Seduction, served.
This is Noir43.
A small room with a big mood. In the heart of Zagreb.
Forty seats. A hidden booth for six to eight behind the velvet.
We move with after-hours energy.
The bar is serious. The service is close.
Strangers share a long table. Friends take the corner. It feels private. Almost secret.
Day and night live here.
Lunch is quick, warm, and a little wicked.
After dark, the room slows. The menu leans intimate.
Plates arrive with wine, champagne, or a proper cocktail. Your pace. Your story.
The menu
Textures you can feel.
Day
Noir by day runs on fire and flavour.
Burgers stacked and dripping, fries loaded to the edge, salads sharp and clean. Quick enough for a break, good enough to linger.
Built for the ones who move this city.
Night
The city slows, but Noir heats up.
Velvet lights, low voices, glasses that catch the glow.
Small plates built for seduction — caviar on warm blinis, tuna tartare locked inside crisp ravioli, arancini that burst with smoke, pork that shifts from crackling to silk.
Not everything’s listed. The best things never are.
Each course can meet a glass. Champagne. A bold red. Something stirred and strong. We plan pairings, but you lead.
This isn’t dinner. This is theatre. A place to play, to whisper, to be seen — or not.
Book your seat. Or ask for the booth if you mean business. Noir keeps the secrets.
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Choose your hour. Date. Dinner party. Lunch. Late drink. The table is waiting.