Joachim Wissler: Key figure in German haute cuisine

Kann man Lebensklugheit schmecken? Falls es so ist, verbirgt sich ihr Aroma in den fünf filigranen, kulinarischen Kleinkunstwerken, mit denen uns die Küche grüßt: dem Tomaten-Baguette mit Bellota-Schinken aus Jabugo als dekonstruiertem „Pan con tomate“, dem Rindertatar mit gelierter Bouillon und Imperial-Kaviar, dem getrüffelte Waldorfsalat mit Tannenwipfeln und Staudensellerie, der Tartelette von der Roten Bete mit Taschenkrebs und Wasabi-Mayonnaise, dem Cupcake mit australischem Lachskaviar, Sauermilch und Meerrettich. Es ist ein Quintett so unangestrengt tiefgründig, so ungezwungen harmonisch, so unaufgeregt raffiniert, dass es nach nichts anderem als delikater, souveräner, altersweiser Lebensklugheit schmeckt – was kein Wunder ist, denn ihr Schöpfer hatte mehr als genug Gelegenheit, Klugheit in seinem Leben zu sammeln.

So lässt Joachim Wissler das Menü in seinem Restaurant „Vendôme“ im Schloss Bensberg bei Bergisch Gladbach beginnen und gibt damit das Motto des Abends vor. Er kocht vollkommen frei von Moden und Doktrinen allein nach den Glaubensgrundsätzen seines eigenen kulinarischen Katechismus, schöpft dabei aus dem gesamten Repertoire der globalen Spitzenküche und spart sich und uns die lästige Mühe, irgendjemandem irgendetwas mit lärmendem Aplomb beweisen zu müssen. Die grandiose Langoustine royale muss keine akrobatischen Volten vollführen, sondern darf ganz in sich ruhen und wird so dezent wie ehrfürchtig nur von grünem Spargel, grünem Apfelpüree, einer Spargel-Vinaigrette und einer Nage aus Krustentieren, Gin und Limone begleitet. Der Imperial-Kaviar liegt minimalistisch auf einer kostbaren Brosche aus Schwertmuschel-Carpaccio und Sauermilch-Sud, alles andere wäre Chichi. Und die Spitzmorcheln werden erst mit einer Morchel-Duxelles gefüllt, dann mit Vin Jaune aromatisiert und schließlich von nichts anderem als gebratenem weißem Spargel, Spargelsalat und einer luftigen Wolke aus Spargelsaft arrondiert.

It is a cuisine whose virtuosity is not diva-like, whose sovereignty is not self-satisfied, which would be difficult to imagine in a person like Joachim Wissler. “I come from a farm in the Swabian Alps, and it taught me all my virtues in life, humility and discipline, modesty and respect for nature,” says Wissler, who discovered his passion for cooking as an apprentice at the Traube Tonbach in Baiersbronn – without knowing what role he would play in the history of German taste.

After his years of travelling in top restaurants in Baden-Württemberg, he earned two Michelin stars in the Rheingau in 1996, moved to the “Vendôme” as head chef in 2000, received his third star in 2006, received top marks from all other restaurant guides and became a key figure in the emancipation of German top cuisine from the shackles of the classic French models. It was Wissler who instilled in it the self-confidence without which a whole generation of chefs today would not be able to cook German food as naturally as Marco Müller in Berlin, Sven Elverfeld in Wolfsburg or Felix Schneider in Nuremberg.

But in 2021 came the shock of his life, the Armageddon of every top chef: to the astonishment of large parts of the German gourmet scene, the Michelin Guide stripped him of his third star because it no longer found his flavor compositions plausible – a maximum punishment that hardly any of the other restaurant guides followed and that would have doomed other top chefs. But Joachim Wissler was wise enough to simply carry on, as he had learned on his farm, even if the pain was colossal and the thorn remains in his flesh forever. He shows us that he has not lost his love of cooking, that the lightness has not given way to melancholy, with the wonderful trout from the famous Birnbaum fish farm in the Lechtal, which is accompanied by dill oil and farmer’s cream simmering on the grill for two hours – although this care and appreciation for seemingly simple ingredients such as cream are also a legacy from the Swabian farm.

There is no stagnation or resignation in the “Vendôme” and certainly no aberrations in taste – the Michelin must have seen ghosts. The sommelier experiments with a highly complex, non-alcoholic beverage accompaniment, the patissière deconstructs carrot cake with astonishing skill to create her own version with carrot sorbet, caramelized pecans and fermented Marrakesh lemon. The chef has studied the art of vegetarian cooking intensively and creates a sensational dish in his own menu of beech mushrooms, tarragon oil, mimolette velouté and radicchio and celery ravioli with a dough as fine as tissue paper. And the sous chef comes to the table with a saddle of venison that he has dipped eight times in beeswax and which now rests in it like in a wild animal sarcophagus. The loin matures in wax for seven days, giving off the last hint of skin flavor, but does not become crumbly itself, but remains wonderfully firm – and is then served with umeboshi cherries, venison dumplings, smoked pistachio cream, miniature kohlrabi and a Rouennaise sauce.

With plates like these, Joachim Wissler shows that he is at the zenith of his work, not the epilogue of his career. “I am 61 now and I work more than ever because you can’t just stop cooking at our level. It’s not a job, it’s a way of life, and it’s the same on the farm,” says Wissler, who still enjoys getting on his racing bike and racing through the Bergisches Land. With his fellow athletes, he can at least rely on the Germans’ ignorance of their very best chefs. What he does for a living and whether he has two or three stars doesn’t interest anyone, says Wissler and smiles, to the others he is simply Joachim.