All last week, work took me out to a corner of Wilmersdorf that I’ve never spent much time in, but was happy to have the opportunity to explore. One more thing I love about Berlin: The city never feels either too big or too small. I can stay bound to the little village that is my Kiez and feel completely connected to everything I want or need, or I can strike out in pretty much any direction and take delight in someplace undiscovered. Even after six years, Berlin still inspires curiosity and wonder. Which is more than one can say for most long-term relationships of that length, am I right or am I right?
Amongst the things Wilmersdorf’s streets had in store: a sparse Japanese Imbiss with the best udon soup in recent memory (details another time), some seriously gorgeous entryways, an outlet store for hand-painted Bunzlauer pottery, and this:
I am an avid fan of the absurdity of daily life. And this hand-scrawled bicycle ad was just too absurdly charming to resist. Who is the Salami-Mann? What kind of person dedicates themselves wholly to cured meats? What culinary delights lay in store in his little salami world? I gave myself over to curiosity and followed the bicycle’s invitation down the rabbit hole, in search of the enigmatic Salami-Mann.
Well, the Salami-Mann wasn’t home that day. In his stead, the Salami-Frau explained to me that their little shop specializes in artisanal, dry-cured salami from the Steiermark region of Austria and from Italy, made out of the usual pork and beef but also from wild game as well. From big hefty meat tubes sliced and sold by weight to little pocket-sized salami snacks (known as Salanettis, Kaminwurzel, or Landjäger) for just 50 cents each, from mild to piquant to spicy, Salami-Mann is a one-stop shop for your cured meat needs. He’s got some fancy Swiss cheeses in stock, too, should your Abendbrot require it. Here’s to you, Mr. Salami-Mann, and to a life well lived.
Salami-Mann: Holsteinische Str. 56 | Open Tues. and Thurs. 12.00-18.00 | Website