In the backlands of Nuñez, a quite neighbourhood just north of Palermo, a curious corner has been opened up to make a remarkable entrance. The long bench is almost a work of art in itself. From across the street you can see a herd of people in work aprons, charcoal and tan, busying themselves with purposeful industry under atmospheric lighting.
We pass a DJ on the left as we walk through some flowing chiffon white curtains and the industry becomes clearer as we approach the centre piece of this loft-like space; two open fires, one covered and one uncovered. We are sat down by our lovely hostess, Rosalía, next to them, feeling the heat, which is not overwhelming and no smoke at all. Rosalía tells us that there is no gas used in the cooking, only open fire. The extraction system must be very sophisticated is my first thought.
We are now literally sitting in a enormous open kitchen, high-ceilinged and yet intimate, as we peer close-range at several waiters and cooks huddling around dishes, laying out the plates and putting the final touches on what has been given to them by the lads at the fires. While very busy, they all look up to say hello.
The fluidity between back and front of house seems all very natural. I had always thought the kitchen was a jealously-guarded domain of chefs but the staff at Ness are clearly used to having their space invaded. And so I start to feel this is quite normal and less like I’m an imposter.
Perhaps the bare-all kitchen a sign of confidence: there is a lot of activity but everyone seems to know their role and purpose. No headless chickens here. No beads of sweat. All under control. Quite how they do that I don’t know. Perhaps the chaos happened before. Or just a lot of perfection.
All the prep, Rosalía tells us, is done upstairs. She gives us a little tour, passing the DJ and onto the second floor where a separate dining room overlooks the restaurant floor. Here I notice there also no separation between the dining and kitchen, as Rosalia shows me the left-overs fermenting and pickling in giant jars. Everything gets thrown in, she says, nothing wasted.
Back down in the huge kitchen-dining warehouse, where mechanical expanse flirts with cozy, shared long tables, we sit and decide what to eat. The menu again reinforces the idea of fluidity; dishes presented as a horizontal list of ingredients (never more than three or four). There is no division between courses but it is understood that the first dishes are starters, the middle ones, accompaniments to main courses at the end. Like the tables, plates to be shared. Don’t be selfish.
And so…the orange fish eggs pop in the mouth like salty candy. That was trout roe, which I washed down with creamy white “Cottage” (a different species to that known to come in a tub) drizzled in carrot oil and then mop up with the puffy dough, freshly charred on embers. Yum. Then Chipirones, radicchio and chickpeas in a delicious broth of fermented clams with mushrooms and cauliflower. We decided to go for the catch of the day, mullet, rather than the beef and pork. And I’m glad we did. It was mouthwatering. Crispy on the outside, fluffy white flakes on the inside, so full of flavour with a kind of the grilled rice cake in a broccoli and Lincoln cheese sauce and a watercress salad with crispy shoestring potato.
This is not the stuff-your-face, bodegón experience so loved by Argentines where you can fill yourself with milanesa and mash and roll home happy. The dishes are simple but Ness nevertheless allows two quintessential national selling points to shine: the freshness and quality of the produce (all local and seasonal) and open-fire cooking. You can’t get more Argentine than a wood fired oven and a parrilla. Plus the irreverent ambition - there is always something disruptive brewing under the conservative surface here in Argy land.
Oh yes and the flan. Just incase you thought you’d been transported to Dubai or Tokyo, you are pulled back to the Rio de la Plata by this slippery morsel of Argentinidad - not your ordinary flan mind, but a deeply intense creamy rendition, with a touch of tahini and the caramel delicately burnt just for the delicious heaven of it.
At Ness, you literally want to try every dish. Particularly when you get to see them all prepared in front of you, before they are whisked away to someone else - kind of torture, but a great sales tactic. Next time, I’m going back for the chicken, which looked heavenly juicy, under slices of charred orange. I was about to dig into it, but alas the waiter got to it first.
Even if the genre-bending, post-modern ambient isn’t your thing (the bathrooms, gender-fluid obvs, carved out of the room by another sophisticated piece of carpentry) the food, as flavoursome as it is rustic, will bring you back. Nothing pretentious there.
And so we come to the story of Ness, the latest invention of Leo Lanussol, which has been locally described as Proper 2.0 referring to the celebrated chef’s Palermo restaurant. Esteban Cigliutti, was a client of Proper, convinced Leo to open this one in Nuñez, for a now a quiet neighbourhood like Palermo once was, but fast being populated by gastronomic phenomena like this one.
I watch a tall floppy haired Esteban bouncing around the populated space, evidently proud of his gastronomic kingdom, and just as I am wondering how on earth anyone would hear about this place, being so hidden in the heartlands of suburbia, I am told by our dining neighbours told that everyone is talking about it. They had driven an hour to get here, after seeing Bad Bunny on social media eating here the week before, after performing at River stadium just a few blocks away.
I’m not one for rankings or celebrities, but I can say I did very much enjoy this experience, and will be coming back here soon, for that Chicken, Orange, Spinach that I was cruelly tempted with before they swept it away. It’s been on my mind ever since. Genius.
Ness, Grecia 3691, Nuñez, CABA, Buenos Aires, Argentina @ness.bsas
