Landlady at Clärchens Ballhaus: “I only experienced the end of the GDR as a culinary liberation”
If it weren't so fashionable, you could almost mistake Claudia Steinbauer's overalls for overalls. Made of visibly robust material, with a zipper and flap pockets, the sleeves rolled up, practical, ready for action, ready to go .
So, when we meet Steinbauer on a sunny May day at Clärchen's Ballhaus, she's sitting in the shade of the beautiful courtyard, flanked by three audibly dedicated colleagues from the press team. A large event needs to be planned, and the conversations are almost tumbling over each other. "Where exactly should the caviar go?" one wants to know. "200 shot glasses and 200 espresso martini glasses," another lists – and above all: "We still need ice! Ice, ice, ice, ice!"
It's one of the first warm days of the year, and before she can sit down with us for a chat, Claudia Steinbauer asks for a little patience. "Just a few more minutes," she says in a gentle voice, as the sun casts pretty patterns on the garden table, covered with a jumble of open MacBooks and A4 printouts.
We caught a particularly busy day: Clärchen's Beer Garden is scheduled to open for the first time this evening. Not just for the first time this season, though, but for the first time since the Ballhaus opened its first gastronomic venture. Luna D'Oro, the new restaurant on the ground floor, opened just last September, where chef Tobias Beck now creates modern German cuisine. Claudia Steinbauer had long been considered the "soul of the house"—she's been the general manager and landlady for five years.
People lined up in the front every day, while in the back Russian housewives made pizzas in shifts.
The enterprising Berlin investor Yoram Roth bought the legendary house in 2018, extensively renovated it in 2024, and finally opened Luna D'Oro with Steinbauer as restaurant manager. But Clärchens Ballhaus, Luna D'oro, Yoram Roth – these are just the last few years of her career, which is peppered with some of the most impressive names in the German gastronomy scene. But we want to start our conversation at the beginning, right at the beginning, as we finally retreat to a winding wooden balcony behind the legendary Hall of Mirrors.
Born in 1972 in Karl-Marx-Stadt, now Chemnitz, Steinbauer had originally planned to study journalism in Berlin. "Improving the world through writing" – that was her dream, expressed with great youthful enthusiasm at the time. But like so many young people in the East , the fall of the Berlin Wall came between them: She was no longer able to take up her planned internship at the GDR radio station DT64 on Nalepastraße, "because it simply ceased to exist overnight."
While for her parents, whom Steinbauer describes as very convinced of the socialist ideas of the German Democratic Republic, their world had already collapsed at that time, their daughter, helpless in the face of the rapid changes, was also unable to experience the end of the GDR “at first as liberation at all” – “except in a culinary sense!”
At first I drove happily through the West, without really knowing where I was or where I wanted to go.
Her first temporary job in the restaurant industry took Steinbauer to a waitress position in the first pizzeria to open in Karl-Marx-Stadt after the fall of the Berlin Wall. "People were queuing up at the front every day, and in the back, Russian housewives were making pizzas in shifts; I had no choice but to carry out four huge plates at once." This was by no means too much for the young high school graduate. Quite the opposite: just as she stumbled into the new role, she quickly became fascinated by the lively activity between the kitchen and the tables.
From then on, this was to be her career: professional hospitality. In search of an apprenticeship as a hotel manager, she "happily drove through the West, without really knowing where I was or where I wanted to go." She finally found a position in the Siegerland region of South Westphalia, partly through her father's contacts. The new life plan, the new dream, would prove to be a real success: Thanks to a scholarship for gifted students, Claudia Steinbauer was able to attend school in Australia and Canada "to learn better English there."
Of her early jobs, however, one in Bern was particularly formative, she says, leaning back in her bistro chair, the creaky floorboards beneath her feet, a network of wooden beams and leafy branches above her head. While the "girl from the East" was still met with skepticism in the West German hotel, she says, in Switzerland she was perceived only as a German – like all her other colleagues from her homeland.
At least the Swiss treated us all equally, regardless of whether we came from the East or the West.
"The Swiss didn't exactly welcome us with open hearts, but at least they treated us all equally, regardless of whether we came from the East or the West," says Steinbauer. In the late 1990s, she held positions at the newly opened Taschenbergpalais in Dresden and at the Four Seasons in Berlin, later the five-star Regent Hotel on Gendarmenmarkt.
