Noel — Restaurant in City of Zagreb

I recently had a frustrating and confusing experience with this restaurant's reservation process, which I feel compelled to share.

After joining the waiting list online, I received a call from the restaurant to inquire about dietary preferences. During this conversation, there was no clarification about whether I had been moved from the waiting list to a confirmed reservation. The tone of the call, coupled with their comment that they looked forward to seeing us tomorrow, gave the impression that my reservation was secured. They did not explain how their reservation process works, nor did they mention that I should wait for an email confirmation of the reservation. This lack of clarity is compounded by the fact that their website does not explain the process either. Additionally, the restaurant never asked how many people were in my party, despite the fact that I had clearly selected 4 seats when submitting my online request.

The following day, I was bombarded with multiple phone calls from the restaurant throughout the morning. When I attempted to return their calls, no one answered, adding to the confusion.. Despite their persistence, they never followed up with a text message or email, which would have been a far more professional way to communicate such important updates.

When I finally connected with someone—just 15 minutes before the scheduled time—I was informed that a group of 18 people had confirmed, leaving no space for my party. If I was indeed still on the waiting list, it is unclear why the restaurant had called so persistently. It seems they were already aware that I was expecting to come that day, yet they had decided to prioritize accommodating a much larger group, leaving us without any options.

As we tried to resolve this over multiple calls, in a separate call with my wife, the restaurant claimed that one seat had been actually reserved for the vegetarian guest we had discussed during the initial call. As I said, I made an online booking for 4 people, and not just for 1, and it seems they never checked that, but assumed it is just one person because we discussed only his dietary preferences.

To make matters worse, my friend, who was near the restaurant at the time, went in person to confirm this supposed single seat, only to be told there was no reservation at all. This left my friend doubting me, which was both embarrassing and deeply frustrating.

The confusion didn’t end there. In the same call with my wife, the restaurant suggested that seats might become available an hour and a half later, and they promised to call back to confirm. That call never came. When I followed up, I was told this would not be possible because they plan their meals and ingredients in advance. If this were true, why even suggest it as a possibility in the first place?

All these inconsistencies point out a lack of internal communication and organization.

The restaurant offered a discount as a form of apology. While this might seem like a kind gesture, it came across more as an afterthought than a sincere effort to address the disorganization and inconvenience they caused. While I was initially interested in dining there, the discount does not feel significant enough to compensate for the stress, frustration, and emotions caused by this experience. This ordeal has left me with a negative memory of the restaurant, and the idea of returning for a small discount, simply doesn’t feel right.

Dining at a Michelin-starred restaurant should be a seamless, memorable experience, not a source of stress and confusion. This entire miscommunication, lack of professionalism, and broken promises—not only ruined our night but also impacted my perception of what a Michelin star represents, and even affected a personal relationship.

If you truly want to meet someone, going to a restaurant just because it is the most expensive one shouldn't be a...

My girlfriend and I booked a Valentine's Day dinner at Noel, expecting a refined experience worthy of its Michelin star. Unfortunately, what we encountered was anything but.

I made our reservation weeks in advance and was contacted twice to reconfirm, once a week after booking and again just days before the dinner. We arrived at 9:10 PM for our 9:15 PM reservation, only to be left standing awkwardly at the entrance with no immediate greeting. When I addressed a hostess in Serbian, she responded in English that she did not understand me and went to fetch another staff member. This was already an odd start for a fine-dining restaurant in Zagreb.

We were then informed that the restaurant was overbooked and that we would have to wait for a table. While they did offer complimentary drinks, we were placed at an uncomfortable side table and left waiting for nearly 20 minutes. At that point, we would have left if alternative fine-dining options hadn’t already been fully booked for Valentine's Day.

Once seated, I voiced my disappointment to a staff member who was at least somewhat understanding, but by no means sincerely apologetic. However, what followed was even more unpleasant.

The head chef and owner approached our table shortly after we were sat in a manner that, simply put, felt confrontational rather than hospitable. He introduced himself briefly before getting straight to the point, asking what the issue was. But when we explained, his response was anything but reassuring. He brushed it off, downplaying the situation and pointing out that we had been given free drinks, as if that should have made up for. The implication was clear—our complaint was unwarranted in his eyes. Instead of acknowledging the missteps or offering an apology, he made us feel as though we were the ones at fault for expecting better. The interaction wasn’t just disappointing; it was deeply uncomfortable, leaving us with the sense that our concerns didn’t matter.

