVID-19 pandemic and we have arranged for our students to meet online every year since then. Thank you, Yoko Kawamura for this wonderful collaboration! In this post, two students from Seikei University report on their experiences.
Kota wrote:
First of all, thanks a lot for the chance to talk with students from a German university! It was super fun to chat about each other’s food culture. I first got in touch with the students on Instagram, and we had some cool conversations mixing English and Japanese. During the interview, my partners were really friendly and always smiling, so I didn’t feel nervous at all. When they asked me how people in Japan see German food, I thought, “Wow, that’s an interesting question!” I realized I only had sausages in mind when I thought of German food. It’s kind of like when Japanese people say, “Hey, Japanese food isn’t just sushi!” — I bet Germans feel the same way about their food. I thought they’d learn more about Japanese food through the interview, but honestly, I ended up getting more curious about German food instead! Luckily, I’m planning to study abroad in Europe this year, and I want to visit Germany and try the food there. Hopefully, I can meet the two students from the interview again too! Thank you again for giving me such a wonderful opportunity.
I had been looking forward to this interview and conversation with students from a German university. Both were very polite and kind, speaking slowly and listening patiently to my imperfect English. Regarding the questions, I had never thought so deeply about what we eat in daily life, so some of them were a little bit difficult to answer. However, this experience could be a great opportunity for deeper reflection. For instance, during the interview, I started wondering about the meaning of „洋食“ (yōshoku). „洋食“ refers to a category of food that can be translated as „Western,“ but it is quite different from authentic Western dishes. Examples include hamburger, steak, omurice and so on. I realized that this type of food is a product of cultural interaction: an attempt to modify foreign foods to suit Japanese tastes, resulting in entirely new and delicious dishes. In this way, the interview sparked my curiosity about the food we eat. Since my major is „International Cultural Studies,“ I felt a strong connection between this discussion and my academic field. I would like to express my sincere gratitude for this valuable opportunity.
For the tenth time, the methods course „Berlin’s Japanese Foodscapes“ will take place this summer semester at Freie Universität Berlin. Students from the new Global East Asia Master’s program will also participate this year. Thus, we will continue to explore East Asian cuisines in Berlin beyond the city’s Japanese foodscape. As always, the course includes hands-on activities such as interviews with guests from East Asian restaurants, restaurant excursions, and student research projects. Once again, we have partnered with Yoko Kawamura and her students from Seikei University in Tokyo to provide our students with the opportunity to experiment with the online interview format. The students have already conducted their interviews, successfully tested their Japanese language skills, and gained interesting insights into the eating habits of Japanese students. They have formed groups and begun developing their own research projects on culinary globalization and East Asian cuisine in Berlin. As always, we will document the projects‘ results, as well as our impressions from the excursions and interviews, on this blog. Stay tuned for updates!
Boxhagener Platz in Berlin on a Saturday evening: The queue at the entrance to Weng Cheng 3 is long and me and my friends decide to go to the next restaurant just a few meters away and see if we have any better luck finding a table at MOIM, a Korean restaurant. However, the restaurant is also full. I check my saved restaurants on Google Maps and remember that a new ramen place opened two streets away a few weeks ago and decide to check it out and tick another restaurant off my list to find the tastiest and most authentic ramen in town. This scenario might not be unfamiliar to many and could be a regular part of people’s weekend plans. “Where do we want to go for dinner?”, “I’ve sent you a reel with a restaurant that I want to try, lets’ go there for dinner!”, kickstarts the search for a place that not only offers delicious food, but also an authentic insight into the country’s cuisine.
At Boxhagener Platz in particular, it is interesting to see how you can supposedly take a trip through East Asian countries such as Japan, Korea or China in just a few minutes by hopping from restaurant to restaurant. It is also interesting to note that fusion cuisine restaurants have sprung up in the area, not only serving East Asian cuisine, but also localizing the dishes.
