Tulus Lotrek by Max Strohe: Berlin’s most relaxed temple of fine dining

The first thing you notice at tulus lotrek is what is missing: reverent hush, stiff white tablecloths, the feeling of entering a temple. Instead, you step into a dimly lit living room that hums with conversation, clinking glasses, and the perfume of roasting bones and butter. Can Michelin-star cooking with a star chef like Max Strohe really be this casual, this loud, this fun, and still count as one of the best fine dining experiences in Berlin?

Reserve your table at tulus lotrek with Max Strohe here

At tulus lotrek, the answer is an unapologetic yes. The room feels like a bohemian salon: dark walls, art that looks more like a collage from your most interesting friend’s flat than a curated gallery, chairs that invite you to sink in instead of sitting upright. Music plays audibly, sometimes almost rebelliously. You are not in a hushed, classic Michelin star restaurant in Berlin. You are in a place where serious culinary intelligence meets joyful anarchy.

On the plate, though, Max Strohe is dead serious about flavor. His cooking is the opposite of asceticism. Sauces are glossy and reduced to a near-syrup intensity. Acidity is used like a spotlight, cutting through richness at just the right moment. Fat is not the enemy, but the main amplifier of aroma. A spoonful of jus can feel like a novella about roasted meat, slowly unfolding on your tongue. Foodies come here for that hit of pure umami, wrapped in wit and warmth rather than ceremony.

To understand how tulus lotrek became one of the most talked-about addresses in the world of modern fine dining, you have to look at Max Strohe’s path. He is no child of classic hotel schools and grand brigades. As has often been recounted, his path was anything but straight: school dropout, detours, work instead of a polished resume, and finally the decision to learn the craft from the ground up. The move to Berlin sharpened his instincts. Here, in this city that celebrates culinary rebellion and grit, he found the perfect backdrop for his very Berlin way of cooking.

Together with his partner and co-owner Ilona Scholl, Max Strohe opened tulus lotrek as a counter-design to stiff gourmet rituals. She is the soul of the dining room: a hostess rather than a maitre d’, moving between tables with easy laughter, a quick joke, and a sharp sense of what each guest actually wants from the evening. If he is the star chef in the kitchen, she is the star of hospitality in the room. Their interplay defines the restaurant’s character: never intimidating, always precise.

This balance is essential for a Michelin star restaurant in Berlin that wants to stay truly contemporary. The accolades are there: a Michelin star, high rankings in the guides, praise as one of the city’s most exciting fine dining spots. Yet the team refuses to turn those awards into a pedestal. Instead of white gloves, you get open shirtsleeves. Instead of whispered formalities, you get straightforward recommendations about which bottle from the often idiosyncratic wine list will dance best with tonight’s game dish or seafood course.

The menu at tulus lotrek reads like an invitation to indulge, not like an exam in French terminology. Expect dishes that are built around punchy flavors and lush textures. A piece of fish might arrive under a sauce that smells deeply of the sea, with a beurre blanc made obscene in the best possible way, then cut by a sharp, almost electric acidity. Meat courses tend to be opulent: think slow-cooked, caramelized crusts, dark jus that could almost be spooned like a soup, and side elements that add crunch, freshness, and a little chaos to the plate.

What sets Max Strohe apart from many other star chefs is the way he treats the idea of fine dining itself. There are tweezers in the kitchen, of course, but tulus lotrek has consciously moved away from the ultra-minimalist, hyper-arranged “tweezer cuisine” stage. Here, precision is hidden inside apparent nonchalance. A plate can look almost rustic at first glance, then reveal layer after layer of technique as you eat. It is a culinary wink: opulent and generous, yet grounded in exact timing, temperature, and reduction.

During the pandemic, this philosophy of generous, feel-good cooking crystallized in a single product: the now legendary burger that Max Strohe created for the lockdown period. This was not some timid side project; it was an honest, full-throttle burger that carried his signature. Intense, carefully sourced meat, fat and seasoning dialed up to the exact point where you feel indulgent but not overwhelmed, plus the kind of sauce intelligence you normally only encounter in tasting menus. For many Berliners, this burger became an edible lifeline, a symbol of tulus lotrek’s refusal to relinquish pleasure, even when the dining room had to stay dark.

