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On a block of Greenwich Avenue heavy on painted storefronts, their
window displays oozing charm, you might mistake the exterior of
Gusto Ristorante as just one more quaint spot, best saved for
another day. That would be a mistake. Once you cross the threshold
of Gusto, you enter into a world far removed from the West Village.
With a huge crystal chandelier hanging from an exposed wood-beam
ceiling and black velvet banquettes complementing a black-and-white
tiled floor, this fantasy-infused room is something Alice might have
discovered upon slipping into the rabbit hole. In the middle of the
dining room, there’s a stone staircase leading down into a private
dining cask lined with wine bottles, and a stone passageway to the
Italian futuristic bathrooms. Meanwhile, back upstairs, there’s a
second room beyond the front, almost a secret lounge, and all of
these rabbit-like warrens tied together by a design scheme
emphasizing rich and dark woods and lush fabrics.
And then there’s the food which is exactly what one might hope for
in such a delicious setting. Brunch, for example, finds you
salivating over a tray of still-warm bomboloni and egg-dipped wedges
of french toast and small pignoli-studded puffs – and that’s before
you’ve even ordered. Gusto is the kind of place which infuses its
own alcohol – with fresh cherries and blueberries, and poaches
winter fruit, and serves poached eggs on a ragout of tomatoes,
peppers and onions, topped with olive-oil grilled peasant bread.
Grilled radicchio with scamorza and crespelle plumped with goat
cheese, and everything you eat seems to take you back to that little
place on that piazza in that far corner of Firenze. Caffe Americano
is strong and delicious while caffe shakerato arrives in an
oversized martini glass, and the espresso granita melts on your
tongue and takes you right back to summer. You’re no longer in
winter, and far from Manhattan, when you’re dining at Gusto.
Best always,
Mark and Robert
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