Go to Pena for a fashionable meal and high-end service
As the apocryphal story would have us believe, Leonardo DiCaprio approached the legendary (and legendarily private) Robert De Niro after the blockbuster release of Titanic made the young actor a global superstar overnight. Asking for advice as to how to live a relatively normal life, De Niro revealed what was seemingly the simplest of secrets. “If you want to walk around unnoticed, get a pair of glasses no one would expect you to wear.”
I bring up this story not just to take up space because I’m on deadline, but because Pena is exactly the kind of place where you could expect to see a celebrity hiding behind their glasses, hoping to enjoy a good meal in the privacy of comfortable surroundings. There’s always been two kinds of Hollywood stars: Those whose career depends on constant notoriety; and those who have enough talent to afford to stay out of the spotlight. And whereas many clubs and restaurants in the capital cater ostentatiously to nouveaux riche desperate to be seen, Pena is a place so comfortable with its coolness that it feels no need to show off. Indeed, looking around the room at the clientele, the question is not whether Pena impresses you—with flashy curtains, a blaring sound system, odd and oversized works of art and the other overzealous decorations found at a number of Kyiv’s see-and-be-seen establishments—but whether you are impressive enough for Pena. And, to be fair, its prices will certainly exclude most locals. There’s only one wine less than Hr 50 per glass and most of the interesting salads run about $25. But those who can afford it will not be disappointed: Billing itself as a seafood restaurant, Pena has some of the freshest fish in town. In fact, resting on a bed of ice in the main dining room, you can even choose the one you want to become your dinner. But, while the weather is nice, make your way through the tasteful hall (lit brightly, but well, with cream-colored upholstery highlighting the birch paneling and vaguely Asian detailing) to the lovely terrace. Located right off of Yaroslaviv Val at ground level, the bamboo shades magically allow a view to the street while simultaneously preventing passersby from peering in—only adding to Pena’s mystique and its allure of understated importance.
We started with an octopus salad (Hr 142), happy to find that the chef knows how to blend disparate flavors and textures. Discs of cephalopod skulked around half-moons of skinned new potatoes and bitter arugula, the high-quality olive oil mitigating the bite of the greens and only enhancing the slight sweetness of the chopped tentacle. An odd sinus burst from a shard of fresh cracked pepper cleansed the palate for the next bite. If my only complaint was that the octopus was a bit chewy (its freshness, however, never in doubt), then the shrimp salad with avocado and parmesan sauce (Hr 128)—while perhaps less striking in its flavors—was even more perfectly prepared. Four large shrimp hid within the shadows of full leaves of fresh romaine lettuce, with a wonderfully nuanced dressing that could’ve easily been the flavored mayonnaise so often found in other restaurants. It’s here that I should also mention that the service was impeccable, the waiter seemingly able to intuit my needs, arriving at the table before I had even turned fully around to find him. Watching his colleagues with their own tables, I could tell he was the rule rather than the exception.
Because of the way Pena advertises itself (you’ve no doubt seen their slick ads of stylish people enjoying photogenic fish), we decided to order only animals unable to live on land. Worried that our main courses couldn’t possibly outshine our salads, the salt-baked sea bass (Hr 150) with a side of couscous (Hr 42) was a breath of relief. We were first presented with our whole fish still wrapped in its impressive salt cocoon before the waiter once again returned it to the kitchen to remove the meat himself. Returning with four large strips of tender white flesh flanked by a bright yellow puck of grain dotted with sunspots of seasoning, my guest and I were hesitant to destroy the lovely presentation —but we did eventually find the strength within. And, although I did find an errant bone or two (perhaps the waiter wasn’t quite as felicitous with a boning knife as he thought — an insignificant blot on an otherwise perfect record), the sea bass maintained all its moisture, and the couscous — which, if overcooked, can be like chewing spoonfuls of sand — maintained their pliancy without becoming gruel. All of our dishes so far, however, were merely an opening act in triplicate for the mussel and prawn plate served with a lime and coconut saute (Hr 182). A cold dish, the plate contained six monstrous crustaceans, three of them smoked and the others lightly steamed, all of them easily losing their shells to deliver up wonderful hunks of shellfish. But the mussels were the real stars of the evening, filled with bits of onion simmered to translucency in the best rendition of a traditional Thai green curry I’ve had anywhere in Ukraine. What’s more, the portion surprisingly reflected the price. My father used to say “you’re never sorry when you buy the best.” He neglected to mention that, albeit true, you’re also likely to end up poorer. Pena, though pricey, has some of the best seafood dishes around. If you’ve got the cash—and you don’t need to be noticed—then it’s definitely the meal for you.
Pena (30/18 Yaroslaviv Val, 234-1701). Open daily noon till midnight
English menu: Yes
English-speaking staff: Yes
Average meal: Hr 300
