Heimat #5: Polpette (Nina Serra, Sardinia)
Heimat doesn’t translate. And perhaps it doesn’t need to. It isn’t a concrete place, but a feeling, something that lives in memory, through smell, taste, and texture. All of us carry it, none of us need to agree on it.
Each month, we cook a classic that tastes like one kind of Heimat – across different kitchens and biographies – inspired by the people we live and work with in Berlin, grounded in the produce of our region.
Heimat #5: Polpette (Nina Serra, Sardinia)
In fall, when the tomatoes are sweet and ripe and the relentless heat is, for once, actually good for something, our Heimat series turns to a dish that could only have come from somewhere appropriately sun-drenched: Polpette, meatballs in tomato sauce. This time, our recipe patron is Nina Serra, a friend of Billy’s who grew up in Sardinia.
Nina’s story, in some sense, is very much representative of a certain generation of “chosen Berliners”. She first set foot in our infernal city back in 2005 when, fresh out of university, she went to visit a friend who was here on Erasmus. You may or may not remember them, those glory days of “poor but sexy.” There was an abundance of space, art, parties; flats, too, were affordable, and a glass of predictably dreadful prosecco on ice would set you back no more than €2.50. Of course, looking back always comes with a degree of rose-tinted nostalgia, and sure, not everything was perfect. Yet, at least, much seemed possible. In any case, Nina landed at Schönefeld, made her way into the city, got off the train at Warschauer Straße, and immediately knew: “I’m free.” And then: “I’m home.” For the first time in her life, as she puts it.
All the same, there remains a connection to another home, one that smells and tastes like Polpette: her parents, in Sardinia.
Every time Nina heads back to Sardinia, she knows there will be a big pot waiting for her at home. The island itself, beautiful as it is, no longer carries the same emotional pull, she says. What does remain is something else entirely: her parents’ love, expressed through food and through this particular recipe. It evokes a feeling that is difficult to pin down – a deep sense of familiarity and belonging that exists more in the senses than in words.
Speaking of the recipe: like every true home-cooked classic, there are as many versions of Polpette as there are people making them. Nina’s mother’s recipe, she says herself, is neither particularly fancy nor especially elaborate. Her mother was always busy; dinner had to come together quickly, leaving little room for painstaking preparation or culinary flourishes. This left Nina a little uncertain, and she asked Billy and Micha, somewhat self-consciously, whether something as simple as her mother’s “meatballs in tomato sauce” even belonged in a Michelin-starred restaurant.
We think the answer is a clear, resounding yes.
In fact, we’d argue that supposedly simple dishes like this are exactly the sort of thing you should try in a Michelin-starred setting. Simplicity leaves you nowhere to hide; each ingredient has to be chosen meticulously, and has to be allowed to speak for itself. It’s not technical complexity that carries such a dish, but precision and immediacy. That’s when the simplest food becomes the most moving.
Even if we’re not in Sardinia, August gives us everything we need to do this dish justice. The veal, naturally, comes from Viola and David Peacock at Erdhof Seewalde. As for the tomatoes, we’ll simply choose whichever varieties come closest to the sweetness and depth of those Nina grew up with.
On the side, we serve lightly toasted sourdough from Sironi, with the kind of crust that immediately reminded Nina of traditional Sardinian civraxiu, the bread she always ate with Polpette at home.
And perhaps that is one thing we really can say for Berlin. Whatever else has changed over the past twenty years, the city has become a remarkably good place to eat.
What:
Heimat #5: Polpette (Nina Serra, Sardinia)
When:
Tuesday to Thursday, from August 11 until the end of September 2026.
6:00 p.m. – 8:15 p.m.
9:00 p.m. – end
Price:
€ 39.00 per person for a plate of Polpette in tomato sauce with toasted Sironi sourdough bread (seconds included), plus provisions for the road and Brita-filtered table water (still & sparkling).
You’re also very welcome to order additional courses from our current menu.
Booking:
Via the link.
Allergies & dietary requirements:
Of course, you’re welcome to bring friends who don’t eat meat. We’ll happily find them a suitable dish from our current menu, although there isn’t a vegetarian version of the Polpette itself. Allergens we unfortunately can’t avoid in this dish include alliums, lactose (milk), eggs, gluten, and veal.
Drinks:
Drink whatever takes your fancy – our drinks list is more than large enough. Or let us recommend something: we’ve put aside a few particularly exciting bottles and wines by the glass. And for anyone unwilling or unable to have a tipple, there are, of course, plenty of non-alcoholic options, including our much-loved cold infusion of lemon verbena.
