In many ways Cologne is a city of contradictions. Having been obliterated by bombs it has rebuilt itself yet retained a stoic pride, where post-war Brutalism sits alongside the gothic wonder of the cathedral’s brooding towers. It is a study in pragmatism, endurance and re-setting of relations (especially with its proximity to Belgium, The Netherlands, France and Luxembourg).
As for whether its food and drink have any signature features, apart from their dinky glasses of kölsch and the hearty Himmel un Ääd (potatoes, apple and blood sausage), there is perhaps little that is truly unique about Cologne’s cuisine, but much like the reconstruction of this modern city, it has adapted. Certainly there are plenty of traditional restaurants and brauhauses in the centre serving typically stodgy, capillary-narrowing, pork-leaning dishes, but for anything at the daintier end of the spectrum you need to look, really, for somewhere French. I’ve been to Cologne a few times over the years – mostly as a hub for connecting trains through northern Europe – but with a longer stop this time I tried to venture out of the altstadt into the slightly insalubrious ‘student quarter’. Here I found the wonderful La Société in perhaps the last place you’d expect to find a Michelin-starred restaurant (and yes, yawn, it’s French, or at least French-inspired).
From the outside you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s some sort of dive bar. There are a few al fresco tables which reassure you it’s the right place, though given the amount of traffic on the Kyffhäuserstraße dining in a cloud of petrol fumes is not the most attractive idea. You’re better off dining indoors here, and I’m glad I did on this visit as their air con was mercifully set to 11 – just beyond “a tad nippy” to Siberian blizzard (Cologne can get blisteringly hot in the summer).
Inside, it’s a cosy, rectangular space, not unlike Noble Rot Soho’s ground floor, which is ideal for comfort because it means everyone gets a peripheral table with a view out to the restaurant, rather than being plonked conspicuously in the middle of the room (a pet peeve of mine). Despite its Michelin star, it struck me as having a neighbourhood in-the-know vibe, a little like Lorne in London or Littlefrench in Bristol (and these comparisons are the compliments they’re intended to be). The place also seems to have had a post-Covid design overhaul, unless my Googling deceived me: the exposed bricks, fan-shaped napkins, fairy lights and David Bowie posters have all been replaced by muted colours and padded seating designed by Monica Armani.
The staff have also perfected that trick of just knowing who you are as soon as you arrive (despite anonymity!), your personalised and translated tasting menu printed out and ready on your table. In fact, the service was fantastic throughout: the pace of each course, the friendliness and, as I’ll come to in a moment, letting you taste different wines before choosing. All of this to a background soundtrack of 80s Anglophone rock-pop, my internal Shazam clocking the likes of INXS, Talk Talk and The Waterboys at a low volume – discernible but never obtrusive.
Raw Ikejime sea bass with fennel, yuzu koshu, sour clover and finger limes
Beef fillet with an artichoke purée, grilled peppers, lettuce and braised Roscoff onion
Basil sorbet with braised peach, pineapple and pistachios
As for the food, chef Leon Hofmockel’s dishes are very well-executed, flavoursome, even occasionally thrilling, and very much vested in that Michelin-friendly style. The usual espumas, tweezered microherbs, sauces split with oils and enough amuses bouches to feed the five thousand were all very much in evidence, and little that shouted “Cologne”, but like I said, this is an open-minded and liberal city that embraces international influences.
The raw Ikejime sea bass with fennel, yuzu koshu, sour clover and finger limes was an intriguing opening gambit and delicious. Following this, Arctic char with a little caviar and beurre blanc was very precise, the fish flaking beautifully and requiring only minimal chewing, with just a subtle hint of Szechuan pepper. Excellent.
Continuing quite a fish-centric first half to the meal, mackerel, served deliberately lukewarm, with a white onion butter and vadouvan oil sauce was sensational.
Onto meat, fillet from a retired cow was cooked sensitively with an artichoke purée, grilled peppers, lettuce and braised Roscoff onion. The flavours and textures here all worked in harmony, though I’m not sure if the seepage of oil was intentional. Nevertheless, an impressive dish.
To finish, a delicate basil sorbet with braised peach, pineapple and pistachios. Perhaps this slightly less memorable course served as a general metaphor: everything here is great, though I feel Hofmockel and his team should feel free to push themselves and pay attention to every course being excellent.
Just one other minor bit of constructive feedback would be to improve the wine selection, more in the vein of Cornus in London or Lakeside in Hamburg, for example, where there are suggested wine pairings for the tasting menu but also a vast à la carte wine choice too. That said, within the confines of the limited bottles available, and contrary to what some misguided TripAdvisor “critiques” have said, the serving staff here were incredibly helpful in letting you try whatever they had open first if the suggested pairing on the menu wasn’t your cup of tea. They also have a decent back bar (pictured above) but they don’t really advertise their cocktails, which is a shame but not fatal. None of this negated an impressive, high-end French meal in Germany.
Leaving sated, pleasantly surprised and my wallet relieved of about 150 Euros, I concluded I just have to add La Société to my black book of recommended continental restaurants.
Kyffhäuserstraße 53
50674 Cologne
Germany
September 2025
