In the midst of Goa’s fast-changing food scene, a quiet new restaurant in the city of Panjim brings back the comforting simplicity of nostalgic European flavours
What feasting at Oito looks like
Tucked away from the neon gloss of Goa’s ever-growing roster of trend-chasing restaurants is a new eatery that feels like a warm memory brought to life. It doesn’t announce itself with flashy interiors or Instagrammable gimmicks, despite being aesthetically pleasing enough to be a part of an edition of Architectural Digest. Instead, it leans into a simpler, subtler kind of charm — one that reminds you of slow Sunday lunches, heavy with conversation, and food that tastes like it’s been cooked with a quiet kind of reverence. This isn’t a restaurant that’s trying to impress; it’s one that’s trying to remember; remember a time when clean flavours, plates put together with ‘feeling’ and the intimate, quiet dining were what eating out was all about. Welcome to Oito.
The menu here reads like a love letter to clean, European flavours — gentle on the palate but deeply satisfying. Think broths with backbone, slow-cooked meats that don’t shout for attention, and vegetables treated with the kind of care only nostalgia can inspire. There’s a clear confidence in restraint: the sauces are light, the portions just right, and the plating elegant without being fussy. It’s the kind of food that doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel — instead, it simply reminds you how perfect a wheel can be when it’s built with care.
In many ways, this is what dining out in Goa used to feel like. Before the state became a testing ground for pan-Indian bistros, experimental kitchens, and the endless pop-up-to-shutdown cycle that mimics the frenzy of India’s Tier 1 cities, restaurants here had soul. They were often extensions of someone’s home, built on relationships, repeat customers, and a focus on food that comforted rather than shocked. This new place channels that spirit beautifully.
Which brings us to the food, the most important part of any restaurant. What we ate is as follows:
Crab and Grapefruit Salad
I’m not a fan of salad, on the whole, but this is one of the few I would make an exception for. A symphony of freshness, this salad was a vibrant interlude. The sweet, briny crab mingled with the sharp tartness of grapefruit, each bite punctuated by the crunch of the lettuce. The avocado mousse brought a creamy, mellow anchor to an otherwise zesty flavour profile.
Exotic Mushroom Ajillo
A tapas-style revelation, comprising a sizzling medley of oyster, shimiji, and button mushrooms that were bathed in garlicky oil infused with lemon, coriander, and a whisper of chili. Each variety offered its own texture and depth, from meaty to silky. The restaurant believes that it is a dish that is meant to be shared—though you might not want to.
Sautéed Tenderloin and Shiitake
A standout on the menu that is popular with diners, and understandably, given that it is comfort food reimagined with finesse. The tenderloin had a melt-in-your-mouth tenderness, which paired beautifully with the earthiness of the shiitake and its glossy peppercorn jus. In summation, a meat-and-potatoes dish made for the discerning palate.
Crab Rockefeller
This reinvented classic was pure comfort with a touch of coastal luxury. The lump crab meat was generous and sweet, baked into a bubbling, savoury blend. Served with dipping bread that was hearty yet yielding, it invited indulgence without heaviness.
Belgian Pork Belly
The pork belly could have been rendered better—but its fat was luxuriously soft and its skin had a respectable amount of crackle to it. The spice dust gave the dish a warm complexity without stealing the spotlight, while the chimichurri added a sharp, herby brightness. The charred lemon was a thoughtful touch, but I would personally have preferred a greater degree of smoky acidity to cut through the richness of the dish.
Capellini with Truffle
A study in understated elegance, this dish delivered on both aroma and texture. The delicate capellini was perfectly al dente, dressed with the earthy richness of truffle that didn’t overpower but elevated each bite. The parmesan snow added a light, salty umami kick—melting on the tongue like a whisper. Paired with a crisp side salad, the dish balanced decadence with a refreshing green contrast. My only point of contention would be that the generous use of olive oil perhaps leaves you with a slightly ‘coated’ mouth-feel.
Make no mistake — Oito isn’t backward-looking. It feels current in all the right ways: from its use of produce, the gentle nods to sustainability, and an obvious respect for the dining experience itself. The service is warm and intuitive (at this point, I must make a special mention of Mayur Shirodkar, who leads the front of house team with effortless charm, and who knows the restaurant’s menu, back to front, making ordering a breeze), the atmosphere intimate but never exclusive. It feels like something Goa has been missing, even if we didn’t quite realise it.
That said, it’s impossible to ignore the precariousness of such ventures in today’s landscape. With rising rents, fickle dining trends, and the pressure to constantly innovate, even the most thoughtfully conceived spaces often disappear before they find their rhythm. It’s unclear whether this new entrant will stand the test of time — but maybe that’s beside the point. What it does offer, for now, is a rare and welcome reminder of what restaurants once were — and what they still can be. A space where the food doesn’t scream for attention, where the flavours are rooted and familiar, and where every detail, from the playlist to the cutlery, feels like it was chosen with intention. In a Goa that often feels like it’s speeding toward sameness, this little spot dares to pause. And in that pause, it offers something quietly profound: the joy of remembering.
Fernando’s Findings
#1
Oito is a throwback to when European dining first made its presence felt in the city, so it may not come across as trendy as newer restaurants, but it’s fuss-free, which made it most enjoyable for me.
#2
The plates here are meant for sharing, so that people can journey through the menu at length.
#3
The average cost of a meal for two, minus alcohol, is ₹2,500-3,000 (at the time of publishing this review).