Three questions arise from this observation: What is an authentic dining experience and what does it mean to localize one’s own cuisine? Further, does authenticity really matter? At Boxhagener Platz it is easy to feel as if you are on a food adventure, always looking for a new, exotic restaurant to try. The term food adventurer was shaped by the author Lisa Heldke and illustrates the human desire for novelty in culinary experiences. Food adventurers seek out new and exotic dishes. In her book “Exotic Appetites – Ruminations of a Food Adventurer”, published in 2003, Heldke describes that seeking out exotic cuisines is sometimes less about genuine cultural appreciation and more about accruing social status or „cultural capital.“ This quickly can become a slippery slope between cultural appropriation, commodifying ethnic foods and appreciating the cultural exchange through food. The notion of what is considered „authentic“ often aligns with the preconceptions of the food adventures rather than reflecting the lived reality of those within the culture. This can lead to a distorted view of what truly represents a cuisine and the appreciation for the adaptation of dishes, which also represent the willingness of one culture to be part of an exchange.
To find out how this quest for novelty affects different cuisines, let’s take a look at the menu at Shōdo Udon Lab located at Boxhagner Platz. The menu includes traditional versions of udon as well as starters such as “Miso Avocado” or “Takuan Cream Cheese”, which is a pickled radish covered in cream cheese. Neither of these items would be found in a local Japanese udon restaurant but seem to be a staple on the Shōdo menu. In the menu, the “Bacon Kamatama Udon” is described as „warm udon noodles, bukkake egg yolk sauce, butter, bacon tempura, shredded parmesan, pepper and spring onion“, which, judging by the ingredients, sounds like a rendition of the Italian dish carbonara. Udon and carbonara? Sounds like an interesting combination.
However, restaurants such as Menchirashi in Tokyo’s Shibuya have a version of Carbonara Udon on their menu as well, attracting locals and tourists alike through social media with their fusion of Italian and Japanese cuisine. At my visit at both Menchirashi and Shōdo Udon Lab, this twist on Japanese udon seemed to be an especially popular order with costumers. As food can be seen as a local, individual choice based on personal preferences, it in fact is much more than that. Food can also be considered as a global commodity used and shaped by different actors, depending on their intention. Based on Christle Lane’s (2011) definition, in our example of Carbonara Udon, glocalization refers to the adaptation of a cuisine to align with the tastes, preferences, cultural norms and ingredients of a particular region, in that case Western taste. This concept combines two aspects: Firstly, “globalization”, which entails the worldwide spread of resources and secondly, “localization”, which tailors said resources to the local markets. Not only new creations like Carbonara Udon are an example of glocalization, but let’s remember the side dishes. The adjustment of flavor or the substitution of ingredients are key features of glocalization as well. Another example is the spice level of Chinese dishes and regional and seasonal vegetables that are being incorporated into dishes, cutting costs and providing a staple supply for restaurants throughout the year.
So, does authenticity really matter? Rather than worrying about authenticity, as food adventurers we should be open to what these adaptations can tell us about cultural exchange through food and the livelihoods of the people behind the restaurants. So, as a challenge to all of us, next time on our journey as Food Adventurers, let’s try to look for clues and signs that tell us not only about the changes and adaptations that menus have gone through, but also about other social implications that might be connected to them.
Lane, Christel (2011): Culinary culture and globalization: an analysis of British and German Michelin-starred restaurants. In: The British Journal of Sociology 62 (4), S. 696–717. DOI: 10.1111/j.1468-4446.2011.01387.x.
Lidia Gaspara Salvador is a student in the Master program Japanese Studies at Freie Universität Berlin
Step into any trendy café in Berlin, and the menu is bound to have a splash of green. It’s not just avocado anymore—it’s matcha! This powdered green tea isn’t just a drink; it’s an icon of wellness, tradition, and modern innovation. Matcha has made its way from the tea rooms of Japan to your Instagram feed and all over the world. Whether it’s served as a latte, baked into cakes, or even shaken into cocktails, matcha is the darling of every trendy café’s menu. But what makes this vibrant powder so irresistible? Matcha, a finely ground powder derived from the leaves of the Camellia sinensis plant, traces its roots back to the Tang Dynasty in China (618-907 CE) (Tea & Coffee Trade Journal 2024). Thanks to Zen Buddhist monks, powdered tea found its way to Japan around the 12th century. One monk in particular, Eisai, brought tea seeds and the knowledge of making powdered tea from China to Japan. The Japanese prized matcha for its calming effects and ability to aid meditation and it became a popular staple (Mamiya 2024; MoyaMatcha.com 2021).
