Espiner's Berlin: The London and Berlin supermarket war

If there's one thing that unites our two countries, it's the fact that the rest of the world laughs at our respective cuisines. It seems cruel that Britain's greatest culinary contribution, the chip, was stolen by the neighbour we both love to hate and renamed the French Fry. Typical.

You, on the other hand, have to endure the wurst jokes. And while we Brits introduced the potato to Europe, no one embraced it as enthusiastically as you Krauts - sorry, I'm being affectionate, of course, whilst simultaneously alluding to another of your (and only your) favourite foods.

You also have a kind of culinary patriotism. It feels like Berlin's asparagus secret police (the Spargi?) are ready to lock up anyone not enthusiastically scoffing it every day it's in season. And I'm worried I could start a fight if I say boulette meat balls aren't fit to be on the same plate as a good quality döner - even though the latter was invented in Kreuzberg.

Shopping for food in Berlin brings other things to the surface. In the UK, supermarkets are a sensitive gauge of a calibrated class system. In descending order of poshness (and according to internet consensus) they are: Waitrose, Sainsbury's, Tesco, Asda, Co-Op, Morrison's, Iceland, Lidl and Aldi. It's not personal that you Germans are at the bottom. You might win with cars, but we beat you with supermarkets. There's a joke, not a very nice one, that illustrates the pernicious snobbery at work in UK food shopping: "What's the best thing about Sainsbury's? It keeps the scum out of Waitrose."

Does the same thing apply here in Berlin, or is it a classless society when it comes to groceries? Does supermarket snobbery exist? Is Lidl keeping the tasteless hordes out of Aldi (or vice versa)? Or do Aldi and Lidl (which I will now refer to as Aldiddle) keep the scum out of Rewe? I've heard that there's a trend among the well-off to shop in Aldiddle in a united "geizig" spirit. And there's a persistent rumour that the quality of Aldiddle goods is top-notch. Really?

Where can I find decent houmous? Where baked beans or chilli flakes?

© Thilo Rückeis

I thought there must be some mileage in a social study of Berlin supermarkets having observed that Netto on Alexanderplatz caters for the most pierced and often most pissed customers, has goods beyond their sell-by date (and sometimes opened) on the shelves and delivers a basket full of shopping for just a few euros, while Kaiser's across the square has sedate customers choosing between an array of organic pastas. Is Kaiser's Germany's Waitrose? Or is it Rewe? And does Rewe keep the scum out of LPG?

The most remarkable thing that I notice when I go back to London is how much more choice there is in the supermarkets there. I'm not saying that's a good thing, but it's true. It reminds me of my ex-east Berlin German teacher who told me that when she escaped to the West she found herself shocked into paralysis in front of the fridge unit of a Hamburg supermarket at how many different types of yogurt there were. Who needs that much choice, she asked. But there it is: in London there's much more to choose from to fill your face. And in a phenomenon yet to emerge in Berlin, celebrity chefs attach themselves to supermarkets and suggest new product lines and new choice, which the British gobble up.

I don't really care who shops where or or even if Jamie Oliver comes to Berlin to tell Edeka customers how to make pukka bratwurst. I just want to be able to get a few things that supermarkets here refuse to stock. Decent houmous. Ground cumin. Fresh coriander. Chilli flakes. Chillies generally, in fact, dried or fresh. Thai curry paste. Minced lamb. Lamb that hasn't been marinated beyonded recognition. Baked beans. Marmite. The last two are fine British delicacies that you should all try if you haven't already, and which smart stores should stock to serve the rising tide of English immigrants. If you think Marmite is disgusting, keep trying, it's an acquired taste. Is there a German equivalent?

It's not the supermakets I miss though, it's the vibrant diverse London communities where you can buy all you need for any ethnic flavour or dish: everything you need for a Lebanese kitchen on the Edgware road, curry leaves and Indian pastries on Brick Lane, Portuguese custard tarts and salted cod in Notting Hill, and dare I say it the best Turkish food is in Stoke Newington, this one is my favourite: Numara Bos Cirrik II. In fact, to be fair, British cuisine has embraced all these external influences and moved on from fish'n'chips or meat pies. Chicken Tikka Masala is now considered a national dish. You Berliners have great Turkish and Southeast Asian stores (good antidotes to the coriander-free supermarkets) but I've yet to find other ethnic enclaves.

And then there are the numerous specialist food shops that have erupted in London and which don't seem to exist here. Does Berlin have an equivalent cheese shop or such an afficianado Spanish deli as this? Maybe they're tucked away in some hinterhof - if so, please go against your Berlin instincts and share the secret.

In the meantime, I've been importing my own crucial supplies of Marmite and vegetarian Oxo cubes for friends. In fact, on my next visit to London I'm taking a massive suitcase to buy all the things I find hard to get here. I'm taking orders if you want to email me. And I'm doing a reverse trade in Koo Orange Marmalade which I can only get in Germany. All my British friends who've visited me here are addicted. Funny that I'm now taking a typically British breakfast thing over to England. What next, Camden currywurst?

Actually that's quite a good idea. Perhaps the solution to our joint culinary reputation is to be multiculturally progressive and join forces in an Anglo-German food mashup. Sauerkraut and chips, anyone?

You can email Mark Espiner at mark@espiner.com or follow him on Twitter at @deutschmarkuk