On the corner of a quiet residential street off the King’s Road lies Ziani, a good-looking Italian squeezed in-between two beloved London townhouses. The colours are classic Italy - pale yellow, light cream and bright orange - and they create a striking image despite the small space Ziani occupies. A calm, serene, relaxed palette which couldn’t contrast more with the endearingly chaotic vibe inside.
The entrance is on the side in a curiously nondescript, plain black door which leads into the narrowest corridor I’ve ever walked through that is narrower still because it doubles as a bar and a cloakroom. The barman looks like he’s forever ducking and diving, threading glasses through the heavy weave of customers and into waiters hands, delivering wine within under a minute of ordering. Every time I’ve been to Ziani, the solid Sicilian house red has arrived in the thirty second to one minute mark, showing signs of being chucked around, poured with pace, and sloshed around whilst the waiter rushes over to you, and all in all I think it a rather impressive demonstration of the much-maligned efficiency by the Italians.
We sat down in the best spot with full view of the kitchen. This little window into the back of house is like watching a budget soap opera where the family argues loudly and with exaggerated gesticulation in full view of guests. The friend who introduced me to Ziani strongly advised to enjoy the passionate exchanges both within the kitchen and also between the younger cooks and older waiting staff. It does not disappoint. What’s more, it adds to the chaotic atmosphere of waiters shouting at each other from across the restaurant, large families with young children causing a hubbub and distracting other waiters, and the groundswell of tables in a constant churn of being rearranged to squeeze more people in, shuffle others around, and make room for one more.
In the eye of the storm, I spotted one lone gentleman with a paper in front of him, glasses balanced on the end of his nose, a glass of red in one hand, a fork poised above his food in the other, quietly enjoying his meal and in perfect comfort with the chaos around him. An inspirational scene.
As for the food - the rabbit gnocchi tastes wonderful and you have to get it. It has the depth and richness of every good ragu, slow-cooked to kingdom come, with plenty of cheese covering the chewy little potato balls which combine to give that eye-rolling feel of Italian comfort food. It’s the kind of meal I crave at 3am when I can’t sleep and start watching Kitchen Nightmares on repeat until I get hungry and feel inspired to cook with a bit of passion.
As a regular, my friend Mr C. ordered his staple spaghetti bolognese with no regrets, and we enjoyed the good food, good wine, and good atmosphere which seems reliably consistent at Ziani’s. What I particularly appreciate is the option you have to combine spaghetti with anything you want - you pick any of the sauces from another dish on the menu and ask them to put it with spaghetti and voila - a meal to your fancy in 15 minutes for under £15.
They were equally accommodating of my request to have rabbit instead of wild boar ragu, just to mix it up a bit, and it was all done with a presiding air of alacrity and cheerfulness.
To me, Ziani epitomises simple food, done well. It also feels authentic and not just because of the passionate Latinate language thrown around the restaurant, but the ingredients, the choice of wine, and the lively and inviting atmosphere they’ve managed to create in this small pocket of Chelsea. Go with friends, go with your partner, go alone - you’ll enjoy it all the same.
Food - 8/10
Service - 8/10
Vibe - 10/10
Overall - 8.5/10