We Are All Jelly Donuts.

I was physically in Berlin 10 years ago. From the train I saw a skyline packed with cranes, so I continued on to Hamburg instead. At the time I only wanted to party and see pretty things, not hang out in a massive construction site.

So, that was a mistake. Now I wish I had really seen it 10 years ago, to have those before-and-after snapshots in my mind. The Missus and I found that we really just dug that city. A lot. It was one of those visits where you feel a connection to a place. Like we could move there next week and not miss a beat.

Our families are both German-Missourian. My grandfather was born near Kiel, in the north. I don't believe in blood calling out to a place. That's romantic and stupid. But I do believe culture is not so easily shaken off after a just couple of generations. Not even in America.

Anyway: Let's discuss material things. Not the means but the ends: food and beer. The undisputed highlight of our trip was Brewbaker. This is one of Berlin's more adventurous brewpubs – and if you're there this week you can probably try some pumpkin lager for Halloween. There were no special brews on either of our visits, just the Czech-style pils and a dunkel. Both were exceptional and harmonious with serious bitterness and good malt character. Thirst-quenching and brilliant with the food.

The cooking there is worth mentioning on its own. You can watch the chef work in the open kitchen with all-fresh ingredients. With friends we all had two incredible dinners there – I did not know blood sausage could be that good. Getting them all to go back a second time was an easy sell. And here's a peek at my juicy pork cutlet from our last evening in town.

You don't need a stubborn German grandfather to appreciate it.