by Ying Wang and Dai Yu

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.

by Aspasia Porozhanova and Julia Mąkosa

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!

Reference:

Zhangliang Malatang (2025):  About brand, https://m.zlmlt.com/wapen/about.php

Aspasia Porozhanova and Julia Mąkosa are students in the Master program Global East Asia at Freie Universität Berlin.

by Masaharu Goto and Nils Ohnesorge

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.

by Karo, Myrna and Diana

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!

References:

Japanese Lotus pancake: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNe3WE7SL/

Korean Cheese-Ricecake skewers: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNe37d8XD/

Chinese three sauce tofu: https://www.instagram.com/tv/CiJWoObJxef/?igsh=dDhhaW90cjdhcnly

Karo, Myrna and Diana are students in the Master program Global East Asia at Freie Universität Berlin.

by Daniel Ivanov

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.

by Lisa Hetterling

Crack, snap, and crunch. A chef knife loudly cuts through a green head of Napa cabbage without hesitation. Viewers are thrown straight into the action; this is how many of Logan’s TikTok videos start. On a platform where creators have mere seconds to capture the viewers’ attention, this startling tactic has proven to be an effective signature. For anyone like me, who has ever looked for Korean food inspiration in English, encountering one of Logan’s videos seems almost inevitable. Logan Moffitt, known as @logagm on TikTok, @logansfewd on Instagram, and @logaagm on YouTube, has amassed over ten million followers across platforms. With his obsession for cucumbers and many viral recipes to match, he has earned quirky nicknames like “the most hydrated person on TikTok” and “the cucumber guy” (Chesanek 2024; Santos 2024). However, by a more specific audience and commenters, he’s affectionately called names like “Daehan Logan.” This clever play on words combines his name with Daehan Minguk, the Korean term for South Korea. Such nicknames did not come by him lightly. According to interviews, the 24-year-old from Canada started cooking at around 14, motivated by demanding swim practices and a craving for food not typically found on a traditional Canadian menu (Ganz 2024). Sometimes using recipes, sometimes store-bought, Logan seamlessly incorporated Korean staples into his daily meals over time. With skill and dedication, he prepares traditional Korean dishes like kimchi jjigae (a spicy chili and meat stew), mul–naengmyeon (refreshing, ice-cold buckwheat noodle soup), and many more. While he explores cuisines from other cultures as well, Korean dishes take centre stage in most of his videos.

Logan’s videos are not just about cooking, they’re a crash course in culinary confidence, especially for a social media content creator. By tackling spice levels that leave his commenters nervously sweating or by casually fermenting his own kimchi, he turns unfamiliar techniques and dishes into something more approachable and intriguing. From breaking down fermentation stages to sharing tips on using various types of kimchi in the right dishes, his content, as his many Korean comments attest, combines “insider” expertise with an effortless charm. His nonchalant aura and straightforward, unexaggerated approach captivate both Western and Korean audiences. His laid-back demeanour and unbothered reactions are especially notable when addressing critiques of his recipes, the “exotic” ingredients he uses, or cultural differences like him slurping noodles in certain dishes. While slurping might be considered impolite in many Western cultures, in Korea, it’s simply a non-issue. He first gained attention for his homemade kimchi, and a refreshing cucumber kimchi salad, followed more recently by a California roll-inspired cucumber salad. The latter even landed him an interview with The New York Times, where he cited Maangchi, a prominent figure among Korean food content creators, as his biggest inspiration (Kim 2024). His recipes, whether traditionally Korean or adapted to his personal taste, consistently incorporate key elements of Korean and East Asian cuisine, such as sesame oil and seeds, soy sauce, aekjeot (fish sauce), ssal-sikcho (rice wine vinegar), gochujang (red pepper paste), and often a generous sprinkle of MSG.

One of Logan’s catchphrases, “MSG, Obviously,” has sparked both amusement and debate (Ganz 2024; Santos 2024). Monosodium glutamate, commonly known under the brand name “Miwon” in Korea, is a staple in many Asian cuisines. The flavour enhancer brings out umami, the savoury flavour that defines dishes like tteokbokki (spicy rice cakes), ramyeon (instant noodles, and thickens countless Korean soups and stews. While many viewers praised his unapologetic use of MSG, others reacted with disdain or confusion, underscoring lingering stereotypes and misinformation about Asian cooking. Like this, Logan inspires broader conversations about cultural perceptions of food. By normalizing MSG and highlighting its culinary value, he challenges prejudices and encourages audiences to appreciate the nuances of Korean cuisine. Logan’s content goes beyond recipes. His frequent trips to Korea, documented in travel vlog-style videos, showcase the cultural and social connections behind Korean food. From eel fishing on the coast to visiting cucumber and salt farms, sharing drinks over samgyeopsal (Korean pork BBQ), his activities highlight the labour, skill, and relationships involved in food production and consumption. These experiences counter the abstraction often seen with East Asian food on social media. Ingredients like live octopus or gopchang (grilled intestines), are frequently presented as shocking or extreme, catering to spectacle rather than understanding. Especially spicy foods are framed as exotic novelty or dare-worthy rather than appreciated for their cultural significance. By engaging with these ingredients and dishes authentically, he repositions them as part of a larger narrative, encouraging audiences to move beyond surface-level reactions and trends.

