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CHRISTMAS

Why there is one thing about German Christmas that sends a chill down my spine

Growing up in Scotland, I had limited connection to my German heritage. The only time of year that this changed was Christmas, which was magical - for the most part.

Why there is one thing about German Christmas that sends a chill down my spine
Photo: DPA

I grew up in a tiny village in the northwest of Scotland. For much of my time in primary school, I was the only child in my year. To say we were isolated from the outside world is to put it rather mildly.

My siblings and I never learned German. Instead we were brought up singing Gaelic songs. Rather than listening to Bach and Beethoven, we played the bagpipes. And we never cared about German football, all that mattered to us was Scottish rugby.

But this all changed in December when the wonderful characters of German Christmas tradition took a detour from their trips around the Bundesrepublik to travel across the North Sea.

It all started on the evening of December 5th, when we would polish our boots and put them out for St Nikolaus. The next morning we would wake up to find them filled with tangerines and nuts. The other children in our primary school couldn't understand why we got this extra visit from a jolly old man in the depths of the night, so some of them started putting boots out too. (As far as I remember, their gift the first year was a boot full of rain water before their parents caught on the year after.)

My German grandparents also helped out from afar. A huge box would arrive covered in stamps in the days leading up to Christmas. We unpacked it to find the finest marzipan from Lübeck, delightful Stollen from Dresden and Lebkuchen from Bavaria.

Eating the Stollen was taken particularly seriously – we had a special knife, kept in its own case, which would only be brought out at Christmas time to cut the sweet loaf.

Whereas the other children's houses all lit up with fairy lights and glowing Christmas trees much earlier in December, ours still lay bare on the day of the 24th. Not a single decoration was to be put in place until the Christkind arrived. By that time we had all been packed off to our bedrooms, where we eagerly awaited the sound of a bell, the sign this mysterious German man-child had finished his work and vanished.

When we came down the stairs there was a tree standing in the corner of the living room, covered in red, crepe-paper roses – another German tradition that had been passed down through our family for generations.

The Christkind had left each of us a pile of presents. It was the peak of the Christmas celebrations. But it was also the point that an odd feeling started to form in my stomach, a queasy sensation that only grew with the opening of every new gift. By the time there was nothing left on the floor but neatly folded paper (ready to use the next year) my face had turned a pale green.

I knew that the next thing that awaited me was that unavoidable, most dreadful of German Christmas traditions – herring salad.

In the middle of the kitchen table a large bowl awaited us filled with a mixture of hard-boiled eggs, beetroot, potatoes and pickled herring. There was no side dish, no bread that might fill me up. I had no choice but to force down as much of this sadomasochistic Baltic “delicacy” as would calm the angry, baying voices in my belly.

It is only after I moved to Germany as an adult that I came to realize that pickled herring is just one of several traditional German Christmas meals my parents could have picked from. We could have just as easily ended up scoffing down a carp or stuffing ourselves with raclette.

The dessert on Christmas Eve was the only bit of Britishness we had – a steaming Christmas pudding followed the herring salad. Nothing made me feel as happy to be brought up in Britain rather than Germany. Maybe that was my parents' psychological trick.

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FOOD AND DRINK

Where are the best places to taste Chinese hotpot in Germany?

Chinese hotpot has gained international popularity in recent years, including here in Germany. But where are the best places to taste it in Germany?

Where are the best places to taste Chinese hotpot in Germany?

Called huǒguō (火锅) in Chinese, hotpot refers to a meal of meats, vegetables and mushrooms that are cooked in a rich, often spicy, broth and eaten with sauce. 

The “hotpot” refers to the large basin of broth, which is kept at a boil on the table, so that diners can cook the raw ingredients to their liking. Oftentimes the basin is split into two separate halves so that diners can have both spicy and savoury broths side by side.

If you’ve ever tried Japanese shabu-shabu, then you’ll find this style of cooking to be similar.

The origin of hotpot is thought to date back to around 200 AD, but it began gaining popularity in the west in the 1990s, brought to western countries by Chinese immigrants.