After what felt like a reprimand for even voicing our complaint, he abruptly shifted gears, asking how they could improve our experience. By that point, the damage was done. I told him that his very approach—on top of everything else that had already gone wrong—only added to our discomfort, making an already disappointing evening feel even worse.

To illustrate my point, I tried to use an analogy: dining at a Michelin-starred restaurant should be like attending a concert by a world-class pianist—one expects a flawless, immersive performance from the very first note. Instead, our experience felt like the pianist opening with a clumsy, lengthy series of dissonant tones, leaving the audience bewildered. In response, Mario merely remarked that concerts often start 15 minutes late, entirely missing the essence of my point. In a true fine-dining establishment, the "music" begins the moment a guest steps through the door and does not end until they leave. Noel had already fumbled its opening movements, and no encore could redeem the experience. Hospitality at this level is not just about the food—it is about creating an unbroken symphony of excellence. When that harmony is disrupted, the magic is lost, and what remains is a performance unworthy of its stage.

Regrettably, given the poor hospitality, the dismissive attitude of the owner, and the overall lackluster experience, we will never return and certainly cannot recommend Noel to others.

P.S.

I found the food to be decidedly mediocre. There wasn’t a single bite that felt exciting or interesting, except for a piece of honey-glazed bread, which reminded me of something we often have in Serbia for a Slava—a fleeting moment of comfort amid an otherwise...

I’ll admit, I was skeptical walking in. Seasonal “creative” menus at one-star restaurants can feel like try-hard experiments that collapse into the same clichés. Noel switches its menu every three months, and since I arrived just after their transition to the Autumn Experience, I half-expected a lineup still in beta mode. Instead, zero misses.

I came in on a Monday night, and the dining room was calm but not empty. Service was courteous yet warm, and the pacing was spot-on. Alongside the seasonal tasting menu, I added their signature trout dish and the non-alcoholic beverage pairing.

The food was fantastic. Refined and technically flawless. The pairings, however, were mediocre at best. Each drink felt like a variation on lemonade, and few seemed to connect meaningfully with the dishes. Not offensive, just uninspired.

Amuse Bouches - The best I’ve had in my recent memory. Potato chip, fried parsley, and orange gel combo was really good. Convinced me to add their signature trout dish.

Leek Cappuccino - Shrimp, shrimp butter, peas, capped with a leek foam. The peas dominated, the shrimp butter gave just enough umami, and nothing overwhelmed.

Noel Štrukli - Wish I got to experience the traditional Croatian cuisine before this. This was my first time trying Strukli, so whatever I say might not be accurate. Typically a heavy cheese-filled dumpling, here it became something closer to a raviolo. Caramelized butter sauce and milk powder brought layered sweetness and creaminess, almost addictive. The milk powder in particular made it so satisfying, though that might just be my milk bias.

Trout with Elderflower & Wine Sauce- Might be the best trout dish I’ve ever had. Most trout courses rely on the fish’s quality and stop there. The sauce used here was intensely aromatic, sweet, and umami all at once and still kept the trout flour floating around on the palate.

Mushroom Tartlette - Chef Mandarić seems to love crispy herbs. First parsley, now crispy kale (which are rarely used in fine dining because of bitterness). However, he seemed to know how to merge it. The portobello tart shell added another bitter register, and without drowning the scallops, the bitterness layering made the dish more interesting.

Carrot Croquette - Soft carrot base, caramelized carrot cream, shiitake chips, Dalmatian herb sauce, and plum-wine gel. Texturally more like a spongy pastry than a croquette, but the mix of mild earthiness and bright gel acidity made it enjoyable.

Langoustine Cappelletti - Perhaps the most predictable dish of the evening, but still good. Foam and bisque made from the shells carried langoustine depth, and since the cappelletti fillings weren’t too strong, it balanced out.

Sea Bass with Pil Pil - My favorite dish here. Slow cooked in 50 degree oil and minimally seasoned. Mostly spring onion and bread crumb powder. The inside of the sea bass was seemingly undercooked, which gave that sashimi-like bounce instead of flaky fish. Almost like eating a sea bass fillet raw, but I loved it. Since they used almost zero salt on the fillet, that natural sea bass flavor was way...