German top gastronomy: Visiting the feel-good kitchen

At first glance, Piesport still appears to be the idyllic Moselle village of Schanz's childhood. But since March 9, 2022, something has changed here. The place is still tranquil, but it's suddenly at the top of the culinary world map; if the chef here didn't reject such opulent delicacies, one could even say it's on a par with Stockholm, Rome, or Berlin, all of which also have three-star restaurants. For the chef and winemaker's son, Thomas Schanz, 45, was awarded his third Michelin star that day. That same evening, a storm of reservations hit the "Schanz" restaurant: "The whole family was on duty, sometimes answering three phones at once." Within two days, the restaurant was fully booked for nine months. "It was fantastic, but also chaotic," Schanz recalls. "We weren't prepared for such an onslaught."

But such an award is not quite as surprising as Schanz makes it out to be. Anyone who has followed the chef's career has seen how calmly, thoughtfully and focused he worked his way to the top. A year earlier, the Gault & Millau restaurant guide had named Thomas Schanz "Chef of the Year." What sets him apart from many other successful chefs is perhaps how quietly he deals with honors and ambition. Yes, he says hesitantly, it is true that the third star was "a really big dream come true," but he insists he was still surprised when it happened. You believe him.

After all, for a long time, he didn't even realize he would become a chef. He trained as a hotel manager and was happy in the job. His boss saw him "somewhere in management," but advised him to pursue culinary training first so he could later assess this field as a restaurant manager. "He even drafted my application back then. And when I was standing in the kitchen, I realized that I didn't want to do anything else but cook."

And his rise to become one of the world's best chefs doesn't seem to have changed him all that much, even if a guest from Hong Kong occasionally flies in for a night just to eat at Schanz's. For example, the chef in Piesport still cooks the fish and meat sections in the kitchen himself, which is completely unusual at this level. Why does he do that? Why doesn't he delegate? "Because I simply love doing it." So why overthink it? And if the chef continues to cook the two most important sections in the kitchen himself, it also has pleasant side effects: the result is as perfect as he wants it every time. And besides, this leaves Schanz little time to make the rounds at the restaurant tables and be celebrated. That wouldn't be his style either.

There are fortunately very different opinions about which is the best three-star restaurant in Germany, but one thing is certain: By far the most unexciting is in Piesport. Is this assessment correct? Yes, he says, but that doesn't mean "there isn't excitement in the background."

The “Schanz” is a restaurant somewhere in the middle of nowhere

The chef prefers to let his dishes speak for themselves. Whether it's tuna belly cannelloni with cauliflower cream and trout caviar or cold souffléd gazpacho topped with olives, filled with veal tartare, and accompanied by lemon colatura sorbet – even the first few dishes demonstrate Schanz's masterful ability to combine flavors. A now-famous example of this is his legendary truffle egg, in which several Périgord truffle preparations combine in a meticulously seasoned blend, a kind of truffle indulgence at its peak.

Even foie gras, often associated with sweetness and heaviness, is surprisingly different in the Piesport version: It's layered and actually almost light in the mouth, thanks to the crispy textures of caramelized filo pastry and herbal notes that also convey a sense of weightlessness. In between, Schanz packs classic terrine and goose liver ice cream with fermented pepper, alternating with five-year-aged Gouda, anise cream, and—for freshness—the citrus aromas of grapefruit and blood orange. In the glass, there's no heavy sweet wine, but rather a light-footed yet aromatic Riesling Spätlese from the nearby Reinhold Haart winery—a tribute to the prime Piesporter Goldtröpfchen vineyard.

The light and airy restaurant is furnished in a contemporary yet unobtrusive style. The back wall is clad in Moselle slate, and cleverly placed cones of light perfectly illuminate the tables. Guests feel at home, though it's hard to say exactly why. Everything here seems somehow taken for granted. And yet, for a long time, it wasn't certain that Thomas Schanz would one day return to the small world of Piesport. He learned his trade in the finest restaurants: After training at the Traube Tonbach in the Black Forest, he cooked for two years with Klaus Erfort in Saarbrücken and for six years with Helmut Thieltges in nearby Dreis, both three-star restaurants at the time. "I absorbed everything I could there," he says. It was in these restaurants that the foundation was laid for his current cooking style, which is classically French in character but with a modern and light interpretation. During his time at Thieltges, where he was sous chef, Thomas Schanz finally decided that he had learned enough to start his own business, at home in Piesport, somewhere in the middle of nowhere between Trier and Cochem.

