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Dallmayr and Käfer are separated by only two kilometers as the crow flies, and both actually have the same goal: to make sophisticated eaters happy by offering products that can’t be bought in the supermarket. And yet these two companies are worlds apart. No, it’s not only the colors – red for Käfer, blue and white for Dallmayr; it’s not only the philosophy. It’s the customers that set them apart. Granted, you see the famous Munich mix of deer-antler buttons/loden/cashmere in both houses. But there’s still a very specific clientele that feels at home in the nooks and crannies of Käfer’s fairy tale building on Prinzregenstrasse.
Käfer’s world: here you encounter slender ladies between 35 and 40 with bleached, perfectly styled Gerhard Meir coiffures, clever designer jackets, Prada handbags, and Rolex watches; sun-tanned men in tailor-made suits with the cell phone at the ear because the mistress is making a fuss again. And of course people from the tabloids. And so it’s more than a coincidence that on a Friday afternoon the grande dame of Salzburg, Marianne Fürsting zu Sayn-Wittgenstein-Sayn, nearly collides with actor Friedrich von Thun in front of the incomparable cheese counter – both preoccupied with the subtleties of the holiday menu.
The real theater takes place at Käfer’s. Perhaps instead of going to see socio-critical dramas at the Kammerspiele or witty social satires at the Resi, one should simply stand at the salad counter. This is where Marianne Weber has served [customers] with devotion and a keen eye for twenty-eight years; after all, she’s one of the most experienced specialists in the Käfer empire, which has already seen many renovations and new beginnings, even a loudly trumpeted public offering. You can learn a lot about Munich society here. For example, that some customers know from gourmet magazines that fresh Alba truffles, at 4.90 Euro per gram, only keep for two days, while other hobby truffologists are sure that the products will easily remain delicious for a week. “I can already tell from the expression on a customer’s face whether he wants to talk or just buy. With many, I know their names and tastes,” says Marianne Weber.
Of the more reticent sort is a gentleman in a black tweed blazer and Joop jeans; he’s carrying a basket with eight bottles of Aceto Balsamico, four packages of salmon, and a portion of truffles for 95 Euro. And if, just for the fun of it, you trail the female customers from the fish counter as they head outside, you can watch as athletic professional wives in their late twenties have employees carry cases of champagne to the Porsche, and then you can see them hold up a ten-Euro bill with pointy fingers and purr sweetly: “Young man, I wish you a very nice day!”
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