The Japanese tea ceremony sado, developed during the 15th and 16th centuries, transformed the preparation and consumption of matcha into an art form focused on mindfulness, simplicity, and the appreciation of beauty in everyday moments. Participants would whisk the fine green powder with hot water using a bamboo whisk, creating a frothy, vibrant green tea that embodies the essence of serenity and focus (MoyaMatcha.com, 2021). Matcha began its international ascent in the early 2000s, thanks to the rising interest in wellness and Japanese cuisine. Foodies and health enthusiasts were drawn to matcha’s rich umami flavor and its purported health benefits, such as high antioxidant content and natural energy boosts (Tea & Coffee Trade Journal 2024). The green tea is known for its earthy, pungent taste – opposers of the matcha movement often describing it as grassy – which comes from its high chlorophyll levels. The rise of social media further propelled matcha into the global spotlight. Its vibrant green color made it a photogenic eyecatcher on Instagram and TikTok, appearing in everything from pancakes to ice cream. Celebrities and influencers started endorsing matcha for its „clean“ energy and wellness properties, solidifying its status as a lifestyle symbol. Matcha’s merit also lies in its versatility; while traditional preparation involves whisking matcha with hot water, modern recipes have reinvented it for Western palates. Matcha can be served hot or cold, and the possibilities are endless: from its traditional form to bubble teas, cocktails or iced lattes, there are no limits of creation. And this doesn’t only apply for beverages; matcha has transformed into a popular ingredient for fusion desserts like tiramisu, pancakes, mousse, cakes, ice cream, confectionary, and matcha flavored candy. Its Fans are becoming even more adventurous by pushing boundaries, and using matcha in recipes like pasta and salad dressings.
The world is seeing green, and Berlin is no exception. Known for its culturally diverse and dynamic food scene, Berlin has fully embraced the matcha millennium: Whether you’re in a minimalist coffee shop in Charlottenburg or a hipster brunch spot in Prenzlauer Berg, matcha has won over the hearts and taste buds all over the city. Numerous cafés and eateries have introduced a range of matcha-infused products to cater to the health-conscious and aesthetically inclined. After reports from the Guardian, the obsession over the green powder further fueled by TikTok even sparked concerns about a possible global shortage of matcha (Thou 2024). Matcha’s global success isn’t just about taste—it’s about what it represents. In an era where wellness and sustainability are paramount, matcha checks all the boxes. Matcha is celebrated as a superfood for good reason. Unlike regular green tea, where leaves are steeped and discarded, matcha involves consuming the entire leaf. This process delivers higher concentrations of nutrients: Matcha is packed with antioxidants, particularly EGCG, which combat free radicals and promote cellular health (Tea & Coffee Trade Journal 2024). Green is quite literally the new black! Many coffee lovers have switched from their usual cup of Joe to the humble green tea powder. Matcha lattes in particular are one of the go-to alternatives for coffee addicts, offering a gentler caffeine kick without the jitters.
Matcha’s rise from its origins to a global phenomenon shows the extraordinary globalization of East Asian cuisine and reflects its unique ability to adapt while staying true to its roots. In Berlin, it’s not just a drink; it’s a cultural experience that bridges health, sustainability, and creativity. As the world continues to embrace matcha, its story serves as a reminder of how something so ancient can feel modern. If you are curious or need a new café recommendation in Berlin, places like Paper&Tea, Matchashop, Matchasome, and Tenzan Lab have a variety on matcha delights (Tip Berlin, 2021). Go try it out yourself! Matcha is the new MVP of beverages and, judging its prevalence compared to other trends (sorry, tumeric lattes!), it is here to stay. So, the next time you sip on a matcha latte in your favorite café, remember: you’re not just indulging in a trend. You’re partaking in a centuries-old tradition that’s found its way into the heart of contemporary culture.
With the rapid globalization since the 1980s, East Asian cultures were appreciated and consumed by many people around the world. Culinary culture is pivotal in cross-cultural encounters. By exploring the stories behind a Chinese restaurant in Berlin, this post aims to reveal how culinary culture plays a role in maintaining cultural identity and enhance the prosperity of the local community. We draw on immersive experience and oral history to reflect on Berlin’s contemporary multiculturalism. Chen’s Wok in Berlin provides a variety of Chinese cuisines for residents nearby in Charlottenburg. It’s popular among many students who study at the Technical University of Berlin due to its vicinity to this university. Of course, it also attracts many clients who work in the Deutsch Bank building across the street from the restaurant. The restaurant is well-renovated with a hybrid style of modern and Chinese elements and uses purple as the main color of chair covers to demonstrate a sense of warmth and hospitality. To get firsthand experience and excavate stories behind it, we visited the restaurant several times.