With his skills, Thomas Schanz would have had every door open to him. Gourmet cooking in rural areas has become difficult, especially when you're still a nameless chef. All the other recently crowned German three-star chefs – Tohru Nakamura, Christoph Rüffer, Edip Sigl – work in cities with millions of inhabitants or their catchment areas, and most restaurants of this caliber are backed by investors or large hotels. Schanz, on the other hand, had his parents, two hands, and a gut feeling that, in retrospect, proved him right: he opened in 2011, received his first star in 2012, and his second in 2016: "Every honor made me braver, allowed me to cook with more freedom," he says. He viewed the third star above all else "as an award for independence." That's important to him. Schanz says he consciously chose his apprenticeships based on whether the restaurants could sustain themselves, whether they "operate independently and profitably, without a patron in the background to offset the losses."

Schanz had already made a name for himself in the industry early on; not only his colleagues had noticed his sensitive fish cooking – and his sauce-making skills. Whether stock, essence, or extract, his sauces are mouth-filling in flavor, yet always very light, often with a subtle acidity. A grilled Portuguese carabinero, placed on raw celery, glazed with melted ox marrow, and garnished with parsley cress, is drizzled at the table with an intensely citrusy bergamot broth and a few drops of mint oil. The top chef drizzles the slice of wild turbot, briefly fried, with poached Gillardeau oysters, egg yolk pearls, and tomato compote, with juniper seaweed extract. He coats Atlantic merluza (hake) with dried papaya, while sea spinach, mint, and toasted rice provide both aromatic and textural accompaniment. A "Caribbean-inspired" broth is poured over it at the table, with fruity notes but without any kitsch. Everything seems natural, effortless – but only the chef himself knows the enormous amount of work, the many hours of experimentation and perfection that go into it.

At Schanz, many things are pleasantly different from those in most fine-dining restaurants. There's no PR hype here; the chef doesn't publish cookbooks, nor is he overly active on social media or seen at events like some of his colleagues: "I simply love being in my kitchen." This is why he can afford the luxury of offering his guests an à la carte selection alongside the tasting menu. In fine dining, which has recently been repeatedly criticized for its de facto menu-based approach, this is now an endangered species. Also rare and typical of Schanz are dishes that require considerable effort, classic craftsmanship, and à la minute preparation. For example, a reinterpreted rabbit potaufeu with roasted loin, kidneys, and liver. Or the poussin ballotine in a wafer-thin mushroom coating, stuffed with foie gras, spinach, and truffle farce, served with a potato and leek ragout, Périgourdine sauce, and sherry foam. Such pleasures have become rare. Schanz makes them seem so light and astonishingly modern.

Schanz is also something that is becoming increasingly rare not only in the German but also in the global gastronomy scene: a classic family business. The parents laid the foundation when they decided in the early 1990s to expand their winery with a small hotel so that guests no longer had to travel after the evening wine tastings. "I was always very impressed by how hard they worked for their success," the son remembers. Today, he does the same, involving everyone: his mother handles bookings and reception, while his father prepares breakfast the morning after the six-course meal. Both welcome guests with a genuine warmth that you almost forgot how good it felt. A small kitchen team of eleven people for a three-star restaurant, just ten tables, twelve guest rooms – the equation works. Schanz's wife Isabelle lends a hand wherever needed. The couple has a daughter.

And the now three-generation house remains fully booked, even three years after that day in March when Thomas Schanz unsuspectingly drove to Hamburg, only to return the next day as a three-star chef. And to cook world-class food without much explanation, as if he'd never done anything else.

There are now twelve three-star restaurants in Germany, more than ever before. One of the new top chefs is Christoph Rüffer from the Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten in Hamburg—who has also written a cookbook for home use, including a recipe for pesto pasta.