There are, and I’m aware that this is an understatement, some very good brasseries in Paris. There are superlative tapas bars in Madrid, tip-top British pubs in London and orgasmically delicious trattorias in Rome.
The dishes are near-identical to their counterparts served at German pubs across the city. The only twist is that they’re actually good.
But the German equivalent of that in Berlin? A restaurant where the fare is both traditional enough to please tourists and tasty enough that locals go there, too? I’ll wait while you think of a few examples. Chances are they’re Austrian (Jolesch) or the vibe is old school enough to make the food seem better than it is (Max & Moritz, Clärchens Ballhaus).
As summer arrives and we Berliners are inundated with visitors, this hole in the dining scene becomes ever more glaring. Where do we take them for an authentic local food experience that splits the difference between frozen-in-time theme park attractions and buzzy hotspots that might as well be in Bushwick?
This is why I, along with every other food critic in town, was so excited about the opening of Trio in March. Here’s one of the city’s most promising young chefs, Noma alumnus and native Berliner Vadim Otto Ursus, turning his considerable talents to the pub grub of his native country. A triple effort with colleagues Eva Alken and Clemens Roesch (hence the name), the Mitte restaurant presents itself as an almost self-consciously low-key alternative to Otto, Ursus’ flagship small-plates-and-wine bar in Prenzlauer Berg.
Straight away, you can see the appeal of the place.
Trio has its roots in Otto’s lockdown-era lunches, which eschewed garum and koji butter in favour of down-home Teutonic comfort. Of course, those simple lunches drew queues rivalling those of apartment viewings within the Ringbahn, and now, anyone who describes Trio as a casual drop-in affair is probably friends with the owners. Come by early and you might be able to snag a stool at the bar, but you’re safest booking at least two weeks in advance. I did that for my dinner there, which happened under ideal test-drive circumstances: on a Sunday, with visiting family, after touring the Boros bunker.
Straight away, you can see the appeal of the place. It’s in that little-trafficked corner between Volksbühne and Soho House, in the same curving building as Bar 3 and the excellent sushi bar San. With classic decor and comfortable seating, the interior makes no concessions to Instagram and TikTok foodies – except one. If you see a photo of a white plate on a deep red tabletop, you’ll immediately know where it was taken.
The menu is similarly trend-averse, almost suspiciously so. After all, how many Berlin chefs have claimed to ‘elevate’ our city’s humble indigenous cuisine, mostly to disastrous results? (A Senfei doesn’t need caviar and currant gelee, Tim Raue!) But nothing at Trio is a ‘take’ on anything. Looking at the ingredients list alone, the dishes are near-identical to their counterparts served at German pubs across the city. The only twist is that they’re actually good.
Some of this has to do with the sourcing: where the tourist traps get away with industrial pork and jarred potato salad, Trio does the regional-sustainable thing. Otto fans will remember that Ursus has a reliable boar guy, and wild game appears on the Trio menu more than once. So does organic Brandenburg produce and fish from boutique aquaculture operation 25 Teiche. Then there’s the lack of shortcuts, evident from the first bite.
We started with bread (€2.50/person, homemade, hearty and the shade of brown Germans reminisce about when they move abroad) and a pair of expertly pickled pickles (€3.50), tangy and so horseradish-infused you couldn’t tell where root ended and cucumber began. Next came a pickled trout special – not a damn crudo, but a toothsome, pan-fried fillet marinated in vinegar with mustard seed and raw onions.
If you can’t tell by now, I’ve bought into the Trio hype.
Spargelzeit had just begun, and while €27 might seem steep for a plate of the phallic veg, the tender white stalks and silky Hollandaise earned their price tag. The dish also came with “parsley potatoes” that were, by some alchemical magic, more butter than tuber; no going hungry here. Those same spuds accompanied the crisp-skinned Müllerin-style trout (€29), itself smothered in butter and a showering of hazelnuts instead of the usual (and less sustainable) almonds. Szegediner mushroom goulash with bread dumplings was another winner, its flavour so intense that I’d be surprised if Ursus didn’t have a paprika guy in addition to his boar guy. The only dish that didn’t completely convince my table was the vaunted Königsberger Klopse. Germans have raved about Trio’s version of the Prussian favourite, but to me, the combo of fluffy meatballs and creamy mashed potatoes was so soft and mild that it felt like eating baby food. I’ll get crucified for saying this, but Tim Raue’s ‘elevated’ version might be better.
Those with limited belly room may also want to skip the filling salads that dominate the starter menu (save for the beet one, a must for vegetarians). But really, there’s no such thing as a bad order here. The same is true drink-wise. Natural wine aficionados will of course find much to love on the Germany- and Austria-centric list, but those who simply want to sip something will be satisfied with the rotating tap wines, which go as low as €4 a glass. Or a Landbier from Barnimer Brauhaus, not far away from Ursus’ fermentation workshop in Chorin.
If you can’t tell by now, I’ve bought into the Trio hype. It’s hard not to, especially after spending less than €50 a person and coming away a little tipsy and absolutely stuffed. For what it’s worth, my visitors loved it too – and so will yours. Just make that reservation now.
- Trio, Linienstr. 13, Mitte, Fri-Mon 18-23, trioberlin.webflow.io