Zama

Zama — the Romanian word for broth — is exactly what its name advertises: a reclamation of the everyday dishes that any Romanian grandmother would cook, rewritten for the confident eater. The room is light, warm, art-hung; the menu is short, seasonal, and always at least one dish is smoking quietly at the pass.

Ciorbă, the sour soup that is the beating heart of Romanian cooking, is served in multiple registers across the menu: a clarified ciorbă de burtă with trotter broth, a hot smoked-trout variant, a vegetable ciorbă of wild nettles and lovage. The salmon risotto with green asparagus has become a signature by accident — guests kept ordering it. Mains stay close to tradition but gain precision in execution: sarmale wrapped in vine leaves rather than cabbage, polenta fried in goose fat, a slow-cooked lamb shank with plum jus.

The wine list is shorter than Via's and deliberately so — Mihalache's front-of-house partner wants to pour what works, not what impresses. Expect a clean selection of Romanian whites (Fetească Albă, Tămâioasă Românească) alongside a handful of well-chosen French and Italian reds. Romanian craft beer is taken seriously; the Clinica Berii list is one of the best in the city.

Solo diners are treated as honoured guests here, which is rare in this corner of Europe. The bar counter has six stools with good sightlines into the kitchen; the staff will happily pace a three-course dinner for you. Groups of eight or ten can take the back room with a family-style sharing menu that scales beautifully.

Zama is the answer to the team dinner question in Cluj. The sharing menu — built around ciorbă, a whole roasted lamb shoulder, and a board of Transylvanian cheeses — is designed to encourage conversation rather than individual performance, and the price point (around €50 per head with wine) lets you bring twelve people without an expense-account negotiation.