Heimat #5: Polpette (Nina Serra, Sardinia)
Heimat doesn’t translate. And perhaps it doesn’t need to. It isn’t a concrete place, but a feeling, something that lives in memory, through smell, taste, and texture. All of us carry it, none of us need to agree on it.
Each month, we cook a classic that tastes like one kind of Heimat – across different kitchens and biographies – inspired by the people we live and work with in Berlin, grounded in the produce of our region.
Heimat #5: Polpette (Nina Serra, Sardinia)
In fall, when the tomatoes are sweet and ripe and the relentless heat is, for once, actually good for something, our Heimat series turns to a dish that could only have come from somewhere appropriately sun-drenched: Polpette, meatballs in tomato sauce. This time, our recipe patron is Nina Serra, a friend of Billy’s who grew up in Sardinia.
Nina’s story, in some sense, is very much representative of a certain generation of “chosen Berliners”. She first set foot in our infernal city back in 2005 when, fresh out of university, she went to visit a friend who was here on Erasmus. You may or may not remember them, those glory days of “poor but sexy.” There was an abundance of space, art, parties; flats, too, were affordable, and a glass of predictably dreadful prosecco on ice would set you back no more than €2.50. Of course, looking back always comes with a degree of rose-tinted nostalgia, and sure, not everything was perfect. Yet, at least, much seemed possible. In any case, Nina landed at Schönefeld, made her way into the city, got off the train at Warschauer Straße, and immediately knew: “I’m free.” And then: “I’m home.” For the first time in her life, as she puts it.
All the same, there remains a connection to another home, one that smells and tastes like Polpette: her parents, in Sardinia.
Every time Nina heads back to Sardinia, she knows there will be a big pot waiting for her at home. The island itself, beautiful as it is, no longer carries the same emotional pull, she says. What does remain is something else entirely: her parents’ love, expressed through food and through this particular recipe. It evokes a feeling that is difficult to pin down – a deep sense of familiarity and belonging that exists more in the senses than in words.
Speaking of the recipe: like every true home-cooked classic, there are as many versions of Polpette as there are people making them. Nina’s mother’s recipe, she says herself, is neither particularly fancy nor especially elaborate. Her mother was always busy; dinner had to come together quickly, leaving little room for painstaking preparation or culinary flourishes. This left Nina a little uncertain, and she asked Billy and Micha, somewhat self-consciously, whether something as simple as her mother’s “meatballs in tomato sauce” even belonged in a Michelin-starred restaurant.
We think the answer is a clear, resounding yes.
In fact, we’d argue that supposedly simple dishes like this are exactly the sort of thing you should try in a Michelin-starred setting. Simplicity leaves you nowhere to hide; each ingredient has to be chosen meticulously, and has to be allowed to speak for itself. It’s not technical complexity that carries such a dish, but precision and immediacy. That’s when the simplest food becomes the most moving.
Even if we’re not in Sardinia, August gives us everything we need to do this dish justice. The veal, naturally, comes from Viola and David Peacock at Erdhof Seewalde. As for the tomatoes, we’ll simply choose whichever varieties come closest to the sweetness and depth of those Nina grew up with.
On the side, we serve lightly toasted sourdough from Sironi, with the kind of crust that immediately reminded Nina of traditional Sardinian civraxiu, the bread she always ate with Polpette at home.
And perhaps that is one thing we really can say for Berlin. Whatever else has changed over the past twenty years, the city has become a remarkably good place to eat.
What:
Heimat #5: Polpette (Nina Serra, Sardinia)
When:
Tuesday to Thursday, from August 11 until the end of September 2026.
6:00 p.m. – 8:15 p.m.
9:00 p.m. – end
Price:
€ 39.00 per person for a plate of Polpette in tomato sauce with toasted Sironi sourdough bread (seconds included), plus provisions for the road and Brita-filtered table water (still & sparkling).
You’re also very welcome to order additional courses from our current menu.
Booking:
Via the link.
Allergies & dietary requirements:
Of course, you’re welcome to bring friends who don’t eat meat. We’ll happily find them a suitable dish from our current menu, although there isn’t a vegetarian version of the Polpette itself. Allergens we unfortunately can’t avoid in this dish include alliums, lactose (milk), eggs, gluten, and veal.
Drinks:
Drink whatever takes your fancy – our drinks list is more than large enough. Or let us recommend something: we’ve put aside a few particularly exciting bottles and wines by the glass. And for anyone unwilling or unable to have a tipple, there are, of course, plenty of non-alcoholic options, including our much-loved cold infusion of lemon verbena.