- Written by: Chefluencer Editorial Team
Warsaw Grit, Parisian Rigour, and the Obsession of Art
Step inside Lukullus and the conventional notion of a classic pastry shop evaporates, replaced by a visual language of kinetic energy and high-gloss modernism. This year, the house celebrates its LXXX (80th) jubilee, a milestone marked not by a quiet retrospective but by a strike of magenta—the Roman numeral for eighty rendered in the "colour of rebellion, passion, and the future". In several locations, the windows have been tagged with graffiti-style logos, sparking a minor uproar in the conservative, leafy district of Saska Kępa and prompting the founders to issue a public apology to locals who found the aesthetic a step too far. Yet, for owners Albert Judycki and Jacek Malarski, this provocation is essential; they believe tradition is not a museum to be bowed to but a "trampoline to the future" that survives only through constant reinvention. Their vision is fixed not on 1946, but on 2046, choosing to tell the story of Lukullus from the perspective of an "imaginary great-grandson".
Three Generations of Craft
The history of this house is a survivalist’s epic that began in 1946 at the corner of Stalowa and Środkowa in Warsaw’s Praga district. Jan Dynowski, a pre-war master chocolate maker at the legendary Wedel factory, brought the rigour of old-world craftsmanship to a city still clearing its own ruins. He named the workshop Kremówka, later renamed Ptyś after the cream puff that became its signature. While the post-war years were unkind to the artisan, the shop survived the "cursed" era of communism through the quiet tenacity of the second generation. Jan’s wife, Stanisława Dynowska, and daughter, Halina Judycka, steered the business through the scarcity and grim standardisation of the PRL years, a time when the continuity of knowledge was nearly broken because raw materials were unavailable and production was dictated by official government "cake lists".
By the time the third generation arrived, the family business was, by Judycki’s own admission, a "picture of misery and despair". An ethnologist by training from the University of Warsaw, Judycki initially felt a sting of shame regarding his inheritance; while his peers built academic careers, he sat in a "zapyziała kanciapa" (dingy cubicle) in old Praga, counting doughnuts. The transformation began when he met Jacek Malarski, an actor and former TVN24 journalist reeling from professional burnout. This partnership turned the business into a shared obsession, and the pair treated their education at Le Cordon Bleu and Ferrandi in Paris as a total immersion, describing themselves as "vacuums" for culinary knowledge. Upon returning to Warsaw, they rejected the "luxury funeral home" aesthetic of elite boutiques like the jet-black Hugo & Victor for the bustling energy of shops like Gerard Mulot, where the smell of fresh croissants bridged the gap between film stars like Catherine Deneuve and children with their noses pressed against the glass.
The Philosophy of Bliss and the Three A’s
The owners describe themselves as "merchants of pleasure" (handlarze przyjemnością), a title rooted in a shared disdain for trashiness and a devout devotion to good taste. Their operations are governed by a ruthless trinity they call Apple, Audi, and American Gangster. Apple is selection without sentiment: discarding anything merely average to leave only the best. Audi is a constant adjustment, often invisible — a gram less sugar, a different proportion of vanilla — to ensure customer satisfaction never plateaus. The American Gangster principle is more direct: the commitment to a product so high-quality it becomes addictive, effectively outselling the competition through sensory dominance.
This philosophy was solidified during their 2009 rebranding, when they adopted the "Traditionally on Butter" (Tradycyjnie na maśle) manifesto. Inspired by a Parisian box from the Paul bakery labelled "pâtisserie pur beurre," they swapped margarine for high-quality fats despite a sixfold jump in costs. It was during this pivot that graphic designer Wika Wojciechowska suggested the brand’s signature colour: "If butter, then yellow!" They selected a cold, light shade that, by a twist of fate, perfectly matches the Warsaw flag.
Architecture as an Edible Blueprint
For the founders, art and architecture are the "logic" of the brand rather than decorative afterthoughts. They are deeply influenced by Marie-Antoine Carême, the 18th-century culinary visionary who famously considered confectionery a branch of architecture. While this thinking informs the precise composition of their pastries, it is most evident in their interiors, designed in collaboration with top Polish talent such as architect Marcin Kwietowicz. Their packaging also serves as a mobile gallery, featuring a permanent collage about Warsaw by the late celebrated artist Jan Dziaczkowski, which returns whenever seasonal illustrations are not in rotation.
