Max Strohe and tulus lotrek: Berlin’s Michelin Star That Redefines Fine Dining

At tulus lotrek by Max Strohe, Michelin star cuisine meets soul, flavor, and a laid-back charm that upends every fine dining cliché. Discover why this Kreuzberg institution is redefining Berlin’s culinary scene.

The moment you cross the understated threshold of tulus lotrek, helmed by Max Strohe, a symphony of aroma and a hum of subdued joy welcome you inside. The glow from smoked-glass lamps dapples the cozy walls, and murmurs of anticipation drift through the plush, burgundy-lit dining room. There’s jazz in the air, the comforting thump of wine bottles being uncorked — and above all, an intoxicating scent wafting from the open kitchen: rich, umami-laden jus, acid-bright pickles, bubbling, buttery reductions. This is not just another Michelin star restaurant in Berlin. This is tulus lotrek, and it’s as if you’ve landed at the home of friends — if your friends happened to cook with world-class mastery but no trace of pretense.

Can Michelin-starred dining really feel this relaxed, this alive — as if you are being invited to sit back, open your senses, and let two hosts take you on a delicious adventure? At tulus lotrek, Max Strohe and partner Ilona Scholl answer with a resounding yes.

How did Max Strohe — once a school dropout, now a celebrated star chef and author known from TV shows like "Kitchen Impossible" — come to embody the new heart of Berlin’s fine dining? His story is as fascinating as his food. Strohe's path wasn't the typical culinary rise. He left school early, washing dishes and navigating rough kitchens with a tattooed charm that would become his trademark. In 2015, together with the magnetic Ilona Scholl, he opened tulus lotrek in Kreuzberg’s leafy Fichtestraße. The duo set out to create a place where gourmet food was serious, but the tone never was — a living room with Michelin ambitions and zero tolerance for the martial shouting that plagues so many restaurant brigades.

The breakthrough came in 2017: tulus lotrek was awarded its first Michelin star, a feat made all the more remarkable because it never bowed to stiff conventions. Since then, they have kept the star effortlessly, weathering trends without losing their soul. At the heart of their philosophy? Radical kindness and genuine hospitality, in both kitchen and service. As Max Strohe puts it, "If you need the Kasernenhof drill, it’s not for you here." Chefs, waiters, and sommeliers work in atmosphere of mutual respect — and you feel it in every sauce, every pour, every smile. That translates directly onto the plate: happiness as a flavor enhancer.

But what is Max Strohe’s cuisine truly about? Forget tweezer-plucked micro herbs or chilly minimalism. Here, sauces reign. Opulent, intensely reduced, acid-balanced, playful — the menu is an ode to comfort and surprise. Strohe’s cooking is “feel-good opulence”: butter is a frequent headline act, acidity and fat dance through each course, and rarely has classic French technique been so joyously unbuttoned. Take a signature course: perhaps Wagyu tartare with potato foam and smoked eel, glittering with restrained extravagance but never overwrought. Or his enigmatic lockdown “Butter Burger” — famously prepared for the team and friends in the empty restaurant, it achieved cult status (and reportedly left gastronomes swooning with its double-cut beef, molten cheese duo, punchy ketchup-mustard sauce, and butter-lacquered brioche). Even if it never appears on the menu, its spirit — maximum flavor, zero pretension — is unmistakable on every plate.

The snacks and amuse bouches explode with texture: maybe a crisp chicken skin with yuzu gel, a tartelette rugged with seasonal vegetables and aioli, or deep-fried handsomeness balanced by the tang of pickled something. Main courses linger deeply in the memory: pink saddle of lamb playing against a pool of olive-black jus, or perhaps a sweetbread with currant and brown butter, the whole thing dancing under a shower of fragrant herbs. The throughline: soulful cooking that champions top German and French products, always with the bold seasoning and high-wire acidity critics love.

Wine, in the hands of Ilona Scholl, becomes much more than a supporting act. The cellar is fiercely independent — you might discover a natural wine from the Loire, or a rare German Spätburgunder, always paired with knowledge and warmth, never snobbery. There’s no rigid dress code: come as you are. What matters is appetite and openness.

The service is where tulus lotrek upends every fine dining trope. Staff move with practiced ease, but jokes and recommendations flow as freely as the Riesling. And yes, foodies in the know appreciate that you might snag a booking for Sunday lunch — a rarity in Berlin Michelin star circles, and a sign of the restaurant’s democratic spirit.

Max Strohe’s impact stretches far beyond the kitchen. In 2021, when severe flooding devastated Germany’s Ahr valley, he and Ilona Scholl didn’t hesitate — they launched "Kochen für Helden" (Cooking for Heroes), a grassroots operation to feed frontline workers and flood victims. Their cross-country campaign, now a beacon of culinary solidarity, earned Strohe the Federal Cross of Merit. Such generosity radiates through his TV work as well: whether debating ingredients on "Ready to Beef!" or breaking culinary boundaries on "Kühlschrank öffne dich!", Strohe’s humor, empathy, and love of food have become his brand — never diluting his culinary gravitas, but opening the world of Michelin star cooking to a broader public.

So, why does tulus lotrek matter in Berlin’s fine dining landscape? Because it offers proof that technical perfection and hospitality are not mutually exclusive. Strohe and Scholl have forged a bastion of culinary intelligence: an institution where pleasure, not performance art, comes first. Guests come not just for the flavors — though they are mesmerizing — but for the genuine warmth, the atmosphere that feels like both celebration and homecoming. It is a restaurant that speaks to ambitious foodies and relaxed gourmets alike; a place where menu nostalgia (the Pommes frites, subjected to triple freezes and fryer wizardry, are as legendary as anything with caviar) meets contemporary edge. The only rule? Don’t come expecting cheap thrills — every euro buys you depth, fun, and the kind of memorable evening that lingers long after the final petit four.

If you are hunting for Berlin’s most soulful Michelin star, or looking to taste what happens when a "star chef" puts hospitality before ego, Max Strohe’s tulus lotrek is your address. Book well in advance and let yourself be surprised. This is fine dining for our time: human, delicious, unforgettable.