There are various specialties on the menu, mainly from Sichuan, Jiangzhe and Guangdong regions like Dim Sum, homemade noodles, Gong-Bao chicken, Yu Xiang-style pork, fish in hot chili oil. The menu indicates that all meals are served with rice freshly prepared and without the use of glutamate (MSG). We ordered beef in hot chili oil (less spicy and without garlic) and sweet-sour fried pork. There were pork trotters as a complimentary appetizer. The beef in hot chili oil was quite good, with the stove and direct flame, in order to keep food warmer and nicer for a longer time. Additionally, the way this dish was served on a stove made us feel warm even before having a bite, embodying the freshness and cleanliness of the food itself. This dish contained some beef, cabbages, chili peppers, green onions, coriander, Sichuan peppercorn, Chinese star anise and many other seasonings. I was surprised that with that much oil and seasonings, the beef didn’t taste heavy at all; rather, it was fresh, tender, and also good match with rice.
Another dish we had was sweet-sour-fried pork, with carrot slices and leafy greens for a fresh touch. It resembled dishes from a Cantonese tea house or Sichuan restaurant, thanks to the decorations. It tasted juicy and crunchy at the beginning, and the longer it stayed, the less crunchy it would be. I think this one had made great balance of the sour and sweet tastes, and the chefs chose the thinner portion of the pork, making it a light-juicy taste.
Some of the ingredients, for example, coriander, are not so common in Berlin. We asked the owner about their sources, and she told us they were imported from Sichuan. Even without knowing the full details of the supply chain, we could easily sense the authenticity of the food. This familiarity evoked memories of our homeland, bringing back the tangible, everyday life of that time.
We also engaged in a conversation with the female owner spontaneously. According to our conversation with the restaurant owner, it is managed by her and her husband, and sometimes their daughter, son-in-law, son, and daughter-in-law come and help with this family business. They take orders and pack leftover food. A chef and his assistant work in the kitchen with the help of a dishwasher. Before opening hours, generally, the female owner and her husband prepare ingredients with other staff members. Because all of them are Chinese, they communicate with each other in Chinese specifically in their Wenzhou dialect, but the owner couple speaks perfect German as well, so it’s also possible for them to chat in German. With Chinese consumers the owners speak Mandarin, otherwise, they talk in German.
Chen’s family migrated to Germany in April 1989, and Berlin wasn’t their first landing point. Actually, they worked in other cities for several months and before the reunification of East and West Berlin, they replanted to this city. During their career as clerks in Berlin, there were not many Chinese restaurants and they decided to open one after retirement to share food with some of their friends. Gladly, they achieved and made their dream a big benefit to all their neighbors and Chinese students who support their business as well. Chen’s family is full of entrepreneurial spirit. Zhejiang province cultivates lots of successful businessmen and “exports” lots of small businessmen to Europe. These people settle in the European continent and promote mutual commercial cooperation and cultural exchange. Though Chen’s family is from Zhejiang, they sell Sichuan cuisine mainly for its popularity all over the world as a trend, and the chef of Chen’s Wok was also trained by a Sichuan culinary master before.
We see Chen’s Wok as a case study to explore how migrants establish their daily lives by running a restaurant in a foreign country. This globalization phenomenon shows that the ingredients, culinary techniques, and dining expectations in this restaurant are shaped by transnational flows of people and cultural influences. In this restaurant, there is always something in between the “homeland” and the customers’ desire for exotic experiences. While Chinese customers can experience the familiarity through the taste of the food, the presence of familiar languages, and the old-style decorations—all of which contribute to its authenticity; non-Chinese consumers can satisfy their appetite for the exotic.
Ying Wang and Dai Yu are students in the Master program Global East Asia at Freie Universität Berlin.
Chinese cuisine has long been a key part of the global food scene. However, regional specialties are now gaining wider recognition thanks to social media and culinary globalization. One such dish is Malatang (麻辣烫 málàtàng), a famous street food from Sichuan. Hugely popular in China, where it’s found in nearly every city, Malatang is now making its way internationally and marking its presence abroad. Malatang is a customizable, one-person hotpot dish originating from Sichuan. „麻辣“ (málà) refers to the numbing spice of Sichuan peppercorns and chili, while “ 烫 “ (tàng) refers to something that is scalding hot or boiled, reflecting the dish’s method of preparation. Diners select their own ingredients—ranging from fresh vegetables to meats, tofu, and noodles—which are cooked in a rich, flavorful broth and served hot.
