Calling a Reuben a ‘sandwich’ is kind of like calling a Bentley a ‘car’ – technically true, sure, but playing in a whole different league. Packed with salted beef, coleslaw and Russian dressing, this New York classic is in a category of its own. In Berlin, it reached full-on cult status back in 2012 when Mogg, a deli in a century-old, red brick former Jewish girls’ school in Mitte, levelled up the sandwich game with their own take: trading corned beef for insanely delectable homemade pastrami. Then came the break: they closed two years ago. It was the end of an era. But now, in a welcome plot twist, Paul Mogg’s masterfully crafted sandwiches are now back on the city’s menu. And yes, they’re just as addictive as you remember.
Germany has a deep and complex relationship with sandwiches. One thing any newcomer notices in this country is just how much bread the Germans go through. We’re talking Butterbrot for breakfast, Abendbrot for dinner and somewhere in between, a little soup – with bread – and maybe a pretzel as a snack. German bread culture even scored a spot on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage list in 2015. Can you blame them? Bread isn’t just food in Germany; it’s a way of life. With more than 3,200 varieties on the books, from dense, dark rye loaves to light, fluffy white breads, they’ve got the whole spectrum covered.
Let’s not forget the cult of the daily Brötchen – small in size and huge in status. Step into your average bakery and you’ll spot a whole lineup of sandwiches. But look a little closer and you’ll notice a pattern: the bread keeps changing, but the fillings? Not so much. It’s the same old routine: cheese, ham, salami, with a slice of lettuce or tomato thrown in for good measure. In a German sandwich, the bread calls the shots; everything else just plays along.
There was a time when a good sandwich in Berlin only meant super-fresh Matjes herring tucked into a bun.
In the Anglo-Saxon world, especially in the US, sandwiches are a big deal. But they play by a completely different rulebook. If anything, the bread plays second fiddle. The inside is what steals the spotlight, and thanks to a melting-pot culture, the options are pretty much endless. You’ve got Eastern European Jewish pastrami, Italian-American tomato and meatball, dripping with sauce, or the French-born, Vietnamese-evolved banh mi packed with punchy pork belly and fresh herbs. The more layers and the more flavour, the better.
These days, Berlin is very much in on the action. You can start to find more sandwich varieties all over the city. It’s no accident. With the current economic climate, people are looking for food that ticks all the boxes: affordable, high-quality and filling. But it wasn’t always this way. There was a time when a good sandwich in Berlin only meant super-fresh Matjes herring tucked into a bun.
In 2012, when Paul Mogg teamed up with his (now former) partner Oskar Melzer, they overhauled the sandwich game with Mogg & Melzer. Veterans of Berlin’s nightlife scene – club owners, DJs and well-connected insiders – they brought a distinctly New York deli vision to the table. At first, they thought they could source key ingredients like pastrami. But nothing on the European market came close to what they had in mind, so they went all in and started making it themselves. It wasn’t the easy route, but it paid off. With a little help from chef friends and some New York know-how, they nailed it. The result was a spot that felt both authentic and fresh, like a slice of NYC with a Berlin crust.
After a few years, the owners went their separate ways, but Paul Mogg kept the location in the former Jüdisches Mädchenschule at Auguststraße and ran it on his own from 2016. They made it through Covid and the challenges that followed, but a change in ownership of the building was a different story altogether. In 2023, Mogg was shown the door and forced to close for good.
On Reddit and across the internet, Berliners have been mourning Mogg’s pastrami Reuben ever since. For a long time it felt like those hopes were going nowhere, especially as the sandwich scene has moved on at pace. Beyond Japanese katsu-sando and Korean egg brioche, 44Brekkie’s wildly popular EggDrops, Romeo’s sensational chicken melt and the creations of Joe Parenti at Smooches all point to one thing: when it comes to sandwiches, Berlin is on the right track.
Then last September, Kalle Halle opened as Neukölln’s newest hotspot. By January, those in the know had spotted a familiar face at the front counter: Paul Mogg.
After nine months of persuasion, the developers of the former Quelle building finally convinced him to start fresh – this time in Neukölln. It’s new territory for him, sharing a food hall with other concepts, but as he puts it, “the mix of different profiles only makes the whole place stronger.” There’s been no official social media announcement, just a quiet buzz that Mogg is back. Paul seems perfectly fine with that, preferring to let the food do the talking.
While the house-made pastrami Reuben makes it a must-visit, the menu has plenty to keep people coming back for more. The meat and vegetable schnitzels, tucked into fluffy Japanese shokupan (milk bread), are every bit as tempting as the classic thick-patty Wagyu truffle burger. The breads, sauces and pickles are still made in house; even the potatoes for the triple-cooked fries are hand-cut, like in a Portuguese tasca. The sandwich itself remains spot-on, with flavours that work in harmony, its ingredients perfectly balanced. So, will the Reuben ever return to its original location in Mitte? Paul responds with a smile and a determined, “It’s on.”
Visit Mogg in Kalle Halle and follow them @kallehalle.berlin
