Review: [Closed] Dinner at Corsino

 
cors+ricot+crost.jpg
 

*NOTE: This restaurant has since closed.*


Restaurant: Corsino
Cuisine: Italian, small plates
Location: 637 Hudson St. (at Horatio St.)

*All of my photos from this meal can be viewed on Flickr

In honor of her first return-visit to the Tri State area-since moving to Houston in June 2009-Allie and I invited Miss Susanna to join us for dinner at Corsino.

Despite being an incomplete party (ahem, Susanna was 45-minutes late!), the staff informed us that, since three out of the four of us were present, we could be seated.  In anticipation of Susanna's late arrival, Allie, her boyfriend, and I spent our time perusing and discussing both the restaurant's space and its food/cocktail menu.

 
Corsino: floor-to-ceiling doors open on to the sidewalk, allowing guests to dine semi-al-fresco

Corsino: floor-to-ceiling doors open on to the sidewalk, allowing guests to dine semi-al-fresco

 
 
Corsino: exposed wine storage, rustic wood-paneled accent walls, warm lighting, and large windows that allow for constant illumination

Corsino: exposed wine storage, rustic wood-paneled accent walls, warm lighting, and large windows that allow for constant illumination

 
 
Corsino: le menu

Corsino: le menu

 

By the time that our guest-of-honor finally arrived, the three of us were already sipping our second round of cocktails.  I chose the "Giardino," which is Italian for "garden," to quench my thirst.  Served in a highball glass over a mound of crushed ice was a refreshing and delicate (in the sense of alcohol aftertaste/burn) blend of balsamic vinegar, basil, and lemon-among other ingredients.  While the ingredients seemed more akin to a salad dressing, they proved to be a compatible match with the herbal Amaro.

 
Corsino: the "Giardino," or "garden," cocktail

Corsino: the "Giardino," or "garden," cocktail

 

After Susanna ordered a glass of wine, I asked our server if we could have a basket of bread.  "Oh, ya, we don't do that here," she replied, "but we do offer crostinis at $2.50/piece."  Interesting.  I always put "bread basket + olive oil" with Italian restaurants-"sliced baguette & butter" with French restaurants-and "chips & salsa" with Mexican restaurants (...even if you have to pay for the damn things here in NYC). 

I've got to hand it to Corsino, because their "no bread basket" tactic worked.  I ordered two crostinis: olive tapenade, and ricotta with orange honey.  While the latter was my favorite, both versions sat atop a thin, perfectly crisped, and buttery toast point.    

 
Corsino's olive tapenade crostini: too-salty olive tapenade had a delicate anchovy-essence and arrived atop a thin, buttered toast point

Corsino's olive tapenade crostini: too-salty olive tapenade had a delicate anchovy-essence and arrived atop a thin, buttered toast point

 
 
Corsino's ricotta + orange honey crostini: creamy ricotta cheese drizzled with sweet and fragrant orange-honey arrived atop a thin, buttered toast point

Corsino's ricotta + orange honey crostini: creamy ricotta cheese drizzled with sweet and fragrant orange-honey arrived atop a thin, buttered toast point

 

After our waitress took everyone else's entree orders, it was my turn.  "I'd like the Heritage Brisket Meatballs, please.  Do they come with anything, say, like a side of bread?"  I asked.  The waitress looked at me like I had three heads.  "Fine then, can you bring me a side of crostini bread?  Feel free to charge me extra,  thanks."

Aside from their drop-dead-gorgeous physique, I knew, before I even tasted them, that these meatballs would be special.  Three golf ball-sized mounds, having simmered in a robust marinara for god knows how long, formed a virtual triangle at the bottom of my shallow, white bowl.  The shredded pecorino cheese that topped the meatballs had morphed in to a crusty, golden brown, after spending a moment in the oven.  Using the crostini toast points to sop-up all of the hearty marinara sauce, I couldn't help but wonder, "What kind of meat blend does Corsino use to make their 'balls?"  Pork + beef + veal?  Or, pork + brisket + veal?  Could lamb have been involved in the mix?  Whatever the meat trinity was made for an unbelievably moist and fluffy (I hate to use that word) 'ball; and the addition of the marinara sauce and gooey, melted pecorino served as the "cherry on top." 

For the love of god, I cannot stop thinking about Corsino's Heritage Brisket Meatballs.  They were, truly, that outstanding.   

 
Corsino's Heritage Brisket Meatballs

Corsino's Heritage Brisket Meatballs

 

Aside from the fact that Corsino did not have a traditional gratis bread basket, I was thoroughly pleased with my meal (so sue me, I'm a carboholic).  Each item that I ordered, from the refreshing Giardino, to the crostinis and orgasmic-meatballs, was excellent.

Until we eat again,

Lindsay, The Lunch Belle