Diners are spoilt for choice at the Marylebone marvel.
I walked past Nina in London twice before I noticed her. It turns out there are several doors claiming to be 18 Thayer Street, and Nina's door didn't look much like a restaurant to me. This awkward first encounter made me wonder if we were meant to be. And yet, Nina, her Italian cooking and I were very happy together. Sometimes it pays to persevere with a wallflower.
It turns out that beyond this unassuming Marylebone doorway, and down a warmly lit stairway, lies a new, achingly chic restaurant. This basement eatery used to be Pachamama, a groundbreaking newcomer that helped to introduce Londoners to Peruvian food as the trend hit its stride 10 years ago. Pachamama's success helped to birth a family of London restaurants, which now includes Zephyr in Notting Hill and Chelsea's Bottarga. With another Pachamama now established in Shoreditch, the menu at this address has emigrated to the Med.
Nothing about the look and feel of Nina screams Italy, which will come as a relief if you'd rather not sit amidst Vespa memorabilia and red-and-white chequered tablecloths. For example, the gentle club beats soundtracking our meal were predominantly peppered with Middle Eastern references – a plucked qanun here, the beat of a dayereh there. And while the menu's structure mostly follows Italian convention – nibbles, followed by starters, pastas, meats and fish – there are a few tweaks. Nina in London doesn't serve pork, so there are cured wagyu beef slices instead of pancetta, and not a meatball in sight.
The dining room is painted in light, earthy shades and comprises several nooks and crannies, all lit by an army of small candles atop classic white tablecloths. It's like being in a food grotto. But this one also has a sleek, black dining counter and bar as its centrepiece, set beneath a row of glowing light installations that resemble some kind of ethereal sea creature. It's hard not to be drawn in, moth-like.
A standout dish was the Whole Grilled Seabass, doused in a vibrant sauce that cradled rich tomato with bursts of lemon, achieving a delicious balance between the two. The fish had just the right amount of bite to stand up to those flavours – no mushy, grey and lifeless flesh here. I very much urge you to order this.
Making pasta-related decisions was almost impossible – I have no idea how anybody is supposed to choose between Beef Shin Ragu and Black Truffle Mushroom Risotto – but our Bottarga Linguine earned its place at the table. It arrived with its strands carefully arranged into a tapered roll crowned with a bluefin tuna tartare cluster, like a majestic croissant. The pasta was on the delectably toothsome side of al dente, its briny burst of flavours comforting and rich.
If you decide to go for a blowout and order the Rib Eye Steak on the bone, it will be money well spent. Reassuringly huge, ours was cooked perfectly and emphatically underlined that this kitchen is fully committed to simple dishes delivered fantastically. Another standout was a side of Grilled Sweetheart Cabbage, which may not sound excessively delicious, but these sparingly charred greens were generously slathered with dollops of warm, whipped goats cheese infused with honey.
Nina's wine list divides Italy up into three zones and the focus is very much on the reds – exactly what you want when the steak is this good. There are plenty of by-the-glass options, too, which includes rose, international wines and four choices of fizz.
Nina really deviates from its themes for the cocktails (and zero-alcohol fauxtails), which for some reason are all named after cigarette brands. So, there's the Camel, a blend of pineapple, passion fruit and grenadine, or perhaps you'd like a Silk Cut, which muddles together tequila, apricot, citrus fruits, thyme and agave. I guess everybody has their vice – especially Nina.
And finally, our waiter advised us that one portion of the Tiramisu would provide enough dessert for two people, which we ignored. What did we learn? That you should listen to the good people of Nina in London when they offer tiramisu guidance: our portion was roughly the size of a house brick. If only all bricks took inspiration from Nina and her cream-soaked monument to chocolate and mascarpone. The world would be a tastier place.
GO: Visit www.nina.london for more information.