TWO NOMADS WALK INTO A RESTAURANT - AND DECIDE TO STAY

As we have just opened the doors of NOMAD Warsaw at Port Praski, our restaurant manager Marta sat down with co-founders Philippe and Anna — armed with coffee, a printed menu, and a list of questions she has been collecting since her first day on the job. Here is what happened.

Marta: let's start with the obvious one. You called a restaurant NOMAD Warsaw. Would love to hear why!

Philippe: guilty as charged. A nomad isn't someone who can't sit still — it's someone who collects. Places, flavours, rituals, people. We spent twelve years living in Thailand, eating our way across Asia, while our hearts kept one foot in Europe — in Poland, in Italy, in France. NOMAD Warsaw is simply everything we gathered along the way, finally unpacked in one place.

Anna: also, “Restaurant of People Who Travelled a Lot and Took Notes” didn't fit on the sign.

Marta: so what is NOMAD Warsaw, in one sentence?

Anna: European comfort food — the dishes Poland, Italy and France do best — with a gentle Thai twist that sneaks up on you somewhere around the second bite.

Philippe: it's the food you crave, cooked by people who also happen to care what it does to you after the plate is empty. Come for the vibe, stay for the flavours. That's not a slogan we made up for the website — it's genuinely the order in which it happens.

Marta: let's talk about that “after the plate is empty” part. You've written a whole nutrition guide. Can you please shed some light on this?

Philippe: this is quite simple: your body knows exactly what to do — it just needs the right fuel. We like to say we cook with logs, not kindling. Kindling burns bright and fast — sugar, white bread, that croissant that abandons you by 10 a.m. Logs burn long and steady — protein, good fats, plants with actual personality. We build the menu around logs.

Anna: and before anyone panics: pleasure is non-negotiable here. The tiramisu exists. The chocolate fondant erupts on schedule. We just believe you shouldn't have to choose between eating wonderfully and feeling wonderful. So some dishes will carry you through a whole afternoon, and some are pure joy by the spoonful. Both are welcome at this table. No guilt, no food morality, no sad plate pretending to be lunch.

Marta: this explains the breakfasts. Not a pastry in sight at 9 in the morning.

Anna: savoury first — that's the house rule we're most proud of. Starting the day with eggs, avocado and smoked salmon gives you steady energy instead of a glucose firework show. The Scandi Morning plate is basically a Nordic hug. And the shakshuka arrives bubbling, with sourdough for the essential business of wiping the pan.

Philippe: sweetness comes later in the day here — never as the opening act. It's a small change with a surprisingly large effect on how your afternoon goes.

Marta: where does the Thai twist hide on this menu?

Philippe: it doesn't shout, it winks. The dumplings are pure East-meets-West — shrimp and pork with chilli oil, an umami handshake between continents. The Thai Wanderer bowl takes your taste buds straight to a Bangkok street corner. And the watermelon salad with prawns, nam jim and toasted coconut — that one is Thailand at full volume, the dish we missed most when we came home.

Anna: Then a few steps away you have Roman cacio e pepe, a porchetta with properly crackling skin, and a 48-hour fermented sourdough pizza that would make an Italian nonna raise an approving eyebrow. That's the whole idea — the menu is a passport, and every section is a different stamp.

Marta: speaking of theatre — someone needs to explain the fish in the salt.

Anna: ah, the dorada. The salt crust seals in every drop of moisture, so what emerges is the most tender, delicate fish imaginable. But yes, we'll admit it — we also love a little drama at the table. Cracking that crust open is the closest a dinner gets to an opening ceremony.

Marta: why Warsaw, and why Port Praski?

Philippe: after years of wandering, Warsaw felt like the place worth stopping for. And Port Praski gave us water. Nomads have always settled by rivers — it's practically in the job description. A terrace on the port basin, the stadium across the water, a long summer evening… we saw it once and stopped negotiating with ourselves.

Anna: and Praga has exactly the spirit we wanted around us — a neighbourhood with character, a bit of grit, a lot of heart. It felt less like choosing a location and more like being adopted.

Marta: last question. The name NOMAD Warsaw carries five words in Polish — Nasycić, Ognisko, Miłość, Atmosfera, Doznanie. Which one is yours?

Anna: Ognisko — the fire. Every camp of nomads gathers around one. It's the warmth people sit down to, the reason strangers end up talking. I want this room to feel like that fire.

Philippe: Nasycić — to satisfy, fully. It's a promise, not a word. If you leave NOMAD Warsaw merely “fed,” we've failed. You should leave nourished, delighted, and already quietly planning your return.

Marta: on that note — table six is asking for the two of you. Interview over.

Philippe: See? Nasycić never sleeps