Logan’s approach also exemplifies the concept of “Glocalization,” coined by sociologist Roland Robertson. Glocalization refers to combination of global and local elements to create something completely new that resonates with diverse audiences (Robertson 1992). Logan’s recipes, like his kimchi margarita, kimchi jam, and blue cheese jjigae, are creative adaptations of Korean staples with Western influences. While some of his more adventurous experiments provoke mixed reactions, they also demonstrate how globalization can transform food into a shared cultural experience that transcends national borders.

References:

Chesanek, Carissa. “TikTok’s Viral ‘Cucumber Guy’ Shares 5 Recipes Featuring His Favorite Vegetable.” RealSimple, 26 Aug, 2024. https://www.realsimple.com/ways-to-eat-cucumber-logan-moffitt-tiktok-8695826.

Ganz, Stephanie. “How TikTok’s ‘Cucumber Guy’ Created the Summer’s Best Recipe.” AllRecipes, Aug 22, 2024. https://www.allrecipes.com/tiktok-cucumber-guy-logan-moffitt-interview-8699259.

Kim, Eric. “Ask TikTok’s ‘Cucumber Boy’ How to Prepare a Cucumber.” The New York Times, Aug 15, 2024. https://www.nytimes.com/2024/08/14/dining/tiktok-cucumber-guy-logan-moffitt.html.

Robertson, Roland. “Globalization: Social Theory and Global Culture.” Sage Publications, 1992. Santos, Claudia. “Millions Of People Are Eating An Entire Cucumber In This Viral TikTok Trend, So I Tried It To Find Out If It’s Worth The Hype.” BuzzFeed, Sep 9, 2024. https://www.buzzfeed.com/claudiasantos/cucumber-salad-tiktok-recipe.

Lisa Hetterling is a student in the Master program Global East Asia at Freie Universität Berlin.

by Cornelia Reiher

This blog focuses on Berlin’s Japanese foodscape, but Germany’s capital has much more to offer when it comes to East Asian cuisine. On the occasion of a course on the Globalization of East Asian Cuisines I taught in the newly established Master’s Program Global East Asia during the winter semester 2024/25, over the next few weeks, I will be sharing posts written by participants in this course. These posts will deal with Korean, Chinese or Japanese restaurants in Berlin and with recipes that the students have found on social media and have tried to recreate. In their contributions, students will present their experiences of searching for ingredients in Asian supermarkets or discuss the presentation of East Asian cuisine on social media such as YouTube or Instagram. They will present individual influencers or dishes that have gone viral. Enjoy these blog posts that go beyond Japanese cuisine in Berlin to offer a broader view of East Asian food culture through the perspectives of students from various backgrounds. Using Berlin as an example, these contributions illustrate how migration, global supply chains, and the globalization of East Asian cuisines are interconnected.

Paul B.

Berlin ist eine Stadt voller Vielfalt und bietet zahllose Einkaufsmöglichkeiten. Es gibt hier für jeden Geschmack und Geldbeutel Nahrungsmittel aus aller Welt. Ich wollte wissen: Welche japanischen Lebensmittel kann man in Berlin kaufen? Ist es einfach, japanische Spezialitäten in Berlin zu finden? Wie preiswert sind diese? Erfordert es einen höheren Aufwand und lange Fahrten, wenn man japanische Lebensmittel erwerben möchte? Um das herauszufinden, habe ich mich auf dem Kurfürstendamm in verschiedenen Läden, Malls und Kaufhäusern umgesehen. Ich besuchte das KaDeWe, das Chaya im Bikini und Muji.