It was also in Berlin that the next big change began for the Saxon native: She had fallen in love with a man who, shortly after they met, had to relocate to South Africa for his job. Steinbauer visited her boyfriend there – and returned pregnant. After this first child, a daughter, came a son, who was born in South Africa. The small family lived there for a few years until Steinbauer's then-husband retired.
"When we returned, it quickly became clear that I simply couldn't continue a career in the hotel industry," she says. A business that requires shift work 24 hours a day, seven days a week – that was simply no longer feasible with two small children. So Steinbauer decided to switch to the barely less stressful restaurant industry, which at least has closing times.
The city was suddenly considered cool, but the pasta in the shop where I worked at the time still only cost 3.50.
Steinbauer describes the first years of the new millennium in Berlin as a wild, exciting, and fulfilling time. "The city was suddenly considered cool, even among foreign tourists; there were the first major fashion and art events, but the pasta in the shop where I worked at the time still only cost 3.50." It was a small Italian restaurant, the predecessor of today's Papà Pane on Ackerstraße.
From there, Steinbauer moved first to the Borchardt, then to the Grill Royal, and finally to the Adlon, where she held various, increasingly senior positions. At Berlin's most famous luxury hotel, she got along particularly well with two colleagues—so much so that the three of them forged a joint plan: In May 2019, they opened the Klinker restaurant in Hamburg, which also includes a Demeter-certified farm.
"It worked out great, and Klinker is still doing like crazy," says Steinbauer, and it almost seems as if nostalgia is creeping into her voice. But an offer from Berlin was simply too good to pass up: "When I heard they were looking for a new landlady for Clärchens Ballhaus, I was immediately hooked. Not only because I've always loved living in Berlin, but above all because I found the opportunity to run a place like that incredibly exciting."
Bringing a proper structure into it and still dancing a little on the volcano was incredibly appealing to me.
The ballroom lacked attention at the time, says Steinbauer. "One of my first acts was to put fresh flowers back on the tables and a few lamps on the counters—the place desperately needed love." But she ultimately liked the chaos she found here and there in the three-story historic building. "Bringing some orderly structure there, while still being a bit on the edge of the volcano because of the size and history of this building, was incredibly appealing to me."
Opened in 1913 in the rear building at Auguststraße 24/25 , the Ballhaus survived several political systems and two world wars – dining and dancing were sometimes held here amidst the ruins. The fact that the business continued almost seamlessly was likely due primarily to the tight organization of the eponymous landlady Clara Bühler, who ran the Ballhaus as a genuine women's business for several decades after the death of her husband.
Clärchen and Claudia, Claudia and Clärchen – it would be easy to build a bridge between the women who were both considered the "soul of the house" at the time, one then, the other now. But Claudia Steinbauer simply waves it off. "Clärchen worked under completely different conditions, with different challenges and responsibilities," she says. "I would find it presumptuous to compare that with my work today."
This part of the house's history has remained somewhat under-revealed, and I hope that someone will address it at some point.
She is particularly interested in how Clara Bühler continued to run the ballroom during the GDR era . "This part of the house's history has remained somewhat under-represented, and I hope that someone will properly address it at some point." Older guests at least occasionally shared small anecdotes.
Someone recently told her that in the 1970s, you couldn't really see any of the famous tinsel that used to hang in the dance hall because of all the cigarette smoke. Between rounds of foxtrots, people would order bratwurst and potato salad, which they would pick up from the kitchen hatch, stumbling through the thick smoke. And: "It's often said that Clärchen ran her ballroom with a heavy hand."
When asked whether that doesn't compare to her work today, Claudia Steinbauer responds with a bold smile. "Yes, yes," she says. "I think my colleagues would definitely say that I have a certain degree of strictness, but that you can always count on my support." Steinbauer's team currently includes 45 employees .
But the boss also pitches in herself, especially on weekends. She not only delegates, but also helps set up, set the tables, and prepare everything for guests. "And what I absolutely can't resist is watering the flowers," says Steinbauer.
"Being the first one here in the morning and being able to stroll through the courtyards in peace and quiet is a great joy for me." But the best part for her, the landlady, remains welcoming guests, being there, keeping track of everything. "I'm a hostess," says Claudia Steinbauer, "through and through."
Berliner-zeitung
