Brunch in Berlin was something I learned quickly (within the first few months of living here) to avoid. Most spreads include acre-feet of meat and cheese, and in the winter the only fruit you'll see will have come out of a can. I'm a woman who appreciates carbohydrates for breakfast; I want breads with real preserves, plus French toast and pancakes and waffles, all with real maple syrup. So when the Pirate suggested a Russian brunch at Cafe Datscha in Friedrichshain, I was sceptical, but one look at all the strange little tchotcke things they offered was enough to convince me. Looks did not deceive in this case; although I have next to no idea what I was eating 80% of the time, 90% of it was fabulous. It's a real splurge at 9,50 euros, but if you show up good and hungry, then leisurely eat your way through a couple of hours, it's more than worth it.
The good news keeps on coming: Fortuna, whose Thanksgivings I've raved about for two years, has decided to do a Sunday brunch at her place on Weserstr. Naturally I chose real American-style buttermilk pancakes that definitely beat out my mother's recipe. She also treated me to a sample of her sausage gravy with biscuits. The gravy was wonderful, even for someone who avoids Schweinfleisch with a nearly religious fervor, but if I could be immodest, I do believe my biscuits would win out in a taste-test. The next time I'll have to try either the eggs Juanita or salmon hash.