The scent of homemade antipasti and rich pestos once filled ‘Non Solo Vini’ on Uhlandstraße in Wilmersdorf. Now, an empty counter and stacked wine crates tell a different story. Salvatore Lanza Cariccio, the 73-year-old owner, stands amidst the remnants of his life’s work, searching for a piece of paper – a contact for the property owner, a last hope in a battle against an uncertain future. Since the turn of the year, the restaurant has been closed, a silent testament to a looming end. Only the sale of remaining wine from his cellar continues, a somber echo of past vibrancy.
A Stalemate: One Year Without a Lease
“Espresso?” Cariccio’s Italian accent, warm and inviting, cuts through the quiet. Even in this moment of uncertainty, the restaurateur’s hospitality shines through. He explains his predicament: for months, he’s been trying to secure a new lease for his delicatessen and restaurant, but the landlord remains unresponsive. The previous lease expired over a year ago, leaving him in a precarious position. His children even made a purchase offer, but to no avail.
This isn’t the first skirmish with the landlord. Six years ago, when the current owner acquired the building, an attempt was made to double the monthly rent. Cariccio, then with an option to extend his lease for another five years, successfully fought the increase in court. Relations have been frosty ever since. Despite the landlord’s apparent desire for him to leave, no one showed up for the handover appointment, and Cariccio continued to pay rent. Now, with the need for new display cases and other investments, the lack of a secure lease is a crippling blow. “With this uncertainty, I can’t invest,” he states, a hint of resignation in his voice.
From Capo d’Orlando to Berlin: A Life in Gastronomy
“This is where I wanted to spend my retirement,” says Cariccio, gesturing around the now-quiet space. His journey into the world of restaurants began 60 years ago in the Sicilian coastal town of Capo d’Orlando. “My friends were at the sea; I was behind the counter,” he recalls, painting a vivid picture of his early dedication. His training took him through Sardinia, Cortina, and Genoa before he arrived in Berlin in 1971. His ultimate dream? To be a head waiter at the Waldorf Astoria in New York. He believed that mastering the German language would open any door.
After stints at the Hotel Ambassador in London – which he dismisses with a wave of his hand, “They know nothing about good food” – and as an employee in a pizzeria, Cariccio ventured into self-employment. Success followed quickly, first in Lichterfelde, then at Bundesplatz, and later at Roseneck.
In the spring of 2004, when he spotted the vacant shop on Uhlandstraße, just meters from his home, he knew it was the perfect spot. A quick phone call and two days later, the contract was signed. The ceiling above him is adorned with football jerseys from various eras and countries, gifts from guests or his own cherished purchases. “But since football has become all about millions, the enthusiasm has faded,” he muses, drawing a parallel to the commercial pressures now threatening his own business.
The Broader Struggle: Commercial Rents and Changing Ownership
Cariccio’s struggle is not an isolated incident. A few months ago, he was shocked to see his property advertised online for €1.1 million. Rising commercial rents and frequent changes of ownership are increasingly squeezing Berlin’s restaurateurs. “Rising commercial rents, changes of ownership, and a lack of planning security pose major challenges, especially for owner-operated businesses,” explains Gerrit Buchhorn, managing director of the Hotel and Restaurant Association (DEHOGA) Berlin. Even established businesses, regardless of their success or importance to the neighborhood, can be forced out when leases are terminated abruptly or conditions drastically altered.
Across the street, several ground-floor shops have been empty for years. ‘Non Solo Vini’ itself was hidden behind scaffolding for almost three years during building renovations. “We somehow managed thanks to our regulars,” Cariccio recounts, highlighting the loyalty of his clientele. Now, with the scaffolding gone, only a dismantled lighted sign and empty display windows remain, a stark symbol of what might be lost.
A Restaurateur’s Spirit Undimmed
An elderly woman in a fur coat peers through the glass, hoping to buy wine. Cariccio, ever the host, insists she stay for an espresso. “Once a restaurateur, always a restaurateur,” he says with a wry smile. If ‘Non Solo Vini’ is indeed forced to close, he has no intention of retiring. “What would I do at home?” he asks, the thought clearly unbearable. First, a well-deserved vacation in Italy, where he plans to recharge and bring back that Italian joie de vivre. And if necessary, he’ll share it from behind another Berlin counter, his spirit undimmed by adversity.
This article was originally written and published on the 8th of February in German. It was translated into English with the use of Artificial Intelligence.
