Soup & The First Schnitzel Roll

Week seven wasn’t about Hollywood lights—it was about the people who shape you when no one’s watching.

I reconnected with the man who first showed me that success doesn’t have to kill your heart. A former boss turned friend, who built his empire without forgetting where he came from—turning sterile German offices into family dinners with food from his childhood.

There was pumpkin soup simmering all day, waiting for us after a brutal workout with the friend who first pushed me into the gym. It tasted like gold. There was Tim’s house—nights of laughter, a legendary underground chemical-plant-turned-club in Wuppertal on its final breath, bass shaking our bones. There was silence, too: Tom Cruise on screen, a couch, a GoPro filming friendship in its rawest form.

And then Marcel. Starbucks talks. Hard truths. “Fuck the system,” he told me. “Make films independent. Do it raw.” And as if to seal it, we shared the first schnitzel roll of this series—vegan, messy, perfect. A symbol hidden in bread and grease.

The week ended not with fireworks, but with flowers. Quiet gestures. Proof that not every chapter needs to scream. Some just whisper, and the whisper stays with you.

👉 If you’ve ever felt family outside of blood, if you’ve ever eaten a meal that healed more than your body, this week is your story.