Since 2019
A kitchen built
on patience.
Artisan started with two friends, a used oven, and a stubborn idea: that eating well should feel like coming home, not dressing up. Seven years on, the oven is different. The idea is not.
The room was a print shop in 1923. When we found it in 2019 it had been empty for a decade, still smelling faintly of ink and linseed oil. We kept the tin ceiling, the scarred wood floor, and one long table that was already there — six meters of oak, carved with initials from people who will never eat with us.
We serve eight plates a night. The menu is written that morning, after Ana has walked the market. Some nights there is rabbit. Some nights there is nothing but vegetables and we are unapologetic. The wine list is short and honest. The music is quiet enough to talk over.
We cook the way we wish other people cooked for us.
What we hold to
Four things,
always.
- 01
Season first
Menus change every six weeks, because tomatoes in November were never the plan.
- 02
Hands, not machines
Bread kneaded, pasta rolled, butter churned. If it can be made by hand, it is.
- 03
Small growers only
Every bottle, every bean, every cheese comes from a farm we could drive to before lunch.
- 04
A room, not a restaurant
Twenty-eight seats. One long table. No two-hour turns. You’re not a cover — you’re a guest.
Who’s cooking
The people
Ana Marinescu
Chef & co-founder
Spent a decade in the kitchens of Copenhagen and Lyon before coming home to cook with her grandmother’s cast iron.
Tudor Petrescu
Wine & co-founder
Former sommelier at Noma; now drives the hills of Dealu Mare on weekends looking for growers most lists have never heard of.
Irina Dobrescu
Pastry
Makes the olive oil cake that people drive across town for, and refuses to tell us the recipe.