'The arancini are decent and the fritto misto is OK. Will I be coming back? No': TOM PARKER BOWLES

Daily Mail​

3 days ago

'The food tells a story, the cocktails keep it interesting, the vibe is effortlessly relaxed yet unmistakably electric.' Now, I'm all for letting the food do the talking, but do I really want to hear a dreary tale of its hopes, aspirations and dreams? As to the 'vibe'? I'll be the judge of that, old boy. But this is 'our story', according to Nina, a perfectly decent Marylebone Italian that's apparently massive on social media. Hey-ho.
I'm lunching with Fay Maschler, not so much the doyenne of food critics as the Queen Empress, and we agree that the room is unremarkable, the atmosphere more battery-powered than 'electric'. Service is professional enough but can verge on the intrusive. We're endlessly interrupted mid-conversation, asking if we're ready to order. You get the feeling that this is a place where tables are expected to turn quickly. Which never makes for a civilised long lunch. Empty plates, too, tend to linger disconsolately as the new mains are plonked down beside them. But it's early days, and these things can be ironed out.
Arancini are densely decent, filled with stringily oozing taleggio, with a crisp, grease-free crust. Focaccia, oily, charred and airily light, is better still, topped with intensely sweet tomato and draped with good anchovies. Beef carpaccio tonnato is equally fine, the paper-thin slices of beef hewn from a superior beast, and smothered in a flurry of parmesan. The tonnato, though, is more dressing than sauce, slathered over an excess of rocket hidden within. Fritto misto is OK, the fish spankingly fresh, but the batter a touch dense.
Spaghetti, taut and properly cooked, has a tomato sauce with just the right balance of sweetness and acidity. Rigatoni cacio e pepe is authentically, stridently salty, a whole egg yolk adding lustre and holding the dish in a softly concupiscent embrace. Pecorino adds its usual sheepy sharpness, and there's a good blast of pepper, too.
This is a kitchen that knows its cipolle. But would we come back? No. What Nina lacks is that all-essential, oh-so-elusive heart and soul. A quality that is made, not bought. Lunch is a joy not because of the food but the company. We skip pudding, gulp an espresso and make haste out the door. Nina is not a place for those who want to linger.