We decided to visit one of the spots in Berlin for Sichuan-style Malatang: Zhangliang Malatang. It is one of the biggest Malatang chains in China, that has been rapidly expanding and recently reached Germany. This franchise not only perfectly represents the globalization of Chinese cuisine, but is also an example of the adaptability of some Chinese dishes to an international environment. Originally founded in 2008 in Harbin, China, Zhangliang Malatang took the traditional Sichuan street food and adapted it to suit the tastes in northern China. The brand has opened nearly 100 brand stores in 53 cities in 19 countries including Japan, the United States, Australia, Canada, Singapore, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, South Korea and recently Germany. Today, with over 6,000 locations worldwide, Zhangliang Malatang shares its flavors with diners across the globe. (Zhangliang Malatang 2025). Could it be because more people around the world have shown interest or familiarity with Chinese cuisine? Or is there something else that successfully attracts so much attention and has gained this brand so much popularity?
In the midst of Berlin’s cold and dark winter days, having a spicy Sichuan style soup can bring back the comfort and coziness to fight the winter days off. Once you go looking for a Sichuan-style Malatang place in Berlin, Zhangliang Malatang immediately catches your sight with its vibrant and playful orange colour. Upon entering Zhangliang MalaTang on Friedrichstrasse 217, the first thing that catches your attention is the huge refrigerated wall with all kinds of food. The concept of the restaurant is completely based on the customer experience of creating your own malatang. The first step is taking your own bowl and filling it with the malatang ingredients upon your own preference. Among the vast variety of ingredients, there are sections with cooked and uncooked meat, seafood, eggs, next to them, there are vegetables of all kinds, various mushrooms and seaweed. At Zhangliang MalaTang, most of the food is imported from China, difficult and pricey as it may be, with the exception of vegetables, which are bought from local supermarkets and cooked food, such as meat or tofu, which have been prepared at the restaurant.
Next, you can pick the kind of noodles you prefer, as they range from ramen, udon, spinach to purple sweet potato noodles. At last, you bring your bowl to the counter, you pick your broth and pay for the mala tang.The variety of 5 soup bases (broths) consists of a classic one, spicy mix, tom yam gong, mushroom and tomato. While the tom yam, mushroom and tomato are vegetarian broths, the rest are made with beef broths. Indeed, the classic soup base is the most preferred by the customers and the most authentic, close to Sichuan style malatang, as we have been told. In addition, they have recently begun to offer the stir-fried spicy pot, which if you pick, will be the stir-fried version of the ingredients of your choice. After the malatang is ready, you have all the freedom to make your own sauce in a small saucer with ingredients of your choice and have it with your malatang. There is not only a huge selection of sauces, from sesame sauce, minced garlic, bean curd, oyster sauce, coriander and many more, but they also get refilled very often!
As most of the customers come around lunch time, straight from their offices, those times are very lively, whereas the evenings at the Zhangliang MalaTang are very serene and a perfect time to spend time with family and friends! Could a large, globalized brand truly deliver the warmth and comfort we were craving during the gloomy season? It turned out that this little food trip was a perfect hit. The rich, velvety broth, the comforting warmth of the spices, and the laid-back atmosphere made for exactly the cozy escape we had been looking for. A small but satisfying indulgence—just what we needed to shake off the winter gloom. That is why our advice for cold, lonely, dark winter days is to always have a good Sichuan malatang with people you love!
While the first official diplomatic relations between Japan and Germany date back to 1861, today’s generation of Japanese and Germans are more deeply connected than ever before through tourism, exchange programs, video games, anime or even the sushi restaurant around the corner. Over 9,000 km away from his home in northern Japan – Masaharu came to Berlin to study in Germany. He may be far from home, like many people, but the memories of Japanese home cooking are still close to him – they make him nostalgic. In the following interview, we record his fight against homesickness and his culinary journey.
Nils: Since you intend to stay here in Germany for a couple of years – how did you prepare yourself? Did you experience any inconveniences so far?
Masaharu: Well, the preparations were difficult for me: finding accommodation, enrolling at university and so on. And because of the weight restrictions for my luggage on the plane, I couldn’t bring any Japanese food to Germany – since I can’t buy many Japanese items here, my life became unexpectedly difficult.
