Philadelphia Weekly

Cardiac diet: Caff� Casta Diva's sauteed artichoke hearts are tender and mellow (photo by michael persico).

In the golden age of the Italian BYOB, back when branzino seemed exotic and DiBruno's had only one location, chefs couldn't roll pasta fast enough. Considering this was at the dawn of the new millennium, Caff� Casta Diva was a little late out of the gate. The Polly Pocket-sized bistro premiered in 2002, as non-Italian-Americans were already getting hip to the diffs between pappardelle and tagliatelle.

Despite its late start, Casta Diva became many an Italophile's go-to BYOB. But after going steady for six years, chef/owner Stephen Vassalluzzo closed for a decorating exorcism that cast out the gilt mirrors, dusty drapes and faded buttercup paint. Reopened in September, the space's new walls alternate soft sage and deep evergreen, embellished with framed opera posters and circular mirrors clustered together like Prosecco bubbles. Cherry floors shine like steamrolled red licorice, leading the way into a 20-seat expansion.

The new decor hasn't deterred the old clientele. You can still observe wealthy, well-groomed Rittenhouse dinosaurs in their natural habitat, talking about the grandkids at Penn and how the economy forced them to sell their condo in Palm Beach. Outside the sleek eggplant and exposed-brick bathroom, the aroma of mothballs rose from a pile of winter coats.

With Vassalluzzo cooking, it was easy to forget the odor. From the house-baked, rosemary-flecked focaccia to the tiramisu, the South Philly native delivered two effortless, elegant meals you might not expect from a self-taught chef and former Temple physics major.

Though you've seen many of Vassalluzzo's dishes at other ristoranti--calamari, roasted beets with Gorgonzola and walnuts, Caesar salad--his use of superior ingredients elevates them to a more distinctive plane. Scored and sauteed, the lemony squid was extra tender. Earthy, sweet Chioggia beets, an Italian heirloom, made the ubiquitous beet salad more interesting, their alternating red and white rings like an archer's bullseye in a forest of bull's blood baby greens. White anchovies--draped like tinsel over torn romaine--gave the Caesar its ocean-y brine.

Whittled to its heart, the sauteed artichoke looked like a giant yellow rose left out in the sun to dry, all singed edges and tender stem. Its mellow tang echoed, even after I'd proceeded to the clean, simple seafood stew brimming with mussels, diver scallops, lobster, calamari and shrimp.

Vassalluzzo makes his pastas by hand every day, and the results charmed: thin, eggy crespelle hugging pipes of ricotta and spinach; ricotta-fluffed gnocchi dressed with Gorgonzola, pancetta and peas; wild boar ravioli, old-school and of-the-moment all at once.

Quibbles were minor, like how luscious strips of braised boar would be an improvement on the slightly dry, crumbly ground meat filling those square pasta parcels; or how the portion sizes target American, rather than Italian, appetites. Polishing off an entire bowlful of gnocchi, no matter how feather-light the potato dumplings are, makes it hard to get through dessert. Dragging a corner of focaccia through the last streak of tangy, creamy Gorgonzola sauce, I ordered tiramisu anyway.

While many trattorias opt for boxed, Vassalluzzo makes his tiramisu from scratch. You can taste the time and effort layered among the Kahlua, rum and espresso-soaked ladyfingers, imported Mascarpone and Dutch cocoa. The rest of the desserts were just as good: decadent chocolate torte topped with house-spun sweet cream gelato; Barolo-poached Bosc pears infused with clove, cinnamon and star anise; and classic, chip-studded ricotta cannoli. Vassalluzzo smartly sources the barely sweet, cloudlike ricotta from Mancuso & Son on East Passyunk and fills the house-baked, chocolate-dipped, pistachio-crusted cannoli shells to order.

Even sweeter are the prices. It's hard to hit $100 with tip, even if you spring for the swank La Colombe French press for two (which you should). Tuesday through Thursdays Casta Diva offers a $30 three-course "Recession Menu." The Italian BYOB boom might be nearly dead, but Caff� Casta Diva proves it's hardly extinct.