While still largely unknown to many Germans, hotpot has certainly gained notoriety in Deutschland in recent years. A number of new hotpot-specific restaurants have popped up in Berlin and other German cities recently.

Note that hotpot is designed to be shared among small groups of people. You can order a hotpot for two, but it’s not a dish for one. So you’ll want to save this experience for a date, or a meal out with friends.

Here are a few places to try hotpot in Germany:

XiaoLongKan (ShooLoongKan) in Berlin, Frankfurt and Düsseldorf 

Among China’s biggest hotpot restaurant chains, Xiaolongkan (written as ShooLoongKan in Berlin) operates three German franchises – in Berlin, Frankfurt and Düsseldorf.

Xiaolongkan is an obvious first choice for both hotpot veterans and first-times alike. The base soups are solid – with chilli, tomato and mushroom options – and the ingredients are fresh and beautifully presented. 

Additionally, the atmosphere is impressive. A review on the restaurant’s website notes: “The design inside looks exactly like in hot pot restaurants in China.” Which makes sense, considering that Xiaolongkan operates many of those hotpot restaurants in China. Still, between the red and gold colours, the ornamental tables and lanterns, and the selection of food and drinks not found elsewhere in Germany, the dining experience here feels otherworldly.

Note that the chilli broth comes in three levels of spiciness, and that the spice levels are based-on a Chinese palette – it is not reduced to accommodate German sensibilities. So if you order the chili broth, expect heat.

Lucky Star in Berlin

Located on Friedrichstrasse in Berlin’s Mitte neighbourhood, Lucky Star is a time tested local favourite.

Its interior is not as flashy as some of Germany’s newer hotpot restaurants, but what it lacks in looks it more than makes up for in price and quality.

As opposed to other hotpot restaurants where diners pay by the item, Lucky Star offers all-you-can-eat hotpot for €22,80 per person, making it one of the most affordable hotpot spots you can find. 

In addition to hotpot, Lucky Star also offers a rather extensive menu and Chinese and Szechuan dishes. 

AI generated image of hotpot

An AI generated image of hotpot. Image by Deeznutz1 | Pixabay

Berlin’s recent hotpot additions

In Berlin especially, the hotpot trend has really taken off in recent years with a number of new restaurants popping up recently.

A few of the other highly rated options include Ting Song in Charlottenburg and Huotang on Kurfürstendamm. Both locations offer refined, if wildly different aesthetic experiences: Ting Song describes its ambiance as “cozy and poetic” – think wooden tables and with white walls and traditional Chinese art – whereas Huotang looks very modern and colourful.

Another recent opener is Hotpot & Nudeln in the Friedrichshain neighbourhood. The favourite menu item here is a little different – its malatang rather than huǒguō hotpot.

Malatang (麻辣烫) is named for the mala pepper that gives the soup a spicy and numbing flavour. But more practically, this malatang is served in an individual bowl rather than a massive basin of broth to be shared around the table, making Hotpot & Nudeln a good choice for single diners with a craving for hotpot.

Chois Hotpot & Lounge and malatang options in Munich

Residents of Munich don’t need to venture far to tuck into some hot and spicy broth – Chois Hotpot & Lounge serves up all-you-can-eat hotpot right on Tumblingerstraße, near the Goetheplatz U-bahn station.

Chois offers a unique pacing structure to its all-you-can-eat menu, by bringing a new round of dishes out every 15 minutes for up to two hours, as long as guests are still hungry.

Munich is also home to a number of small malatang restaurants, such as YGF or Mr. Mala Hotpot, which are humble little restaurants quickly serving up individual soups.

In many malatang restaurants, you’ll find an assortment of raw meats, seafoods, vegetables and mushrooms offered in a self-service buffet counter. You fill up a bowl with whatever you want and then choose a flavour of broth. The cook will then boil the contents of your bowl in the broth you selected and serve you a bowl of hotpot soup.

In this case, you are charged according to the weight of the ingredients you select.

READ ALSO: ‘Meat drowned in sauce’ – Germany’s biggest food culture shocks for foreigners

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