Caffé Casta Diva

Stephen Vassalluzzo is the handsomest young chef in center city. When he meanders from the kitchen and frequents the dining room at his cozy shebang of a bistro, women’s eyes follow his visage with a pensive passion; men’s eyes contain envy. Note that after each vowel in his name, there is a double-consonant; hence the spelling of "Caffé," I suspect. But looks and linguistics aside, two-year old CCD leads the league of BYOB-Italian trattorias in all respects. In contrast to some others, you can even hold conversations here with your dining partners without having to squint to listen, and without having to glare at other tables, seeking cacophony-courtesies. I think it’s because the food draws you in, leaning forehead forward, mouth watering, mentally engaged.

There can’t be more than twenty-five seats at neatly clothed tables, lit above by spare wall sconces and a hung-from-ceiling cone-shaped lamp old enough to have made a Depression-home brighter. Maroon velvet swag-drapes frame the huge storefront window as if they were wide curtains surrounding a movie screen. Pedestrians along 20th Street are the cast of characters. However, once the covered basket of hot bread (homemade golden rolls, olive-oiled to a faultless gleam) arrives, all attention is focused on your fork-hand’s commensal relationship with your mouth.

You should not miss these Appetizers: Carpaccio Di Salmone ($10), or Melanzane Repiene ($7). The former are erect spirals of thinly sliced smoked salmon posturing above ovals of peppered white goat cheese and capers. The lox languishes upon your tongue, waiting for you to coat its saltiness with a brandish of rich, creamy cheese. The mixture, as you chew, becomes marbleized and magniloquent, because swallowing causes a frenetic frisson as your vocal chords attempt, with eventual success, to groan.

The Malanzane Repiene is a triad of curved and rolled eggplant slices wrapping barely al dente asparagus spears, all of which have retired to a platter full of dark lipstick-red gravy redolent of basil. Spring Mix lettuces abundantly share the plate. My grandmother used to take all day to cook something as discerningly homey as this (making the house smell like heaven on earth), and when she did, the words "saint" and "ahlaydmahfdir" reverberated throughout.

Specials often include Calamari and Mussels, a huge bowl amply endowed with glistening squid’s rings and thoroughly cleaned mussels in a tangy hot-flaked spicy sauce. Moreover, very special (and off the menu) are thick whole dry sea scallops robed in Parma prosciutto, steaming above a light tomato cream broth. The mollusk must be cut in half, simply to fit between one’s lips. The "ham" trails daintily behind, wisped upward by an inhale. Your eyes close instinctively so that nothing visual disturbs the tasks of your taste buds.

The second courses are belly balms. Pappardelle Sinfonia ($21), for instance, is a bowl of wide premises-made tri-color pasta hidden below a bevy of grilled shrimp, scallops and splayed jumbo lump crabmeat. So dense and burbling with movement is the conglomeration of ingredients as your utensils prod and poke, it may seem as if some of the delectables are playing hide-and-seek in crushed tomatoes. The fettuccine is silken and slippery, best eaten in strands rolled with fork upon soupspoon. Your cheeks bulge profusely even though a goodly portion of the pasta, which missed its mark, hangs limply onto your chin. Gulping and slurping help to extinguish your messiness, but not before you are spinning and thrusting another contumacious passage of pappardelle upward and inward.

The highest priced menu items are reserved for CCD’s brilliant chops. The supremely succulent Veal Chop ($24) is inwardly moist from the marinating flavors of marsala-soaked mushrooms. Prepared medium rare, the thick filet-on-bone is darkly perfect. "Oozes profusely" is probably too subtle a phrase to describe the plethora of juices which spurt when your knife slashes the veal’s girth. The diluvial liquids make the surrounding porcini swim to safety, to be nabbed in unilateral acts of mercy, and carried to your waiting palate. You may need more focaccia and a dipping bowl filled with virgin olive oil in order to wipe the plate sparkling clean.

The Sirloin Strip Steak ($24) is seared to an outer crisp. It quivers when pushed, not knowing that you’re simply looking for a better cutting angle. It seems to be listening to the operatic arias playing in the background. It sweats a bit when a soprano reaches highest "C," accompanied by flutes. The meat is accompanied by a goat cheese and peppercorn slather that tastes more melodious than it sounds. The steak’s inside is as pink as the face of a juror caught napping.

CCD’s tiramisu dessert is becoming legendary. Ladyfingers are sprayed by a shower of espresso to form a sandwich around solidly sweet mascarpone cheese, then crusted by deep cocoa flavoring powder. Share with someone who’s ordered a chocolate-espresso crème brulée, or a cannoli outwardly swollen by chocolate and pistachio dippings.

A new fall menu is in nascent progress, Chef Vassalluzzo informs, but this Caffé will remain consistently consonant with classic excellence, if not double so.