Step into Datenbank and the outside world fades, replaced by a softly lit cavern of stone and shadow. The room is sculpted with raw, handmade stoneware that feels at once elemental and finely considered, enveloping guests in a hushed, tactile atmosphere. Here, data is not digital; it is memory—carefully deconstructed and reassembled as a tasting menu that privileges sensual intelligence over spectacle.

The culinary narrative is a rare harmonic convergence of Sichuanese and Mexican traditions, interpreted with deft restraint. Chili heat is not a blunt force; it’s a gradient—numbing spark, smoky ember, lingering warmth—woven with citrus brightness, toasted spice, and fresh herbs. Each course builds on the last, coaxing out familiar signals—peppercorn, epazote, masa, fermented notes—then refracting them into new textures and temperatures. The effect is both nostalgic and futuristic, like recognizing a beloved melody in an unexpectedly refined key.

Service is calibrated to the rhythm of the room: present, informed, and quietly anticipatory. Wines are curated to finesse the menu’s heat and acidity, while the house-brewed kombucha, in limited seasonal expressions, offers an elegant counterpoint—silken, aromatic, and gently effervescent. These pairings illuminate the cuisine’s structure, extending flavors in long, seamless arcs.

Datenbank is dinner-only, and intentionally so. The single set menu focuses attention, delivering an experience with the coherence of a great album: distinct tracks, one story. It’s a place for travelers who collect flavors like fine art—seeking the rare, the thoughtful, the beautifully executed. Leave with your palate awakened and your culinary memory subtly rewritten; the data, once scattered, returns as something exquisite and whole.