We don't rush the rise
Nuova means new. We opened an Italian kitchen in a corner of Old Town that did not have one, and we cook the way we would cook for people we like.
Forty-eight hours
Every base proves for forty-eight hours before it meets the fire. Slow fermentation is where the flavour and the lightness come from, and there is no way to hurry it that does not show in the crust. A few pies we bake twice, so they come out blistered, airy and easy to finish.
We make a limited number of dough balls a day. When they are gone they are gone, which is the honest cost of not making more than we can prove properly.
Three things we refuse to buy in
What we buy, we buy properly
San Marzano tomatoes and fior di latte on the Margherita. Guanciale in the carbonara and the amatriciana, prosciutto on the Parma Rocket, Japanese asari clams in the vongole. Imported where imported is genuinely better, and not for the label.
Wine is half our name. The list is short on purpose, mostly Italian, and chosen to sit next to a pizza rather than to impress anyone. If you tell us what you are eating we will point at the right bottle.
The room
It is small. There is a painted ceiling, a chandelier, marble tables, and a David by the door wearing headphones. People tell us it feels like dinner at a friend's apartment, if that friend had strong opinions about ceilings.
Because it is small, a table that does not turn up is a large part of the evening. If your plans change, tell us and we will give the table to someone else with no hard feelings.