This passion for visual education recently manifested in the Warszawskie Sklepy Cynamonowe (Warsaw Cinnamon Shops) project. Inspired by the surrealist stories of Bruno Schulz—the Polish-Jewish writer known for his dreamlike, mythological prose in which ordinary shops could become labyrinthine spaces of wonder—they collaborated with other local "merchants of beauty" to sell bliss. The project brought together Mood Scent Bar (Victor Kliors and Shota), fashion designer Ania Kuczyńska, Happa to mame (Marcin), and Jagg Jewels (Jagoda), all unified under a visual identity and illustrations by Aleksandra Czudzak.
The Modernist Rebirth of the Easter Figurine
The focal point of this anniversary Easter is a trio of chocolate sculptures—a rabbit, a lamb, and a chicken—that represent a significant technical and narrative leap for the brand. The story of these figures began with the packaging created for Easter 2025, which featured graphic, non-sentimental illustrations of animal motifs designed by Aleksandra Czudzak. These drawings were so successful that Judycki and Malarski were struck by a singular thought: "Why not make these three animals the stars of next Easter too, but as chocolate figurines?". This ambition was partly inspired by French traditions, where high-end chocolateries release seasonal collections of figurines that are as culturally significant as the mazurek is to Poland.
However, Lukullus had never produced chocolate figurines before, and they chose not to follow existing market templates. Instead, they opened a competition at the Sculpture Department of the Academy of Fine Arts (ASP) in Warsaw. The specific brief given to the students was to design figures in dialogue with the formal language of Ćmielów.
For foreign readers, Ćmielów represents the zenith of mid-century Polish design. While it is one of Europe’s oldest porcelain manufacturers, its real modernist significance lies in the 1950s and early 1960s. Designers working with the Institute of Industrial Design (IWP)—including Henryk Jędrasiak, Lubomir Tomaszewski, Hanna Ortwein, and Mieczysław Naruszewicz—developed a series of animal figurines that distilled form without draining it of character. Shapes defined by "radical simplification, organic shapes, asymmetry, and deliberate distortion". A broader European conversation about modernism, industry, and domestic life; the figurines were not mere decorations, but a modernist mission to visually educate society and "elevate the aesthetic quality of life" through mass-produced design that could reach every home. By invoking Ćmielów, Lukullus is participating in a historical project to bring high-calibre art into the domestic sphere, mirroring the owners' own philosophy of elevating everyday craftsmanship.
The winning student, Mateusz Podgajny, designed all three figures, capturing the "modernist gesture" while successfully translating the ceramic tradition into a "completely different matter". The transition was a gruelling six-month learning curve. Because Lukullus does not specialise in chocolate casting, every step was a technical battle: creating 3D models, executing test prints, and developing complex moulds for the Lubeca milk chocolate. The figures had to be re-engineered multiple times just to ensure they could actually stand on their own feet. The final result is a limited edition of 250 pieces per kind, hand-poured and hand-finished objects that sit naturally among mazurki whose surfaces are composed with architectural restraint.
The Showpiece of Warsaw
For the international visitor, Lukullus is a revelation of the sheer diversity of Polish sweets, which Malarski argues is matched only by France. Warsaw was a confectionery powerhouse before the war, and Lukullus has reclaimed that title by remaining fiercely local. They have famously rejected expansion to other cities, arguing that their "daily struggle for quality" cannot survive the journey to Kraków or Wrocław. They are a "proudly Warsaw patisserie," a showpiece for the city they call "the best in the world".
Standing in a Lukullus shop today, perhaps catching a glimpse of the owners, who still personally oversee every recipe, one realises that these figurines are part of the city’s "creative dynamism". They are a sharp reminder that excellence is a cost borne by the maker, not just the consumer. As the owners note, there are far easier ways to run a pastry shop; this is simply not one of them.
Practicalities
Locations:
ul. Chmielna 32 (Śródmieście),
ul. Francuska 16 (Saska Kępa),
ul. Mokotowska 52 (Śródmieście),
ul. Sienna 39 (Śródmieście)
ul. Lisowska 23 (Bemowo)
ul. Rozbrat (Śródmieście)
Westfield Mokotów, ul. Wołoska 12 (Mokotów)
Złote Tarasy, ul. Złota 59 (Śródmieście)
Opening hours: Hours vary by location; refer to official listings for current details