Magnificent Casa Mono – NYC

This week’s theme is cross-country indulgence, and not the kind of indulgence you can buy from the pope. This week is about the over-the-top, the excessive, and the way too much. This is the week we gorge, and it all starts in NYC because no one can put it down like New York City and no one can serve it up like Casa Mono.

No one would consider the chewy, often-rubbery Pulpo an indulgence, but I guess anything becomes rich when it’s lightly fried. No one makes pulpo like the Spanish, even if its pronounciation sounds like it got smashed in a juicer. The pulpo is improved by the bitter bits of grapefruit pulpo, and shiny white slices of crunch give you a fabulous fixin’ of fennel.

I expected the Mussels to be the lighter app, but not when they’re doused in Spain’s equivalent of bacon. These mussels are ensconced by red droplets of oil emanating from the grainy pork. I prefer my mussels sweeter, but the cava adds a bitter edge so I can’t say I cared for the combination. My tastes aside, Casa Mono gets an A for this indulgent effort.

I generally order artichoke everywhere I go, but I’m in awe of the Artichoke at Casa Mono. Fresh mint and oil give the light-and-sour a deep mmm that digs deep down to the base of your tastebuds.

I heart pate, and I really heart the Duck Heart Pate that accompanies the blood-red-pinks of seared Duck Breast. The breast is juicy, and the pate is a smooth-melting grain.  Sorry skeptics, offal is just not as awful as it sounds.

I used to think that the farther you got from Union Square’s tricked out touristic taints, the better the food would get. On the continuum of Baohaus, to the iconic Momofuku, all the way down to the legendary Spotted Pig, this theory works, but Casa Mono holds firm on 18^th and Irving, turning my theory to dust.