CESCA [ 1/2] (two and one-half stars)
164 W. 75TH ST. (BETWEEN AMSTERDAM & COLUMBUS AVENUES) (212) 787-6300
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‘CESCA is the Upper West Side’s first truly good Italian restaurant above Lincoln Center. In a land of cramped, third-rate pasta parlors, it seems a dream come true – a grown-up setting for Tom Valenti’s suave take on rustic Italian cooking, with scarcely a red sauce in sight.
Getting a table at ‘Cesca is even harder than at Valenti’s Ouest, which first brought big-league American bistro cooking north of West 72nd Street. So, after waiting a week for a reservation and braving the zoo at the bar, you’ll be surprised to find a civilized dining room, quieter than Ouest’s and better proportioned.
Valenti patrols the open kitchen. Shaded lamps and iron chandeliers cast a mellow glow on beige walls stenciled with floral patterns and still lifes. Oak tables and brown velvet booths and banquettes offer everyone lots of elbow room.
You’ll need it to accommodate the inches a meal may add to your waistline. Valenti piles richness on richness so wantonly, you’re quickly seduced.
The smooth chemistry of his bold, earthbound flavors might overwhelm you – except that he usually finds a way to texture or sharpen it. “Comfort food” this isn’t.
My favorite dish is an $11 appetizer: glistening, paper-thin speck arrayed in a triangle under a crusted Parmesan cup filled with soft egg and crackling arugula – each element perfect, the textural interplay spectacular.
Valenti’s wine-, egg- and herb-rich sauces and stews craftily channel Italian countryside pleasures. A mighty pork shank ($24) in a fervent wine sauce finished with garlic meets tiny acini de peppe, nubbly pasta that sets off its near-liquid softness.
Presentations add notes of elegance to the gamy staples of Italy’s north and south. Dainty little rounds of luscious, pancetta-wrapped calves’ liver ($23) stand upright.
Croutons adorn tripe stew ($19) with red wine and pancetta – while tripe will never be my cup of tea, I’ll happily make room for Valenti’s gentlemanly version at my table.
A West 79th Street friend proclaimed her spicy bucatini all’Amatriciana ($16), ‘Cesca’s rare red-sauce dish, “the most perfect pasta I’ve ever had,” complexioned and deepened with pancetta, corn, egg and onion.
A moment later, her enthusiasm turned to a neighborhood friend and her husband, the Sea Grill’s great chef Ed Brown, at another table. We expressed delight at bumping into each other – the kind of cozy moment that ‘Cesca’s love-inflected cooking seems bound to inspire.
But the kitchen has moments of another sort, when clinkers dilute the joy. After fiery, cayenne-spiced parmigiano fritters ($6), some oddly bloodless choices are a letdown, like dry and underseasoned mackerel ($21).
Olive oil-poached red mullet ($11) arrived cold. Gooey pasta al forno with meat ragu under a cloud of bechamel ($18) lent cold-weather comfort but little in the way of flavor or contrast.
For dessert, go with the breathtaking refreshment of honey and goat milk gelato. Italian cheesecake made with mascarpone and ricotta and cut with bitter orange and fennel orange brittle is a transport to heaven.
Although ‘Cesca has yet to hit full stride, I wouldn’t wait until then to ask for a table – unless you want to wait even longer. Meanwhile, Mr. V., keep an eye on that kitchen.
