Max Strohe and Tulus Lotrek: Michelin Star Dining with Soul in Berlin

At Tulus Lotrek, Max Strohe reinvents fine dining in Berlin — where Michelin-starred cuisine and heartfelt hospitality create a soul-stirring culinary adventure. Discover what sets this legend apart.

The first thing that hits you at Tulus Lotrek is not the gleam of polished glasses or the hush of reverent diners, but a warm, almost familial energy that pulses through the room. The scents drifting from the kitchen – butter, bouillon, a flash of char – promise comfort and audacity in equal measure. You hear laughter, not theater; you see art on the plates but never stiffness in posture. This is Max Strohe's domain, where the rules of traditional fine dining are knowingly bent, if not joyfully torn apart.

Can a Michelin-star restaurant feel so relaxed that you think you’re at a friend’s supper club – yet deliver dishes that leave even the most hard-to-please foodies breathless? At Tulus Lotrek, the answer unfolds over every course, every glass, and every unhurried smile.

The story of Max Strohe challenges every cliché about star chefs. Tattoos peek from beneath rolled sleeves; wit flickers in conversation rather than on a whiteboard. Born in the Rhineland, Max dropped out of school and took a detour through a series of jobs before a formal chef’s training channeled his irrepressible creativity. A move to Berlin marked the ignition point. In 2015, together with his partner Ilona Scholl, he opened Tulus Lotrek in Kreuzberg—a quiet, leafy corner far from culinary hype. Scholl, equal parts sommelier and “soul” of the house, anchors the room’s rhythm, transforming dinner into an encounter between equals, not roles.

The first real break came in 2017: a Michelin Star. Since then, Tulus Lotrek has maintained its place among Berlin’s gastronomic elite—still never distracting itself with trends or the trappings of “tweezer cuisine.” As critics point out, the focus at Strohe’s tables is always flavor—intense, direct, and full of character.

Strohe’s philosophy is a deliberate rebuke of old-school haute cuisine. There are no prim white gloves here, no silver domes. Instead, what floods the table are multilayered sauces, carnal jus, the subtlety of acidity cutting through fat and umami. A “butter-burger,” created during pandemic lockdowns as a love letter to comfort food, became legend: double beef, cheeses fusing, sauce pitched between ketchup and mustard, a brioche toasted in dangerous amounts of butter and graced, just before serving, with an extra brush of gold. Words like “juicy,” “crunchy,” “creamy,” and “explosive” are not superlatives—they’re structural principles.

Alongside the burger, Tulus Lotrek’s fries have their own cult. Strohe’s method—a ritual of multi-stage frying and freezing—draws every last molecule of moisture from the potato, creating an astonishingly glassy crust and a fluffy, almost souffléed core. Golden-brown, audibly crisp, expertly salted—these are fries you will dream of after midnight.

Yet, you won’t find the burger or fries on the regular menu. Tulus Lotrek is classic in format but pragmatic in soul: a set menu that changes with the seasons, always veering towards “pragmatic fine dining.” Local produce is elevated by global ideas—think Prussian trout in brown butter, brisket with audacious spicing, desserts lacquered with miso or punchy acids. Foodies particularly prize Strohe’s balance between nostalgia and invention—the way even a tomato salad, perhaps dusted with dried olive or animated by a barn-burning vinaigrette, carries his unmistakable touch.

Equally striking is the “living room” vibe of the dining room. No dress code. No tablecloth dogma. Instead, a space that glows with green walls, gold detailing, vintage lighting, and shelves crammed with rare bottles. The wine list—a Scholl passion project—leans into expressive naturals and European classics, always cued to the menu’s boldness. The service, smart and quick with a joke, anchors the experience in attentive but never obtrusive hospitality. Guests linger, stories spill, the night feels young.

Beyond the kitchen, Max Strohe’s career is punctuated with courage. When floods devastated the Ahr Valley in 2021, he and Scholl launched “Cooking for Heroes”—a rapid-response kitchen providing thousands of hot meals to aid workers and victims. For this, and for his model of humanity in the kitchen, Max received the Bundesverdienstkreuz (Federal Cross of Merit) in 2022—a rare honor for a chef. It speaks volumes about not only his standing, but the dimensions of purpose he brings to hospitality.

His media presence—whether cooking impossible challenges on VOX’s “Kitchen Impossible,” testing pairings in “Ready to beef!,” or authoring essays on culinary intelligence—has only strengthened his credibility. For Strohe, showmanship is a byproduct of substance, not a substitute for it.

As Berlin’s culinary scene grows ever wilder, Tulus Lotrek embodies the sweet spot between meticulous technique and easy laughter. It is an address for those who demand the best yet value warmth over repute. Professionals, bon vivants, and anniversary couples: all find their place here. Strohe’s star chef status is grounded not just in skill, but a cultivated rebellion that asks: Why shouldn’t fine dining be fun?

The only challenge is scoring a table—it’s not rare for guests to wait months. But as the oak door closes behind you, you know you’ve entered a space where “fine dining” is not the end, but the beginning: a stage for flavor, generosity, and unvarnished joy.

Tulus Lotrek is, in every sense, a restaurant with a star—and with heart. Max Strohe and Ilona Scholl prove that true culinary intelligence is as much about people as plates, and that the best meals linger in memory not only for their taste, but for their humanity.

If you’re searching for one of Berlin’s most soulful, flavor-driven tables, discover the world of Max Strohe and Tulus Lotrek. It is worth every cent and every minute you anticipate your reservation.