1990 Vegan Living: What One Friedrichshain Restaurant Reveals About Berlin's Vegan Identity

When 1990 Vegan Living opened in January 2017 at Boxhagener Platz, Berlin already had a Vietnamese vegan restaurant problem. Not a shortage—an oversupply. Soy had been serving plant-based pho since 2015. Quy Nguyen was drawing crowds in Mitte. By the time the Cat Tuong family hung their hand-stitched Vietnamese wall hangings in their Friedrichshain corner space, "Vietnamese vegan" was becoming Berlin's version of Italian pizza: ubiquitous, reliably good, occasionally exceptional. Yet somehow 1990 became one of the most talked-about spots in a saturated market. The question isn't whether it's good. The question is: why does this particular restaurant matter?

How Berlin Created a Vietnamese Vegan Explosion
Berlin's vegan scene didn't happen by accident. Around 2010-2012, the city's already strong environmental consciousness collided with rapidly declining restaurant rents and an influx of creative internationals. What emerged was what food historians now call Europe's vegan capital: over 1,000 plant-based businesses and more than 100 fully vegan restaurants by 2025. The scene's defining characteristic? An overwhelming preponderance of Asian cuisine. Vietnamese restaurants specifically became "like Spätis," as one local food writer put it—one on every corner, all offering roughly the same thing.
The 2015-2018 period saw multiple Vietnamese vegan openings cluster around Friedrichshain and Prenzlauer Berg. Li.ke Thai Vegan launched in 2018 as Germany's first fully vegan Thai restaurant. Multiple Vietnamese spots adopted the tapas-bowl concept: order small dishes on paper slips, share everything, customize your meal. By the time 1990 opened, the format was already established. The family wasn't inventing; they were refining.

What You Actually Get for €6.50
Today, 1990 Vegan Living operates daily from noon to 11 PM with no reservations accepted. Walk in, grab a paper slip, mark your choices from about 20 tapas options at €6.50 each, add rice or noodles. Large bowls run €9.90. Cash only—no cards, despite it being 2025. The interior replicates a 1990s Vietnamese home down to hand-stitched wall hangings and deliberate period furnishings. "Everything you see here, you'd find exactly like this in Vietnam," owner Trung told a German food blog in 2017, explaining the family's commitment to authenticity.
The restaurant ranks in Tripadvisor's top 10% and draws consistent crowds. But read deeper and contradictions emerge. Reviews split between "best vegan meal ever" and complaints about overpricing, inconsistent quality, and dishes drowning in peanuts and sweet sauce. One recent review reported cold curry and "basically tasteless pumpkin puree." The Berliner, a local food publication, asked bluntly: "Don't all the dishes taste the same?"

The Real Tension: Legacy vs. Current Reality
Here's what makes 1990 complicated: it opened during the Vietnamese vegan boom but somehow became more famous than earlier pioneers. Part of this stems from location—Boxhagener Platz sits at the heart of Friedrichshain's vegan cluster, surrounded by Li.ke, Nyom, and other plant-based spots. The 1990s aesthetic gives it Instagram appeal that straightforward restaurants lack. The no-reservations policy creates artificial scarcity and lines, which paradoxically boost desirability.
But the criticisms reveal something deeper about Berlin's vegan evolution. In 2017, just being fully vegan and Vietnamese was novel enough. By 2025, diners have options. They've eaten at 15 other Vietnamese vegan spots. They notice when €6.50 bowls feel small, when flavors blur together, when the atmosphere is "hectic" rather than cozy. The restaurant that once felt like a discovery now competes on execution, not concept.
The family's approach—maintaining the 1990s theme, refusing cards, keeping recipes family-controlled—works until it doesn't. Some visitors cherish the authenticity. Others see a restaurant coasting on early buzz while newer spots innovate.

Why It Still Matters
1990 Vegan Living matters less for what it is than for what it represents: Berlin's transformation from vegan scarcity to vegan saturation in under a decade. The restaurant sits at the inflection point where "100% vegan Vietnamese" stopped being remarkable and became expected. Its success—18,000 Instagram followers, consistent crowds, Travelers' Choice awards—proves that in Berlin's vegan landscape, being first matters less than being accessible.
For visitors, 1990 offers a reliable entry point to Berlin's plant-based scene without requiring deep research. For locals, it's become a test: do you still go, or have you graduated to the lesser-known spots? The answer reveals how deep into Berlin's vegan culture you've traveled. Sometimes the most popular place is popular for good reason. Sometimes it's popular because it's popular. 1990 Vegan Living is probably both.







