What was going on there, Max Strohe?

Getting to the restaurant to start the day, I go in through the back door and make my way through the dark dining area to the front entrance. I roll up the shutters and watch the sunlight pour in through the high windows and break across the bar.
I step out through the door and onto the terrace and behold my ‘adopted home’ with pride. 
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that something isn’t right. Red alarm. Fire engine red. Michelin red. Where for five years now the plaque from the Michelin Guide has hung, nothing remains but big holes and a pale outline. 
What do you do when the symbol of something that means half the world to you has been maliciously stolen in a crude act of vandalism?
The same thing we did when we were cooking our way to this award: get creative and roll up our sleeves. After a quick trip to the DIY market, we spray the star back onto the old building facade. Wild and free. In the true Berlin spirit, in the spirit of Kreuzberg. In the spirit of us.