A Very, Very, Very Fine House

The first few times I tried to make reservations at City House, I got shut out. The newest dining hot spot, nestled on a sleepy street in Germantown, needed more than a few days’ notice to secure a table. When I sheepishly explained to a disappointed dinner companion that we would have to change plans because City House was booked, she replied with surprise, “It’s already that popular?” But after a moment’s reflection, she revised her question: “Or should I ask, is it still that popular?”

With a flurry of upscale, creative restaurants opening across Nashville over the last few months, it’s fair to be cautiously skeptical about the longevity of so many Next Big Things. The restaurant business is a tricky trade, and the statistics are not exactly heartening. But in the case of City House, where owners Tandy Wilson and Anne Kostroski deliver a menu of house-cured meats, fresh pastas and other rustic Italian recipes alongside a roster of stunning desserts, it’s fair to expect some staying power. Throw in gorgeous architectural design, a commitment to local and seasonal ingredients and a burgeoning neighborhood hungry for thoughtful, unpretentious dining options, and you’ve got the makings of a quiet landmark.

Housed in the former studio of sculptor Alan LeQuire, City House blends in with the quaint residential profile of its neighborhood. A gentle winding path leads to an unassuming entrance, where the old-world charm of Germantown’s brick sidewalks and historic homes merges into a medley of high-gloss concrete, gleaming stainless steel and warm wood, much of it reclaimed from the trimming of local poplar trees.

The sophisticated rustication of the room, in which old brick peeks through newly plastered walls and a wooden banquette traces the rough edges of an exposed stone foundation, mirrors the style of food that Wilson, an alumnus of Margot Cafe, delivers. Along a chef’s bar that divides the main dining area from the open kitchen, bowls of whole garlic, bell peppers and citrus fruits hint at the fresh flavors that weave in and out of dishes such as catfish with cornmeal crust, mint, garlic, orange and chili and sausage with lemon, red onion and parsley. Massive hunks of cheese sit unabashedly on the bar, ready to be shaved or grated across the top of soups, salads and pastas. In its decor, layout and cuisine, City House celebrates simple, beautiful ingredients.

The short menu has even been criticized for being too simple—for leaving too much to the imagination—with curt listings of ingredients and no indication of how they’re combined or presented. But in our experience, any additional narrative would have been redundant. Carolina trout, for example, arrived just as the menu promised: with breadcrumbs, peanuts, raisins, lemon and parsley stuffing. The elegantly straightforward presentation packaged a medley of flavors and textures into a formidable hunk of pan-fried skin-on fish, with no false advertising of poetic phrasing that too often fluffs a menu without benefiting the actual food.

Of the few words on the menu that could use a little clarification, spiedini was the highlight of our meals. The starter of grilled mackerel arrived on skewers patterned with hunks of fish, red onion and cubes of bread, brushed with salsa verde. The buttery fish was gently cooked, leaving it moist, with crisp grilled edges and bright traces of parsley, lemon, anchovies, capers and garlic.

At one meal, we began ordering at the top of the menu and stopped when we’d had enough food. On a second visit we picked up where we left off, finally reaching the heavier pastas and entrées. Depending on your group and appetite, either way works well, and our servers were prepared for our sharing, bringing us stacks of small plates as each course arrived. On Sundays, the dining is all family style—Wilson whittles the menu down to a handful of items such as meatballs and pizza with Manila clams, which are designed for sharing.

Whatever your dining plan, don’t miss Wilson’s house-cured meats, which will change the way you think of cold cuts. Far from the chewy leather of commonplace summer sausage or pepperoni, the moist rounds of paper-thin salami, served simply with hunks of Parmesan and a drizzle of olive oil, melt across the tongue, with a faint licorice whisper of anise seed.

Salami also tops one of the four pizzas, which emerge from a flickering brick oven behind the counter. We enjoyed a pizza covered with mellow tomato sauce, anchovies, capers and house-made mozzarella, though a few minutes more by the fire would have added welcome crispness and oven-pocked flavor to the homemade crust.

One complaint we’ve heard from diners—many of whom admit to having eaten at City House multiple times already (or still)—is that there is a marked absence of fresh vegetables. Indeed, precious few green things dot the menu—celery, capers and olives, among them. One notable exception is the vibrant salad of fresh roasted beets over escarole, with almonds, pecorino and sherry vinegar. We also ordered sides of roasted broccoli with raisins and peanuts, and collard greens with house-cured bacon. While the nuts and raisins added interesting dimension to the broccoli, even Wilson’s exquisite charcuterie could do little to brighten the flavor of the soggy dark greens. It’s likely that in the growing season City House’s menu will veer toward fresher, brighter flavors.