I am, frankly, fretting about 111 By Nico, a small restaurant in an undistinguished shopping strip (dry cleaners, wee barber’s, Spar) in deepest, residential Kelvindale. Its etched-glass windows and black exterior are a touch forbidding; inside, quantities of glossy black tiles glower dourly. It’s a space that has housed three restaurants in almost as many years, having previously been La Famiglia and Simply Fish, both owned by current chef patron, Nico Simeone. Which is, let’s face it, just a bit odd.
It’s day five of opening, and I hate storming in so soon, but the thing that’s worrying me most is hinted at by a homily on the dark grey walls: “Forget their pasts, break their boundaries, let them realise what can be achieved, and direct on the path to achieve it.” I can’t find a source for this, so I’m assuming it’s the work of Simeone himself, who has dictated that 111 By Nico is to be a training academy for young people with “a poor start in life”. Heading up the kitchen is Senegalese exile Modou Diagme, who, after a spell of homelessness, started with Simeone as a kitchen porter and worked his way up to being in charge of the kitchen. There’s nothing that causes me more anxiety than a restaurant with a good cause: what if it’s awful? What if I don’t like it? The karma doesn’t bear thinking about.
Anyway, thank Buddha, it’s great. Truly. The alluring menu, we’re told by our chirpy Roman waiter Matteo, will change on a weekly basis, and it’s tuned in to what’s going on way beyond Glasgow. Simeone is clearly in his element in his open kitchen, handsomely orchestrating dishes’ final flourishes. (The rest of the staff are secreted elsewhere, doing the grunt work, although we do spot Diagme, so can confirm he’s real.)
An Italian background shines through dishes such as herb gnocchi – homemade, herb-laced little cushions of loveliness, bolstered by perky girolles, poached, boned chicken leg and a rich parmesan cream: a sexy, comfort food bunga-bunga party. Mussels come in an insanely shellfish-rich bisque in which float dill-scented farfalle, also homemade; on top sits a fat tranche of dewily fresh hake wrapped in parma ham. Fluffy brandade is whipped into fritters, but – with raw and cooked fennel, a heady, fragrant saffron aïoli and garlic crisps – it works beautifully, capitalising on the fact that brandade is effectively posh fishcake filling.
I also love ham hough – smoky, salty, pressed into a rectangular toastie “sandwich” with just-charred edges and served with apricot (fruit and puree) and crunchy hazelnut granola. And flame-grilled mackerel of virginal freshness, served on a “couscous” of blitzed cauliflower flecked with blowsy, white sultanas. A hefty raviolo of springy pasta bursting with duck meat and topped with crisped carrot comes in a moat of just-sweet carrot velouté and duck jus so lively, it’s virtually quacking. Beef shin is slow, slow cooked into a meaty tangle with a backnote of treacle toffee, its accompanying celeriac roasted, pureed, fried into angel-hair threads and as remoulade. This is confident, creative stuff.
No, I’m not all gushy and starry-eyed due to the (unsubstantiated) mention of charidee, and there are clunkinesses: a puddingy, oversalted risotto groaning with pasteurised-tasting crab and blobbed with bullying pesto. There are unnecessary theatrics, too – glass domes piped full of applewood smoke over the ham hough; a truly accomplished pistachio creme brulee arrives at the table with its toffee aflame – that are all arms akimbo provincial ambition. But, altogether, this is a meal that makes all of us, Glaswegians and visiting snooty restaurant critics alike, grin with astonished pleasure.
And the bill! Twenty quid for three courses (with a couple of ungrasping supplements for beef and brulee). That would just about get you a cocktail and a half in That London. A fine, crisp verdicchio is also 20 quid, and a copper-bottomed steal. I’m even excusing the website section headed “my philosophy”, a heinous chunter full of “journey”, “passion” and “vision”. Blame youthful enthusiasm – Simeone is in his 20s – or Simon Cowell, whom I’m happy to blame for almost anything.
Even without the altruism, this is a place that’s doing it right. Simeone deserves an award, or several – and if he does manage to help disadvantaged young people along the way, he deserves canonisation.
• 111 By Nico 111 Cleveden Road, Glasgow, G12, 0141-334 0111. Open Tues-Fri, noon-2.30pm, 5pm-10pm, Sat noon-10pm, Sun noon-9pm. £17 for two courses, £20 for three; five-course tasting menu £30, all plus drinks and service.
Food 8/10
Atmosphere 7/10
Value for money 9/10