Meine Suche begann in der sechsten Etage des KaDeWe, in der es Bars, Restaurants, kleinere Essensstände und eine Feinkostabteilung gibt. Dort werden Fisch, Obst, Gemüse, Wein, Süßigkeiten, Delikatessen, Kaffee und Tee angeboten. Besonders auffällig war, dass es viele Tees aus Asien gab. Vor allem fand ich japanischen Tee, wie zum Beispiel verschiedene Sorten Matcha oder Sakura Tee. Es gab auch ein Matcha Starter Kit, in dem alle nötigen Utensilien für die Herstellung von Matcha enthalten sind. Ein separater Stand bot eine große Menge an Sakura Tee an. Dies unterstrich, wie beliebt asiatische und vor allem japanische Tees in Deutschland sind. Neben Tees gab es an der Fischtheke des KaDeWe auch japanischen Fisch und nach kurzem Suchen fand ich auch Bonito Flocken. Die Preise im KaDeWe waren allerdings sehr hoch. Nicht jeder Kunde kann oder möchte 30 Euro für 30 Gramm Shinto Matcha oder 42 Euro für 30 Gramm Konomi Do Tee ausgeben. Mit dieser Erkenntnis beendete ich meinen Besuch im KaDeWe und machte mich zum nächsten Ziel auf, auch in der Hoffnung, etwas preisgünstigere japanische Lebensmittel zu finden.

Mein nächstes Ziel war das Chaya im Bikini, welches eine breite Auswahl an Lebensmitteln aus Japan anbietet. Der Laden verkauft vor allem Tee, Snacks, Alkohol, Süßigkeiten sowie alkoholfreie Getränke. Außerdem werden auch Porzellan und andere Einrichtungsgegenstände angeboten. Der Laden ist auf japanische Lebensmittel und Produkte spezialisiert. Das spiegelt sich auch im Namen des Geschäfts wider: „Chaya: Dein Japanladen“. Im Laden herrscht eine ruhige, angenehme und entspannte Atmosphäre. Wenn man auf dem Kurfürstendamm auf der Suche nach japanischen Lebensmitteln und vielleicht nach Geschirr ist, dann lohnt es sich auf jeden Fall, auch im Chaya im Bikini vorbeizuschauen. Die Preise sind dort um günstiger als im KaDeWe und somit kann man dort preiswerter japanische Artikel einkaufen. Ich habe dorayaki, japanische Pfannkuchen mit einer Füllung aus roten Bohnen, gekauft.

Meine letzte Station war Muji. Ich dachte eigentlich, dass Muji vor allem Möbel und Kleidung verkauft, da das Unternehmen vor allem dafür in Deutschland bekannt geworden ist. Ich wusste also, dass Muji ein breites Sortiment von Artikeln anbietet, aber dass dort auch Lebensmittel verkauft werden, war mir noch nicht bekannt. Der Muji Store am Kurfürstendamm ist der Berliner Flagship Store. Daher ist er sehr groß und meine Erwartungen waren entsprechend hoch. Im zweiten Stock wurde ich fündig. Dort gab es allerlei Lebensmittel wie Süßigkeiten, Snacks, Getränke aber auch Fertiggerichte wie zum Beispiel Butter Chicken Curry oder Reissuppen. Die Preise für Lebensmittel bewegten sich hier zwischen zwei und fünf Euro. Interessanterweise gab es nicht nur japanische Lebensmittel wie Miso Suppe, sondern auch indische Gerichte wie Dal. Muji kann aber natürlich auch für den Einkauf anderer Produkte wie Kleidung, Möbeln, Schreibwaren und Beauty-Artikeln genutzt werden.

Abschließend kann man sagen, dass man auf dem Kurfürstendamm in kurzer Entfernung mehrere Möglichkeiten hat, japanische Lebensmittel und generell japanische Artikel zu erwerben. Allerdings spezialisieren sich nicht alle Geschäfte ausschließlich auf Lebensmittel, sondern bieten auch andere Produkte wie Interieur und Kleidung an. Zudem gibt es auf dem Kurfürstendamm auch noch weitere Läden, die japanische Produkte im Angebot haben. Darüber hinaus findet man ganz Berlin Asiamärkte, die ebenfalls japanische Lebensmittel im Sortiment haben und auch viele deutsche Supermärkte führen mittlerweile Sojasoße und Matcha.

Paul B. ist Schülerpraktikant am Institut für Japanologie an der Freien Universität Berlin.

by Jennifer Li and Maxime Barbasetti

As part of our methods course, we practiced participant observation by visiting the Japanese cafeteria ‘Shokudō’ at Freie Universität Berlin. In order to find out how Japanese is represented in the cafeteria, we wanted to focus our observation on the cafeteria’s interior design and the food on offer. We began our observation at the food counter. Slowly but surely, the queue at the food counter filled up, as it was lunchtime. Normally, Shokudō serves mainly vegetarian and vegan dishes, but the day we were there, they happened to have a meat ‘special’, so one of us chose spare ribs with roasted Japanese sweet potatoes and coleslaw with coriander.

