In a quiet corner of Metairie, just outside New Orleans, where strip malls brush against magnolia trees, Tana emerges not with fanfare, but with feeling—rooted in Sicilian spirit, unapologetically modern yet anchored in the old world.
On a lively Saturday evening, just a few miles removed from the chaos of Bourbon Street, Tana’s dining room was anything but quiet. Every table was full, the atmosphere alive with conversation and laughter that drifted between courses. Rows of limoncello bottles shimmered against the walls, while the air carried the unmistakable aroma of garlic, citrus, and slow-simmered sauces.
Even before the first plate arrived, Tana radiated elegance—a polished, unpretentious retreat quietly removed from the usual New Orleans scene. Clusters of guests filled the room—some styled and posed, snapping photos beneath the glow of the tiled Tana sign, others leaning in, mid-conversation, savoring bites between stories. Families lingered over shared plates, the week's weight lifting with each course. Business meetings quietly morphed into something warmer, more human. The energy wasn’t rushed, but it moved—expectant, open. They had come for a good meal. They stayed for something harder to name.
The Tana team remained effortlessly present—never intrusive, always just a step ahead. Every need was met before it was noticed, with a steady rhythm that made the service feel instinctive. They moved from table to table with subtle smiles and steady hands, carrying hot plates with the kind of confidence that comes from serving something worth serving. No theatrics, no over-explaining—just good food, delivered like it spoke for itself. And it did.
The presence of Chef Michael Gulotta is felt in every corner of the space. His work carries the weight of memory—of inherited recipes, family stories, and a Sicilian lineage that runs just beneath the surface of everything he creates. Inspired by the matriarch who came before him, his great-grandmother Gaetana Giacona - “Tana” - her presence lingers in the framed photographs that grace the restaurant’s walls.
This is Gulotta’s third concept, but Tana feels different. It feels personal. A love letter, not just to Sicily, but to family. And like any good love letter, it speaks through the details—most of all, the food.
Course after course, Tana gently unraveled any assumptions of overindulgence or flash. What arrived instead was something more thoughtful—more intimate. Each dish was a study in restraint and richness, a conversation between Gulf Coast ingredients and Sicilian memory. Glazed octopus nestled in smoked bone marrow, fried oysters reimagined with NOLA-Sicilian flair, and a blue crab and bacon salad so balanced it caught you off guard—just the beginning of a longer journey into Chef Gulotta’s point of view. His food doesn’t shout. It reveals—dish after dish, moment by moment—something deeper. A sense of place, of history, and of a chef fully at home in his craft.
But it didn’t end there. The Blue Crab and Squid Ink Fusilli brought just enough heat from the sausage to balance the sweetness of the crab, all tucked into dark ribbons of pasta. The seafood-stuffed pork chop was generous but thoughtful—rich, well-seasoned, and comforting without being heavy. And the swordfish alla piastra, finished with basil aioli and pesto trapanese, was bright and clean, letting the fish speak for itself. Each dish felt intentional—layered, but never fussy. The kind of food that leaves you quiet for a moment, unsure whether to talk or just keep eating.
The food keeps you grounded, but the space meets you there—quietly, effortlessly. Wicker chandeliers cast a soft light overhead. The lounge, with its low sofas and calm corners, invites a slower pace. Our terracotta tufted booth brings warmth to the room, while shades of blue and ochre add depth without drawing too much attention.
There’s a Mediterranean touch to the design, but it never feels forced. New Orleans shows up in the ease of it all—the balance between refinement and comfort. Even the bar, with its clean lines and simple setup, blends in without trying to impress. Nothing is overdone. Everything just works. Tana doesn’t ask for attention—it earns it. Every detail, from the menu to the design, speaks to a deeper intention. The flavors nod to Sicily, reach toward Liguria, and settle comfortably into New Orleans without ever feeling pulled in too many directions. It’s not a fusion—it’s a conversation between places that feel personal to Chef Michael Gulotta. His ancestry is in its bones.
The space mirrors the menu—warm, composed, and subtly confident. Somehow, Tana manages to be both refined and relaxed, modern and rooted. It’s a restaurant that doesn’t just serve food. It tells a story—one that unfolds slowly, without needing to explain itself, and lingers long after the last bite.
Tana is not trying to be anywhere else, and that’s exactly what makes it unforgettable.