Nils: How about food? Can you share any experiences or difficulties you encountered so far? Masaharu: Both countries have totally different food cultures. Good examples are rice and bread: While Japanese people prefer eating rice, German people usually eat bread. I do like German bread, but I really miss Japanese rice! Globalisation made it easier to buy foreign products in other countries, however, these items are still expensive and usually only available in big cities. In Berlin, I have relatively easy access to Asian ingredients, but in Trier, where I lived six years ago, Japanese rice is an unattainable luxury for poor students like me. That’s why I usually eat Milchreis (a type of round grain rice) instead of Japanese rice. But I feel uncomfortable because its taste is far from what I would eat every day in Japan. This is something that worries me at the moment.
Nils: Oh, you’ve experience living in multiple places within Germany! You must have encountered some differences then?
Masaharu: Yes. In my opinion, people in Berlin eat much more fish than those in Trier. I guess it is because Berlin is closer to the sea, and many fishing companies can bring fresh ingredients to the city. Besides that, there are a lot of people from diverse backgrounds in Berlin. So, I can enjoy roaming around the city and find international dishes from East Asia, Turkey or Africa! On the other hand, I also love trying local dishes. Both cities are attractive!
Nils: You might be getting a bit nostalgic about your home. Is there something that you miss from Japan?
Masaharu: Yeah, I really miss Japan. Many people would imagine sushi and ramen when they are asked “What is Japanese food.” I can eat those famous Japanese dishes in Berlin, even though they are expensive here. But I am actually craving homemade Japanese food, such as nikujaga (simmered meat and potatoes) and saba no miso-ni (mackerel simmered in miso)! I can buy them everywhere in Japan, but here, their absence makes me feel homesick.
Nils: How do you adapt to this feeling here in Germany? I assume the lack of konbini (convenient stores) is not that easy to manage?
Masaharu: Fortunately, I love cooking Japanese food, so I always cook at home. Although I can’t buy all the Japanese products in Berlin, it is possible to enjoy some dishes even with the limited number of ingredients or the ‘hard’ German water. On the other hand, when seeking ‘authenticity’ in a restaurant, I need to give up having a great meal or – otherwise – pay a lot. Personally, I don’t use konbini so much since the price of the products has recently gone up. Instead, I used to visit affordable drugstores like Tsuruha to buy frozen food.
Nils: I see. So, you cook for yourself a lot?
Masaharu: I have to admit, the taste of German food is stronger than the Japanese. My family cares about health – and I am the same. So, when I cook meals for myself, I always check out the nutrition beforehand and aim to maintain my health through food.
Nils: Finally, I’d like to ask if you have any recommendations for people going abroad on how to adjust to their new life? Any sure-fire strategies?
Masaharu: Different countries have different food cultures! I believe, we need to respect our counterparts first. Though, at the same time, I understand that life abroad is quite tough to get accustomed to. I had that experience. But if you cook for yourself, such obstacles may disappear. Generally speaking, you are now able to buy the ingredients of your culture easily compared to the past. Thank you, globalisation! But behold! Before you travel abroad, I strongly recommend you practise cooking in advance!
Food is a crucial factor in creating an identity and creating a home. The interview with Masaharu shows not only how the globalization of food offers new opportunities to engage with different cultures, but also some difficulties: Prices are different, specialty supermarkets are not accessible in small towns and “authenticity” varies. Masaharu battles homesickness and often cooks for himself as he misses everyday Japanese cuisine. His experiences show that although the world is now (more) global, (re)inventing a home by (re)creating beloved food is not always easy...
Masaharu Goto and Nils Ohnesorge are students in the Master program Global East Asia at Freie Universität Berlin.
On a Tuesday evening in November, the three of us decided to cook three different dishes selected from the internet to fulfill one of our assignments for the class “Globalization of East Asian Cuisines”. First, we watched various videos on TikTok and Instagram by looking up the hashtags #chineserecipes, #koreanrecipe, #japaneserecipe, and we scrolled until we found three vegetarian recipes that looked delicious and seemed like small dishes. For the Japanese recipe, we decided to cook a lotus pancake and a rice cake cheese skewer was the winning Korean dish. We found both recipes on TikTok. In addition, we selected a Chinese tofu dish from Instagram. The recipes were easy to follow as the videos we selected included the instructions in the description of the post or in the video itself. All recipes were described by the authors as quick and easy to prepare with few ingredients.
