Great operating couple and the lady in service is extremely friendly and considerate. Small but nice and affordable offer. We always enjoy coming there 🥳🥰
We love going there, but on our last visit in February of this year, we were shocked by the price-performance ratio and the portion sizes. Everyone has to make money, and of course, certain products cost more. But drastically reducing portion sizes and then allowing prices to skyrocket is unfortunately not appropriate in our opinion. That was our last visit.
The Tragedy of Sommerfeld - A fairy tale from the world of the culinary apocalypse
Once upon a time there was a hungry soul who set out on a long journey in the hope of filling his empty stomach with delicious food. Word of a legendary place called Sommerfeld had spread across the country, a restaurant that was supposed to be blessed by the gods of star cuisine. So I set off with an empty stomach and full of expectations - and was bitterly disappointed.
Arrival at the Temple of Sterility
As soon as I entered this culinary mausoleum, I felt a strange feeling. The interior was reminiscent of a mix between an art gallery and an operating room. Cool colors, minimalist furniture and a silence so oppressive that even a whispered sentence was considered inappropriate. You hardly dared to breathe, let alone speak. A solemn atmosphere, as if you were in the holy hall of the priests of taste - but without holiness, without life, without soul.
The Card - A joke in several acts
With shaking hands, I picked up the menu, hoping for some revelation. Instead, I read cryptic words like fermented pointed cabbage with pickled root and dashi beurre blanc. Sounded like an alchemical formula for a magic potion, but probably tasted more like wet paper with the essence of hubris. The prices – oh, the prices! - were of such a height that it was thought that each plate contained a divine message engraved with gold edges.
The moment of starvation
Then came the food - or rather, what they thought it was. On a huge stoneware bowl, reminiscent of a feeding bowl for noble greyhounds, lay a meager composition of three drops of a reduced essence, an artfully arranged lettuce leaf and a forkful of protein element. I looked at my plate. My plate looked back at me. My stomach twisted in horror.
I ate. And I died.
Not physically – no, worse. I died emotionally, spiritually, culinary. Every bite was a taste of nothing. The taste was so subtle it was practically non-existent. I chewed on the concepts of modern culinary philosophy that promised me an explosion of flavor - instead it was a silent, empty vacuum. A tribute to the absolute insignificance of haute cuisine.
The service – the great silence
The waiters floated across the floor as if they were part of a theater production where emotions were not allowed. I dared to ask for a drinks menu. People looked at me like I asked for fries at the opera. When a glass of water finally landed on my table - quietly and silently - I knew: This was not a place for hungry people, but for those who gnaw at their own elitist self-image.
The end of an odyssey
When the bill came, I was overcome by another sense of dying - this time of a financial nature. For the amount that was asked for here, I could have bought a whole suckling pig and its own grill hut. I paid with tears in my eyes. Not out of emotion, but out of pure regret.
And so I left the summer field—hungry, broke, and enriched by an experience I wouldn't wish on an enemy. Maybe, I thought, the real secret to Michelin-starred cuisine is not the taste, but the ability to get people to pay for nothing. I'll never know.
Because I'm never coming back here.
One star – for the unintentional comedy.
The food is truly delicious and authentic. The steaks are excellent and highly recommended. The typical Argentinian empanadas are also delicious. The ambiance, the terrace, and especially the beautiful garden when the weather is nice, are beautiful. The events are worth noting. The truly fantastic, attentive, and extremely friendly service deserves special mention. A restaurant where you can feel at home and enjoy yourself. We'd be happy to come back.