TANN visits: headchef Robin Nissen of Qui

A chef, a neighbourhood restaurant and an apron made his own

There is something fitting about finding Qui31 on Suarezstraße. Charlottenburg around Lietzensee is not where Berlin usually sends you in search of the city's newest restaurant opening. It feels residential, established and slightly removed from the constant circulation of new places further east. Qui31 sits comfortably within that environment. It is ambitious without behaving like a destination restaurant, serious about food without requiring the rituals traditionally associated with fine dining.

Owner and host Alessandro Francioso opened the restaurant in 2024, bringing with him a family background in Italian gastronomy and his own experience in Berlin hospitality. The kitchen is now led by Robin Nissen. Their approach is deliberately loose around the edges: dishes are intended for sharing, vegetables are given as much consideration as fish and meat, and pasta remains a recurring part of the menu, reflecting Francioso's Italian roots. It has already earned Qui31 a reputation as one of the more interesting additions to this quieter corner of Berlin.

For Robin, the kitchen at Qui31 is the continuation of a path that began at Cordo. He trained there and later became sous chef, working in a kitchen known for precise, modern cooking before eventually taking over as head chef at Qui31 in early 2025. At Qui, that technical background has become something more relaxed. His cooking is described through combinations that are carefully constructed but rarely feel overly intellectual. A plate might move between fermentation, acidity, richness and something unexpectedly familiar. The ambition is visible, but it does not have to announce itself.

That attitude was one of the things that made us interested in Robin in the first place.

We first came into contact with Qui31 through our aprons. The restaurant had chosen aprons in taupe for the team. Robin eventually wanted one of his own, a heavy canvas working garment intended to become softer and more personal through use.

Not a different apron entirely. A more specific version of the same one. That distinction matters to us.

Bespoke can easily become an exercise in addition. Another detail, another pocket, another visible sign that something has been customised. Robin's apron developed in the opposite direction. We started with the needs of someone who spends long days in a professional kitchen and adjusted only what had a reason to change.

The chest pocket became longer. The lower pockets disappeared. The overall length was increased to give him more coverage while working. The heavy taupe canvas remained. The result still clearly belongs to the same family as the aprons worn around him at Qui31, but its proportions and details belong specifically to Robin.

And then there is the smallest detail.

Embroidered onto the apron is 42.

It is a reference to Tempelhof, where Robin comes from. There is something we particularly like about that choice. From a distance, the number means nothing. It is not a logo and it is not there to explain itself. To most people in the dining room it will probably remain simply two small embroidered digits on a work garment. To the person wearing it, it connects the object to somewhere specific.

That is perhaps what personalisation should do.

Robin grew up in Berlin and his connection to Tempelhof gives the apron a biographical element without turning it into a costume. The number is quiet enough to belong in a kitchen and personal enough to make the garment unmistakably his.

He had also described the apron as a small reward to himself. We liked that idea immediately.

Kitchen work is physical and repetitive. It is early preparation followed by pressure, heat, cleaning, repetition and another service. Much of what makes a restaurant good happens long before a guest sees a finished plate. In that environment, the objects surrounding you matter. The knife that always sits in the same place. The spoon you instinctively reach for. The shoes that have finally moulded themselves to your feet. The apron you tie on without thinking about it.

Good working clothes become part of that rhythm.

They should protect you. They should carry what needs carrying. They should allow movement. And after a while, ideally, they should disappear from your attention completely.

The canvas changes too. At first it is heavy and structured. Washing, heat, movement and repeated use begin to soften it. Creases establish themselves around the body. Areas that are constantly touched become smoother. Marks appear. A professional kitchen accelerates all of this. What leaves our hands as a relatively pristine object gradually becomes a record of somebody else's work.

For TANN, that transformation has always been more interesting than keeping something perfect.

It is also why Robin felt like a natural person for the Bespoke programme. A bespoke working garment becomes meaningful through specificity, but even more through use. The choices made at the beginning provide the framework. Everything afterwards is added by the wearer.

Qui31 itself works in a similar way. There is technical knowledge behind the cooking, but the restaurant does not feel interested in demonstrating technique for its own sake. Nissen has considerable freedom over the kitchen, while Francioso concentrates on the room, the guests and the wine. Pasta is one of the few constants. Everything else can move with season, ingredients and curiosity. The current reputation of the restaurant has been built around precisely that balance between ambition and ease.

It makes the place feel personal.

And perhaps that is the connection we keep finding between the people we visit for TANN. They work in very different disciplines, but they tend to care deeply about details that other people may never notice. A millimetre here. A particular ingredient there. The position of a pocket. The weight of a cloth.

None of these decisions matters very much in isolation.

Together they become a way of working.

Robin's apron is one example. Heavy taupe canvas. A longer cut. Fewer pockets. One pocket made specifically for the way he uses it.

And, stitched quietly into the fabric:

42.

A little piece of Tempelhof in a kitchen by Lietzensee.