Photograph by Martha Williams
In the mid-1970s, young people in Atlanta didn’t eat in restaurants. Some of the 20-somethings may have gone to fill their bellies at places like Ma Hull’s Boarding House, and every so often, they had to play dress-up and follow their parents to one of the traditional establishments the older generations patronized. There was no culinary scene. On “Eyetalian” night, it was mostly Nino’s on Cheshire Bridge Road or its archrival Alfredo’s, almost next door. A Parisian who came to Atlanta via New York, I hated both restaurants with all my heart.
At Nino’s, the shuffling waiters, heavy pasta dishes, and veal parmigiana in no way resembled what I was familiar with from Rome or Florence. The restaurant, established in 1968 by Genoa-born Nino Laporete, an opera buff who liked to give impromptu performances in his dining room, didn’t seem to me worthy of its reputation. I warmed up to the restaurant after a change in ownership in the early 1980s, when Antonio Noviello, who hails from the Amalfi Coast, took over. I still wasn’t a super fan of a menu too conservative for my taste. But put in the proper context, when Atlanta was falling in love with showboating restaurants started by powerful hospitality groups, an old-fashioned family-run restaurant promising an intimate experience became something valued. I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Photograph by Martha Williams
Longtime customers still show up regularly in the unassuming building facing a street previously known for its louche scene. Newly built apartments and legit eateries have changed the face of Cheshire Bridge Road, long celebrated for places such as Nakato, Taqueria del Sol, and Ethiopian restaurants. Nearby, Daily Chew (and before it closed in August, The Buttery) attracts a classy clientele and increase traffic. In the spring I dined in the low-lit main dining room with a longtime friend. We ordered clams oreganata (mainly breadcrumbs), lasagna (now firm but creamy), veal saltimbocca buried in sauce, and a delicious half portion of porcini fettuccine—the latter now an off-menu item that the kitchen makes on request. I recognized one of the veteran servers doing slow laps in the dining room where younger types provide a fast-paced style of service one would be hard pressed to describe as soulful and involved. We skipped dessert and talked about how low the prices used to be, our quest for a nostalgic atmosphere and food connecting us to the past.
There have been changes at Nino’s over the years—new floors, better wine glasses, upscale place settings—but the most obvious and transformative is the recent expansion of the restaurant following its acquisition of the hair salon next door. Noviello, who seemed to be an immutable feature, retired, leaving Nino’s in the capable hands of his middle daughter, Alessandra, and her husband Micah Hayes. “My father is still a partner,” Alessandra told me. “I have to write him a check every month.” But while he still comes by to make himself a strong cup of espresso, he now spends a good amount of time traveling with his wife.
The addition, named Dopo Lavoro, allows the dynamic younger generation to follow their dreams. The old, crowded bar has now been replaced with a larger one in this open, new space, which also serves as an extension of the dining room, now offering lunch and brunch. The light-filled and airy room feels vastly different from the rest of the dark restaurant with its romantic intimacy. The main features of the new room—plump, high-backed butter-yellow banquettes, a wealth of black-and-white family photographs in gold frames hung on stark white walls, and traditional blue-and-white tiles topping both the tables and the bar—are in a style commonly found throughout contemporary Italy. For the design, Alessandra collaborated with her sister, Gabriela Eisenhart.
“People who see me at the door can tell I am not Italian,” Micah jokes, a reference to his being a Black man. He met his wife when they were both teenagers (about three years before he ever worked a shift at the restaurant), and Micah was a customer, while she worked at the maitre d’ stand. After spending years working at the restaurant, he now does pretty much everything needed at Nino’s, from trimming the bushes and clipping the herbs to spending a fair amount of time in the kitchen. He influences the cooking, freshening up the pasta dishes (“We now use real bechamel in our lasagna,” he boasts) and baking the desserts. Charismatic and smart, Micah knows that every detail, including cleanliness and optics, communicates the quality of an establishment. He, his wife, and their three children regularly go to Italy in pursuit of pleasurable and instructive experiences.
My lunch in the bright new room, followed by an illuminating conversation with Micah, gave me faith in a concept he described to me as his baby. New salads (especially a grilled romaine in the style of an iceberg wedge but with Caesar accoutrements and an anchovy-rich sauce); new sandwiches such as the anchovies and arugula Alici on baguette wrapped in butcher paper; new perfectly cooked pasta (linguine with lemon cream and zest, an Amalfi specialty; tubular calamarata with rapini and ground Italian sausage dressed with fresh herbs and garlic) followed by a flourless torta Caprese reminiscent of a dense and not too sweet chocolate cheesecake all won me and my lunch date over.
Italian wines by the glass and refreshing spritzes up the ante. In addition to dinner seven days a week, Nino’s now serves lunch Monday to Thursday and brunch on Sunday. A place rightly known as an institution is rare enough in Atlanta, but one that knows how and when to bring in new pizazz without compromising its values is almost unheard of and worthy of our respect.
This article appears in our September 2024 issue.