The recipe for the lotus pancake was posted by @ayaka_hakko on TikTok. It is a Japanese account and all the posts seem to be related to Japanese food. The account is very popular with more than 30k followers. The comments under the posts are all in Japanese and most praise how easy and good the dish looks. The recipe for the rice cake skewer was posted by @bamboooyah on TikTok. The account mainly features Korean food, both home-cooked and restaurant dishes, and has around 225k followers. The comments are mostly in English and focus on either asking about the sauce used to coat the skewers or how delicious and crispy they look. The tofu recipe was posted on Instagram by SBS Food, a 24/7 food channel for the Australian public that focuses on simple, authentic and everyday food inspiration from different cultures. The account has 328k followers on Instagram. The comments under the posts are all in English and sometimes only contain emojis. Some comments either tag people or say that it looks delicious.
Our mission was to try and see if it was possible to replicate these authentic recipes in Berlin. And the outcome was very positive since we were able to find all of the ingredients at either a supermarket or an Asian grocery store. But before we went to any stores, we checked what we already had at home. In the end, we only had to get some onions, garlic, cheese, sesame and scallions from the supermarket, and Szechuan peppercorns, gochujang, tofu, lotus root and rice cakes from the Asian grocery store. We were able to find all the ingredients, but encountered some problems with the lotus root. Initially, we wanted to buy fresh lotus root, but had to buy some pre-peeled, packaged lotus root instead. Our total bill for the food was 30€, including some additional costs for drinks.
The next step was to prepare all the ingredients and cook them. Two people prepared the ingredients by cutting the lotus root, peeling and slicing the garlic, dicing the cheese and defrosting the rice cakes, while one person weighed the ingredients such as sesame seeds or measured out all the liquid ingredients. All three dishes required some cooking, so we started by preparing the three sauces for the Chinese tofu dish. For the sesame sauce, we had to roast sesame seeds, heat some neutral oil for the chili oil and sauté garlic with soy sauce and sugar for the garlic jam. Once we had drained the tofu and prepared the three types of sauce, we were able to plate this first dish. The second dish we prepared was the lotus pancakes. The freshly cut lotus root was tossed in a mixture of garlic, onions and potato starch and seasoned with a little salt and pepper. After heating some oil in a pan, half of this mixture was added to the pan in slices and topped with some cheese. The second half of the lotus root was then carefully placed on top, and once the cheese had melted the two layers together, we flipped the pancake, which was surprisingly more difficult than it sounds. We sprinkled the pancake with the remaining cheese and fried it for a few more minutes until we were ready to plate this dish as well. For our final dish, the Korean cheese and rice cake skewers, we took the defrosted rice cakes and cheese, which we had cut into similar sized pieces, and skewered them onto metal skewers, also known as roulade pins. These skewers were then placed in a medium-hot pan and turned over once the cheese was crispy. Before serving, we coated the fried skewers with a spicy chili ketchup sauce and garnished them with some leftover roasted sesame seeds.
In general, cooking Asian dishes is a great way to connect with Asian culture, overcome cultural differences and learn more about each other. Berlin as a multicultural city encourages people to engage with each other in a variety of ways. For this experiment, we found that cooking East Asian dishes here in Berlin is a great way to engage with other cultures in a respectful way. Gathering the ingredients was relatively simple and straightforward, and thanks to the detailed descriptions on social media, it was also easy to follow the cooking instructions. With globalization affecting all areas of our daily lives, it is only natural to look into the globalization of East Asian food and our consumption of East Asian products and lifestyles. Social media makes this very easy. For those interested, we have linked the original recipe videos so you can try for yourself how easy it is to cook authentic East Asian dishes in your hometown. Have fun cooking!
Authenticity in food is a complex and often debated concept, rooted in the idea of preserving the cultural, historical and regional identity of a dish. But is it about strict adherence to traditional recipes, the use of locally sourced ingredients or the spirit and intention behind the cooking? When transplanted into the context of food globalization, authenticity becomes a fluid concept, shaped by local tastes, the availability of ingredient and cultural interactions. Japanese food producers in Berlin, for instance, experience authenticity differently – some feel inauthentic when adapting dishes to local demands for more vegetarian and vegan options, while other embrace fusion as an authentic expression of their craft. Authenticity in food, or rather the notion of it, turns out to be subjective because it is shaped by the personal and professional backgrounds of those involved in its creation, from chefs to consumers (Reiher 2023).
