Isla

Right in the heart of Kreuzberg, so expect the usual crowd of young, heavily tattooed, gender-ambiguous regulars. The place is packed with tables, but the space itself is tight, meaning at peak hours you’ll be elbow-to-elbow with your neighbour. Lunchtimes in particular get busy. Music in the main room runs on the loud side; in the back it’s calmer, though the volume seems to rise and fall depending on how playful the staff are feeling with the playlist controls up front.

The food leans international—Korean-inspired gochujang here, something vaguely South American and spicy there. The decaf Americano, though, is grim: sour, unpleasant, and best avoided.