Kreuzberg- Trump-ish Food Critic Shits On Michelin Star Joint; Get Over Yourself!
Kreuzberg- Horvath, one of the leading joints in town and winner of Meisterköche recently suffered a thrashing at the hands of one of Germany’s most infamous food critics. None other than the grand inquisitor of the old-fart-dining coalition, Heinz “I know better” Horrmann. Considering some of the dubious assertions he has raised over the years and keeping in mind his affinity towards the old boys club as well as a well known admiration of Donald Trump, can we finally erect a tomb stone on this guy’s career?
Enough of this nonsense. We don’t go to a barber to have our tooth pulled. We do not go to a plumber to check out our gastro intestinal tract. So why are we still bombarded with this guys antiquated opinions? Let him go smooch his own toosh ’till kingdom come, and take his dumbass catch phrase with him.
“I was there twice now, that was the first and the last time for me.”
Sitting on his throne of bullshit, Horrmann laid into one of Berlin’s present day golden boys, Sebastian Frank, head chef of Horvath. Intimating that the restaurant does not deserve the Michelin Stars it holds. Because after all, don’t we all know that: “I KNOW BETTER Horrmann” is so much more qualified than the crew over at Michelin Guide. Granted, Michelin have not been reviewing restaurants for very long, only about 117 years, which is only about 7 years older than Heinz is already.
Mr. Horrmann your critiques, much like farts, generally give rise to two fleeting thoughts, and much like the farts, are themselves musical. First comes one from the great composer Jean Sibelius who eloquently said, “No statue was ever put up for a critique” and the second and perhaps more graphic of the two comes from the composer Max Reger who wrote in reaction to a nasty review, “I am sitting in the smallest room in my house, I have your review in front of me, and in a moment it will be behind me.”
Just as we will gladly put Trump behind us, we are all ever so eager for your disappearance into the ether. You represent the worst of what the dining scene has to offer, a stale, stagnant, museum industry opinion of a crusty old man hiding behind a gold watch, a fancy suit, and a greasy smile.
The bottom line is Mr. Horrmann, time to GoMann.