Although this dish was delicious, it would not generally be described as an ‘authentic’ Japanese dish, and this was also true of the other dishes on offer. However, what all the dishes on the menu had in common was that they always included Japanese ingredients such as udon, miso or, in this case, Japanese sweet potatoes, or that the dish was inspired by Japanese classics such as Japanese curry or katsudon. Another example of this was the salad bar, which used many ingredients from Japanese and East Asian cuisine such as miso, kimchi, shiitake mushrooms, umeboshi, yuzu, sesame or seaweed in its seasonings, dressings or as garnishes. This also applies to the desserts, which are based on European recipes such as panna cotta, but have a Japanese touch. Another aspect that struck us about the dishes was that, although minimalist, they were presented or garnished in a visually appealing way. The cafeteria also features a kiosk selling Japanese treats like mochi, matcha and yuzu cheesecake which is very popular in Japan but also overseas. In summary, while there are Japanese influences in the choice of ingredients, the way of preparation as well as the dishes, the menu could be best described as Japanese-Asian-European fusion cuisine.

On our way to the tatami room, which is located at the back of the cafeteria, we passed the larger dining room. Here, sudare (Japanese wooden blinds), wooden windows and lanterns, created a very cosy atmosphere with Japanese flair. The use of wood in interior design continues throughout Shokudō. In the passage that connects the main dining area with a smaller dining area and the tatami room, there are many wooden counters and seating areas. While blue is the dominant color in the main dining room, the passageway connecting the two dining rooms is painted red and, with its red pillars and lacquered stools, is reminiscent of Japanese izakaya or ramen stalls.

The element that we think is most clearly associated with Japan is the painting of the sun rising behind Mount Fuji, which is hard to miss as you enter the cafeteria. Behind it is a tatami-style room that combines several elements of Japanese interior design. Although the tatami room does not have real tatami mats, the low tables and seat cushions give the impression of entering a traditional Japanese tea room. Another element is the step that leads to the tatami room itself, as it is reminiscent of a Japanese entrance area, where you place your shoes in the entrance area before entering the living room. Other decorative elements include imitation plants reminiscent of Japanese reeds, koi fish paintings on the wall and, again, wooden lanterns.

However, our observation did not go unnoticed and presented us with an unexpected opportunity: While we were taking notes in the cafeteria, Esko Niggemann, responsible for Shokudō’s concept, approached us and asked what we were doing. After explaining, he offered to do an interview with us the next day. We couldn’t pass up the opportunity, so we accepted immediately. When we arrived at 9.30am the next day, we were greeted by an eerily empty canteen, with only the distant sounds of the kitchen, very different from the bustling, noisy place it usually is. There were a few staff going in and out of the kitchen, preparing for service time, but apart from them, there were just us and Mr Niggemann. We started by asking how the concept of the Japanese „Mensa“ came about. Mr Niggemann told us that the Japanese cafeteria was the brainchild of the Berlin Student Union, who wanted to integrate popular Japanese dishes such as udon, sushi and rāmen into the refectory system. As the old vegetarian cafeteria was considered obsolete due to the inclusion of vegetarian dishes in the entire system of university cafeterias in Berlin, the Studierendenwerk decided to transform it into the new Japanese cafeteria.

Mr Niggemann became Shokudō’s Operations Manager. His concept for the cafeteria was shaped by his experiences as a chef in many countries, particularly in Asia. Together with a committee, he created a menu that would bring a taste of Japan to Freie Universität. The dishes had to be affordable for students, locally sourced, organic and sustainable, and mostly vegan or at least vegetarian. However, at the request of the Students‘ Union, some meat or fish dishes have been added – up to 4 times every 5 weeks. The dishes are designed under the supervision of Mr Niggemann and the other cafeteria chefs to find new ways to create Japanese dishes, using local ingredients to replace unavailable or too expensive ingredients, and vegan solutions to create a variety of Japanese fusion dishes. Some of these may be a departure from ‚authentic‘ Japanese cuisine and tradition, but they create a fun interplay of different cultures and inspirations, such as Thai curries, which inspired Mr Niggemann to create one of his dishes. At the end of the interview, we were allowed to try the maki sushi and the sauces that had been developed to accompany it, bringing the familiar tastes of wasabi and soy sauce to sushi in the cafeteria.

As for the interior design, we did not get many answers because an interior design firm was commissioned to do it. However, Mr Niggemann likes the interior design and was able to explain the mysterious circular object in the tatami room that had puzzled us. It turned out to be a lamp, inspired by the moon. Mr Niggemann also told us an anecdote about the tatami room.  Prior to the opening of the new cafeteria, students had the opportunity to participate in its creation by suggesting names to the committee. One of the funniest was „Barfußmensa“ – a reference to the tatami area where you’re supposed to take your shoes off. The interview gave us a lot of information that we could not have gathered by observation alone. We would like to thank Esko Niggemann for his spontaneous, open and informative interview and for his kind hospitality.