Casellula - Hell's Kitchen
401 W. 52nd Street, New York, NY 10019
As we walked up to this little wine bar in the rain, we almost stopped short because of what looked like paper covering all the windows, a typical sign of interior renovations. Instead, it was just fog that had clouded the glass--a veil for the patrons that kept the harsh elements locked outside.
Unfortunately, a 40 minute wait deterred us from becoming one of the carefree indoor patrons that night. We had returned to the wine bar having eaten there not three weeks prior. Sadly, we veered our hungry bellies in another direction but vowed to return again.
It was the cheese that lured us back. How could it not with a knowledgeable fromager on staff to suggest the perfect set of country cheeses to pair with your wine and food selection?
Winter is when we found this gem. And the cold, the rain, and the fog are now gone. Summer is here, and we have been back to this wine bar several times since--I've lost count. Returning not just once, but repeatedly, Casellula has made me break my golden rule of unique dining experiences in the city. How am I supposed to try everything that New York has to serve if I continually revisit old stomping grounds? But this is worth it. Time and time again, it's worth it, so I can't help but return.
What makes Casellula my favorite restaurant in New York City? For a wine bar with a fromage specialist and an ever-changing menu of items such as Goose Breast Reuben or Roasted Bone Marrow, the lack of pretension is ironic. Instead, this simple, little restaurant--far enough removed from Times Square to be considered a midtown respite--is just warm and cozy, and it serves delicious food. It's as simple as that.
One particularly memorable night entailed an epic search for chocolate dessert. Though we were in Hell's Kitchen, I was thwarted at every turn in trying to satisfy this craving. Of course, I turned to Yelp in fervor, and a number of dessert options either looked mediocre or were already closed. I identified an Italian dessert place a few blocks away that looked like it had fine desserts, and I even called ahead to confirm their dessert menu and let them know I was coming in for some chocolate cake. However, once happily seated in a booth in the back, our waiter informed us that they were sold out of chocolate cake. Though other options were available, my heart sunk, and we excused ourselves from the establishment. Next, we tried a French restaurant not too far away. I liked the look of their chocolate cake, and we were about to take a seat when I saw that almonds were baked into the cake. Allergic to almonds and quickly running out of options, I decided not to stay.
I remembered Casellula.
We walked in, sat down (with no wait, thankfully), and asked to only see the dessert menu. They had chocolate cake.
I asked the waiter, "How good is your chocolate cake?"
He said, "Very good."
As a child, my mother spoiled me with her restaurant quality baking, and she has a particularly feisty chocolate cake that would knock out most competition. So, I'm not easily impressed with dessert, and nearly 40 minutes after my search for chocolate began, I wasn't in the mood to mess around.
"I have extremely high standards for dessert, particularly chocolate cake. Are you sure I'm going to like this?" I asked, in the politest way I could given my temperament.
"Yes," he stated confidently.
The cake arrived. I was disappointed. A thick block of chocolate layer cake sat before me--chocolate cake, chocolate frosting, chocolate cake, chocolate frosting, and so on...just like one might find in a grocery store or at a child's birthday party.
But then, the waiter held up a pitcher of heavy cream and ceremoniously drenched my chocolate cake. Oh my goodness.
How was it? Heaven. Chocolate decadence sopping up smooth white cream. The cake was richer than I had anticipated with frosting that was far less sugary than a cheap birthday cake. Little bits of chocolate (were they tiny chocolate chips?) melted with every bite. And the cream? Soaked up inside every nook and cranny, making this the most moist (and caloric) cake imaginable.
While that certainly wasn't the last time I went exclusively for dessert, I wouldn't want to peg this restaurant as just a wine bar, just a cheese bar, or just a postprandial dessert spot. It's everything, and I enjoy everything about it. That's why I'll be going back--again.
401 W. 52nd Street, New York, NY 10019
As we walked up to this little wine bar in the rain, we almost stopped short because of what looked like paper covering all the windows, a typical sign of interior renovations. Instead, it was just fog that had clouded the glass--a veil for the patrons that kept the harsh elements locked outside.
Unfortunately, a 40 minute wait deterred us from becoming one of the carefree indoor patrons that night. We had returned to the wine bar having eaten there not three weeks prior. Sadly, we veered our hungry bellies in another direction but vowed to return again.
It was the cheese that lured us back. How could it not with a knowledgeable fromager on staff to suggest the perfect set of country cheeses to pair with your wine and food selection?
Winter is when we found this gem. And the cold, the rain, and the fog are now gone. Summer is here, and we have been back to this wine bar several times since--I've lost count. Returning not just once, but repeatedly, Casellula has made me break my golden rule of unique dining experiences in the city. How am I supposed to try everything that New York has to serve if I continually revisit old stomping grounds? But this is worth it. Time and time again, it's worth it, so I can't help but return.
What makes Casellula my favorite restaurant in New York City? For a wine bar with a fromage specialist and an ever-changing menu of items such as Goose Breast Reuben or Roasted Bone Marrow, the lack of pretension is ironic. Instead, this simple, little restaurant--far enough removed from Times Square to be considered a midtown respite--is just warm and cozy, and it serves delicious food. It's as simple as that.
One particularly memorable night entailed an epic search for chocolate dessert. Though we were in Hell's Kitchen, I was thwarted at every turn in trying to satisfy this craving. Of course, I turned to Yelp in fervor, and a number of dessert options either looked mediocre or were already closed. I identified an Italian dessert place a few blocks away that looked like it had fine desserts, and I even called ahead to confirm their dessert menu and let them know I was coming in for some chocolate cake. However, once happily seated in a booth in the back, our waiter informed us that they were sold out of chocolate cake. Though other options were available, my heart sunk, and we excused ourselves from the establishment. Next, we tried a French restaurant not too far away. I liked the look of their chocolate cake, and we were about to take a seat when I saw that almonds were baked into the cake. Allergic to almonds and quickly running out of options, I decided not to stay.
I remembered Casellula.
We walked in, sat down (with no wait, thankfully), and asked to only see the dessert menu. They had chocolate cake.
I asked the waiter, "How good is your chocolate cake?"
He said, "Very good."
As a child, my mother spoiled me with her restaurant quality baking, and she has a particularly feisty chocolate cake that would knock out most competition. So, I'm not easily impressed with dessert, and nearly 40 minutes after my search for chocolate began, I wasn't in the mood to mess around.
"I have extremely high standards for dessert, particularly chocolate cake. Are you sure I'm going to like this?" I asked, in the politest way I could given my temperament.
"Yes," he stated confidently.
The cake arrived. I was disappointed. A thick block of chocolate layer cake sat before me--chocolate cake, chocolate frosting, chocolate cake, chocolate frosting, and so on...just like one might find in a grocery store or at a child's birthday party.
But then, the waiter held up a pitcher of heavy cream and ceremoniously drenched my chocolate cake. Oh my goodness.
How was it? Heaven. Chocolate decadence sopping up smooth white cream. The cake was richer than I had anticipated with frosting that was far less sugary than a cheap birthday cake. Little bits of chocolate (were they tiny chocolate chips?) melted with every bite. And the cream? Soaked up inside every nook and cranny, making this the most moist (and caloric) cake imaginable.
While that certainly wasn't the last time I went exclusively for dessert, I wouldn't want to peg this restaurant as just a wine bar, just a cheese bar, or just a postprandial dessert spot. It's everything, and I enjoy everything about it. That's why I'll be going back--again.
No comments:
Post a Comment