Casa don Alfonso puts on the ritz with a classic Italian experience

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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Chicken Supreme

Hey, you! Yeah, the one absorbed in your laptop, absently nibbling on that exquisite carpaccio and ignoring your dining companion. You’re sitting in probably the most elegant restaurant in St. Louis today, and nothing on that laptop is more important than either the person across the table or those rosy, gossamer flakes of beef, arranged with generous shavings of Parmesan. Those crusty, grainy, salty crystals, arugula, and a mustard aioli make Casa don Alfonso’s carpaccio starter as captivating as the rest of the menu, along with an interior and service that make a meal at the new Clayton restaurant such a wonderful experience.

The backstory: A four-generation, two-star Michelin restaurant in Italy spawned a stateside offspring. Attached to The Ritz, one immediately feels classier simply by walking in. Marble counters gleam. A flurry of crystal leaves float in mid-air above the elaborately inlaid parquet floor. Tables are spread across the luxurious space, along with banquette seating, but the light levels are too bright throughout. 

And that’s just the dining and bar area. The center of attention is on the open kitchen, where hand-painted Italian tiles shine and acres of copper lend a glowing luster. The cooking brigade’s a small army, providing the kind of polished dance that makes food preparation look both effortless and professional. Particularly entertaining is the dough station, where bread and pizza bases are cosseted into shape.

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Margherita pizza

Asked how long a pie roasts in the oven, the pizzaiolo says, “About three minutes.”  A bite of Casa don Alfonso’s pizza Margherita is close to perfection. And while pizza’s a nice shareable, this is a place for more substantial Italian classics. A lustrous ragout of short ribs is layered with noodles, ricotta, and green peas, all of it working together, every ingredient playing its own role. Lasagna noodles are handmade, like all pastas here. Ziti, tagliatelle, and maccheroni—for an extraordinary, ham-studded mac n’ cheese—are among the options. You aren’t going to be disappointed in any of them. And tender gnocchi are tossed in a tomato sauce, with mozzarella, basil, and Parmesan.

None of the secondi are overly extravagant. Some, such as the chicken, are deceptively simple. But all are magnificent examples of Southern Italian cuisine. The half chicken is roasted—that’s it. But, oh, what a roasting it is, with the skin glistening, salty-sweet and crisp, every bite of the flesh juicy, the flavor so intense that it turns “it tastes like chicken” into an encomium. It would be hard to imagine a better side than the bowl of butter, with just enough mashed potatoes to hold it together.

At the other end of the spectrum, polpette napoletane are the royalty of meatball-dom. Forget the leaden spheres-o’-beef that burden too many Italian-joint plates. Here, they’re airy cushions of meat and bread; tomato ragout seems to keep them from floating away, held in place atop a base of basil-flecked polenta and a drizzle of garlic cream.

We were ready to get huffy—the shrimp in the fritto misto should have been fritto-ed with the shell on for an authentic coastal Italian presentation. One bite, though, and we changed our mind. They are astonishing, more like tiny lobsters and mixed with calamari, the batter golden and delicate. Forget the accompanying dips. They’re tasty—especially the lemon mayo —but this seafood needs nothing extra.

Aside from the aforementioned carpaccio, another opulent starter is the fine-sliced fried eggplant slices alla Parmigiana. Even better is a burrata Caprese salad, with fat globs of fresh cheese exploding over arugula, along with a pesto dressing and the sweetest cherry tomatoes this side of the Sorrento Coast.

A walk-through wine cooler is impressive, though the list seems geared toward expense accounts. Signature cocktails add to the chic ambience.

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Beef Carpaccio

What’s Italian for “lagniappe”? We were soon on overload trying to take them all in. Three different breads arrive as soon as you sit down; the quality of the olive oil for swiping is instantly detectable. It’s Sicilian, all grassy and fruit. The double heating at the kitchen’s pickup area is a nice touch, with lamps above and induction elements below the quartzite counter. Eggs provide the richness of the lasagna—there isn’t any butter or cream—and the addition of hardboiled eggs gives the dish a distinctive but subtle taste.

Try to keep track. Or just sit back and enjoy Casa don Alfonso’s casa. Just leave the laptop at home.