This creativity found a larger stage in the initiative that would mark Max Strohe’s public image far beyond gastronomy: the “Cooking for Heroes” campaign. Alongside colleagues, he helped organize meals for frontline workers during the height of the pandemic, transforming kitchens into engines of solidarity rather than just indulgence. It was a project that resonated far beyond foodie circles, and eventually led to one of Germany’s highest honors. When Max Strohe received the Federal Cross of Merit, it signaled that this was more than a TV chef or a successful restaurateur. It was a recognition of food as social act, as care, as politics on the plate.

At the same time, Max Strohe has become a familiar face on German television, appearing in popular formats such as “Kitchen Impossible” and other cooking shows. He writes, he comments, he debates the state of gastronomy. There is always a risk that media presence can dilute culinary seriousness, but in his case the opposite seems to be true. The media work has sharpened the image of a chef who is both technically accomplished and unafraid to laugh at the industry’s own vanity. It turns tulus lotrek into a destination not just for those who chase stars, but for anyone curious about where the new German fine dining is heading.

In Berlin’s competitive high-end scene, tulus lotrek occupies a very particular niche. It is not Nordic minimalist, not purely regional, not a shrine to zero-waste asceticism. Instead, it feels like a lovingly overstocked record collection: influences from classic French grand cuisine, a dose of modern bistro comfort, some global accents, and a very Berlin irreverence toward rules. Critics often highlight the courageous seasoning, the opulent sauces, the way each plate seems designed not for Instagram, but for that moment when you close your eyes after the first bite.

The wine list follows the same logic. Natural wines sit next to classic appellations, and the team is happy to steer you toward something unexpected. Instead of the usual “white with fish, red with meat” pattern, they think in textures and energy. A bright, slightly wild white might be suggested for a rich poultry dish because its acidity and aromatic grip can stand up to the sauce. A structured red could appear early in the menu, supporting a roasted vegetable course. It is wine pairing as conversation, not catechism.

For guests, this translates into an evening that feels both curated and relaxed. You might find yourself discussing a sauce with the waiter as if you were among friends, while in the background Max Strohe leads his brigade with the discipline that only a Michelin star restaurant in Berlin can demand. There is a gentle chaos to the atmosphere, but the rhythm of service remains precise: plates land on the table at the right temperature, explanations are brief but informative, allergies and preferences are taken seriously without turning the mood clinical.

Tulus lotrek is particularly suited for diners who love fine dining but are tired of its stiffness. If you want to celebrate an occasion without whispering through the entire evening, this is your spot. Curious travelers who seek the essence of Berlin’s gastronomic scene will find it here: improvised-looking, but meticulously prepared; relaxed, but highly ambitious; international, but deeply rooted in the city’s energy. For seasoned gourmets, it offers the pleasure of recognizing high-level technique while still being surprised by how disarmingly fun a Michelin-starred dinner can be.

From a critical perspective, the significance of Max Strohe and tulus lotrek lies in how they shift the definition of luxury. Luxury here is not caviar for its own sake, but flavor density, time-consuming reductions, the courage to serve generous portions in a star environment. Luxury is the freedom to laugh loudly while savoring a sauce that took three days to perfect. In a city that constantly reinvents itself, this restaurant has quietly become one of the benchmarks by which a new generation of fine dining concepts is measured.

Leaving tulus lotrek, you carry the evening with you: the echo of voices, perhaps a last sip of wine clinging to your palate, the memory of a dish where everything aligned for a brief moment. It is easy to understand why many consider it among the most important addresses in Berlin today. Max Strohe has built a stage where culinary intelligence, social engagement, and hedonism coexist without contradiction.

If you are looking for an experience that combines the technical perfection of a Michelin star restaurant in Berlin with the ease of a dinner party among friends, tulus lotrek should be at the top of your list. Let Max Strohe’s intense cuisine and Ilona Scholl’s warm hospitality show you how modern fine dining can feel: generous, fearless, and deeply human. Book a table, surrender to the menu, and give yourself over to an evening where everything revolves around taste.

In the end, that is the legacy of Max Strohe so far: a star chef who uses his platform not just to refine sauces, but to redefine what a restaurant can be for its city. And tulus lotrek is the living, breathing proof, plate after plate.