But what if you’ve experienced a certain cuisine in so many different ways that you’re no longer sure what “authentic” is supposed to taste like? This was exactly my case with Chinese food. My first encounters with it took place in Bulgaria, where I grew up. As a child, I had no reason to question the deep-fried chicken drenched in sweet and sour sauce – it was delicious and that was all that mattered. Years later, however, I found myself in Yokohama’s Chinatown with a group of Chinese friends, and my idea of Chinese food was turned upside down. The menu looked nothing like what I had known, and when the food arrived, I was even more surprised – so many dishes were spicy! I casually mentioned that I had never thought of Chinese food as particularly spicy. The response I got back from my friends was something in the lines of: “This? This is nothing! The real thing is way spicier. This is not very authentic Chinese food. They tone it down for Japan.” Since that day, I have been wondering how spicy “authentic” Chinese food is. Back in Berlin, armed with curiosity, a big appetite, a fondness of spice and a healthy dose of skepticism, I took on a mission to find out.
Keeping the ambiguous nature of authenticity in mind, I set on a mission to find some Chinese food that would satisfy my craving for the spicy kick that Chinese food can give. Hi! Chili 海椒(Sichuan Tapas Bistro), located in Prenzlauer Berg, Berlin, opened its doors in late 2024 and has since garnered a 4.9-star rating on Google Maps with glowing reviews in multiple languages. The restaurant is co-owned by two women coming from Chongqing and Chengdu, two of China’s spice capitals, and it prides itself on bringing the bold flavors of the owners’ hometowns to customers in Berlin. The online reviews painted a picture of near-universal acclaim: “rich in flavor”, “nice seasoning”, “delicious” and even praise the food in Chinese (which is always a good sign). But could all this praise withstand the scrutiny of my own expectations?
I arrived at the small restaurant in the early afternoon on a windy January day with a friend. Scanning the menu, we discovered that this place offers a variety of Sichuan dishes, adorned with a chili symbol indicating their spice level. The three-tiered system (one, two or three chilis) promised varying degrees of spiciness. Being a little cautious, my friend and I ordered the Peas and Pork Mince Noodles (one chili) and paired it with Crispy Pork Bites that came with the homemade chili powder dip from the tapas section. The food looked promising. The noodles glistened in a sauce that hinted at Sichuan’s signature umami-laden spice mix and the pork bites were fried to a tantalizing crisp. But how spicy was it?
Before ordering, we had asked the waitress (who turned out to be one of the owners) whether their spice levels were calibrated for German customers or stayed true to Chinese standards. She smiled and admitted that they didn’t adjust it to suit local taste. True to her word, the noodles had a pleasant, slow-building heat with a touch of Sichuan peppercorn’s signature numbing effect. It wasn’t overwhelmingly fiery, but it was far from the watered-down, almost non-existent spice levels often found in Westernized Chinese restaurants. The pork bites’ crispy exterior and seasoning, combined with the rich-in-flavor chili powder dip, complemented the noodles perfectly, creating a well-rounded dining experience. The owner later mentioned that many of their spices were imported directly from China to maintain the authentic flavor – a detail that showed in every bite.
In summary, it can be said that Hi! Chili 海椒 succeeds in offering a piece of Sichuan and Chongqing in Berlin. Those who are afraid of being overwhelmed by the spiciness will find the chili scale a helpful guide. For lovers of spice, there is enough heat to keep things interesting without scorching the taste buds. Ultimately, “authenticity” and “spiciness” are two subjective concepts and are perceived differently by, for example, a homesick expat looking for a piece of home, a chef interpreting tradition through a contemporary lens, or a curious diner discovering flavors for the first time. The judgment of “authenticity” and “spiciness” often reflects not so much the food itself, but the experiences and expectations of those who eat it. Ultimately, I can only say that the food I ate at Hi! Chili 海椒 did not disappoint me. As for the question of how spicy “authentic” Chinese food in Berlin is, I’d rather leave that judgment up to you.
References:
Reiher, C., 2023. Negotiating authenticity: Berlin’s Japanese food producers and the vegan/vegetarian consumer. Food, Culture & Society 26(5): 1056-1071.
Daniel Ivanov is a student in the Master program Global East Asia at Freie Universität Berlin.
