Nico Walkerville

The Walker Power Building gives Nico Walkerville more than an industrial shell; it gives Nick Politi’s third Windsor restaurant the scale to hold a focused dinner and a full celebration under one roof. The open-concept dining room moves among tables, booths and banquettes, with a long granite bar and separate cocktail lounge extending the evening beyond one seat. The building itself, developed by Hiram Walker’s sons between 1910 and 1913, brings a century of industrial history into the meal. Yet the size never becomes the point on its own. Politi remains the chef-owner at the centre, carrying roughly three decades of Nico history into a restored Walkerville landmark. The dining room is broad; the menu still reads as one person’s restaurant.

That hand is clearest in the pasta program. Gnocchi Nico folds potato and ricotta into dumplings with wild mushroom, Gorgonzola and Padano, then turns toward Earl Grey crema and potato crumb for a finish that is rich, earthy and unmistakably specific. Gemelli Pesce Bolognese takes the house-made sourdough pasta in another direction: ground prawn and scallop form the ragù, seafood broth deepens it, and anchovy-roasted garlic with Calabrian chili keeps the plate from settling into sweetness. The choices around those signatures show equal attention to contrast. Paccheri Bianco Bolognese uses wild boar and lamb with white wine and sofrito, while Agnolotti Pesto leans into pistachio, lemon zest and Pecorino. Even the bucatini carries charred octopus and crisp guanciale through a basil-Pecorino finish.

The wood grill gives the menu its larger stride. It reaches from fire-grilled grouper with lime salsa to beef short rib set against broccolini, wild mushroom parfait and Marsala demi-glace. Australian Wagyu striploin arrives with grilled mushroom, bone marrow potato rösti and Bordelaise, a composition that brings steakhouse weight without leaving the Italian vocabulary around it. Aged bone-in ribeye pushes the same idea further at twenty ounces. Smaller plates keep that heft from becoming monotonous: grilled octopus crosses hot honey and ’nduja aioli with chimichurri and pickled cipollini, while hamachi crudo works orange and Calabrian chili against clean slices of fish. House-made sourdough focaccia with Sicilian amoglio sauce gives the table a simpler bridge between those directions. The aged ribeye leaves the fire with truffle butter, smashed fingerlings and grilled contorno.

Politi’s path explains why the expanded setting still feels connected to the earlier Nico restaurants. The story began in a small Erie Street dining room roughly three decades ago, long before this third version took shape in Walkerville. Growth brought more seats, a cocktail lounge and a large grill, but it did not hand the kitchen to an anonymous concept. The chef-owner remains present in the restaurant’s defining work: gnocchi, sourdough pasta, the balance between modern combinations and traditional Italian reference points. The family story continues alongside the cooking. Today, Politi and his three daughters operate the third version of Nico together.

Nico Walkerville earns its scale by giving each part of the restaurant a reason to exist. The lounge works as a prelude to dinner rather than a detached bar, and the mix of banquettes, booths and open sightlines lets a quiet table coexist with a larger gathering. Cocktails, local craft beer, whisky and wine give that prelude substance without competing with the meal. Wedding packages allow the entire restaurant to become the celebration, a use that fits the building’s proportions without turning ordinary dinner into an afterthought. Then Sunday changes the rhythm again. Live jazz runs alongside the meal, not as a late-night add-on, so the music occupies the pauses between gnocchi, pasta and the wood grill. The same restaurant can carry a date, a family dinner or an exclusive event without losing Nick Politi’s cooking as its centre of gravity. On Sunday, the music begins while dinner is still underway.