There was a time when crossing the river to Praga carried the faint whiff of expedition—an errand, a detour, a noble act of urban curiosity. That old cliché no longer survives contact with Nami Ramen. This is the kind of place that redraws your internal map of Warsaw. Suddenly Śródmieście feels like the outskirts. Suddenly Praga becomes the center of gravity.

And before a spoon even hits broth, you understand that something serious is happening here.
The interior is pure theater. Bold, playful, self-aware, and executed with the confidence of people who know they are building an experience rather than merely decorating a room. A giant NAMI sign commands the space like a neon declaration of intent. Across the wall, a mural appears to depict a figure suspiciously reminiscent of Snoop Dogg watching a serpent rise and morph from the steam of a ramen bowl—part fever dream, part pop-art hallucination, part late-night appetite fantasy. It is memorable, cheeky, and exactly right. Every detail suggests a team invested in creating an event, not just serving dinner. That same level of passion is stamped all over the food.

If any review of Nami must begin somewhere, it begins—unsurprisingly—with the kimchi. Too often kimchi arrives as a blunt instrument: all acid, all heat, all noise. Here, it is composed like music. Brightness, funk, spice, crunch—each note landing in the right place. The bok choy brings freshness and a cooling green snap that keeps the heat lively rather than punishing. It’s a small plate with big intelligence behind it.

Then came the ribs—yes, ribs at a ramen shop, and perhaps the best argument yet for abandoning preconceptions. These żeberka were outrageously good: fall-off-the-bone tender, sticky in all the right places, rich without becoming heavy, disappearing faster than polite table manners would advise. Little juicy parcels of joy. Five out of five, no committee required.

We always judge a ramen house by its shoyu. It is the classic benchmark, the stripped-back test of whether a kitchen has true command or only cosmetic flair. Nami’s version is the real thing. A broth with depth and patience behind it, clean salinity, carefully chosen toppings, and presentation that flatters rather than distracts. No gimmicks. No shortcuts. Stellar.

Then another surprise: bulgogi, a dish still too rarely seen on ramen menus and too often mishandled elsewhere. Here it lands with swagger. Tender beef, heat in balance, fried Jerusalem artichoke slices adding crisp texture and earthy sweetness, all swimming in a beef broth so magnificent it deserves its own side hustle in bottles and cartons across the city. Phenomenal.

What makes Nami Ramen special is not simply that it serves excellent food—though it absolutely does. It is that the place understands hospitality as atmosphere, appetite, memory, and occasion. You don’t just eat here; you arrive, you look around, you grin, you order too much, you promise yourself restraint next time, and then immediately break that promise.
For this Insider, Nami has awakened Praga as a destination not to visit once, but to return to repeatedly and hungrily. It has shifted the city’s axis one steaming bowl at a time.