It was only last year that chef Salvo Lo Castro, a Sicilian who spent nearly three decades cooking for some of the most powerful people in Italy, opened his first espresso bar, Casasalvo, in New York. With Rome-sourced roasts so deep they activate the internal corners of your mouth with a tobacco-y zing, the café took off. And by 2025, the chef—who will joyfully tell you himself how successful his foray into American hospitality has been—launched three more around Manhattan (one he plans on closing, and another is under renovations). On Sunday, July 20, Lo Castro debuted a new Casasalvo: his first-ever full restaurant as chef-owner.
The property is prime Soho real estate, right on the corner of Spring Street and Sullivan, and possesses all the tell-tale signs of an Italian venue in New York: a carmine red Campari umbrella, a green and white striped awning emblazoned with “Casasalvo New York City,” above tables dressed in white linen with modern armchairs and Aperol-branded pillows. The dark, rich interior features Italian walnut-paneled walls and deep green and auburn leather chairs. The large white marble tile, an onyx bar with a gold illuminated backsplash, a petite balcony beside open French doors and potted citrus and olive trees balance out the moody ambiance with softer touches.
The space is splashy but still subdued, likely drawing inspiration from the upscale establishments for which Lo Castro once cooked. (The chef spent his formative years cooking at seaside luxury hotels, including the San Domenico Palace and Mazzarò Sea Palace, before becoming the private chef for the Vatican and the Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi.) Despite online reservations saying “fully booked” a few hours before my 7:30 p.m. indoor reservation, the dining room is empty when I arrive, and feels too stuffy for a gorgeous 70-something degree gem of a New York night.
I request to dine al fresco instead. Only one table is available, which sends the two hosts into a bit of an awkward scramble, but we make it through. One later apologized for going back and forth with her co-host and shared that her Italian is stronger than her English—a fact I find more refreshing than problematic when going out for Italian food, even, and perhaps especially, in Soho.
The servers and hosts are doting, but this slightly chaotic energy is a thread throughout the meal. The menu, written in Italian with no descriptions, has a typo that accidentally turns the broccoli rabe into a profanity. Staff members check in so frequently that conversations are interrupted a fair amount, though the main server, Marco, is detail-oriented and conscientious. Despite a dedicated Aperol Spritz Bar on the balcony, the drink isn’t as effervescent as I like when the 3-2-1 ratio (three parts Prosecco, two parts Aperol and one part sparkling water) is properly assembled, but they’re happy to add a bit more bubbly. Lastly, not everything served is congruent with the dish titles, which I think is a creative liberty Lo Castro takes as a private chef running a full-scale restaurant. This makes life harder as a critic, but his riffs don’t compromise the quality or flavor of his southern Italian-Mediterranean fare.
Lo Castro is charismatic, animated and nearly pops the buttons off his crisp white chef’s coat with his warm energy. He visits guests tableside, depending on how many entrées are being fired or whether he feels like leaving the kitchen, to debone the Dover sole. The fish (an $80 entrée ideal for two people) is fresh and beautifully tender. The skin is crisp and coated in salt. Lo Castro, who grew up on his grandfather’s hazelnut farm and grandmother’s rotisserie on the Ionian Sea, removes it with grace and precision as he chats about his exciting career here in New York and asks about my guest’s and my backgrounds. The fish is served with just a drizzle of olive oil and lemon, which is all it needs—the taste and quality are excellent. The menu says it has fresh mint, but Lo Castro whips up a blended red and green bell pepper sauce instead and spoons a small portion on the side of the dish. It’s bright and herbaceous, but I could eat this fish weekly without it.
Other entreés range from Sicilian jumbo shrimp and whole branzino to veal parmesan, a $100 lamb chop and Ossobuco. Appetizers include some classics like grilled octopus, burrata with prosciutto, Sicilian meatballs, calamari and a Mediterranean salad, which is stacked with large chunks of ricotta salata, sweet baby tomatoes and a fresh pureed pesto and zippy olive oil. The oil at Casasalvo is rich, earthy and bright—drizzled on many dishes and, for bread service, poured on a vintage blue floral plate with oregano snipped from a plant on the table. The bread is flecked with herbs and olives that have a nice flavor, but the external texture is a little too crunchy and dry.
There is also raw fish, such as tuna sashimi, tuna tartare and red shrimp carpaccio. I try the Mediterranean ceviche, which Marco says comes with calamari, octopus and white fish. Served on a large radicchio leaf, it looks like it was just netted out of the sea and sliced up. To prepare it, Lo Castro soaks it for 24 hours in sugar and water, followed by Sorrento lemon juice and salt. It is extremely tender, with subtleties of sweet, citrus flavor that let the fish shine.
For the pasta course, I opt for the ravioli, recommended by Marco—he described it as having a white fish filling and a light cream sauce. I would not call it a cream sauce, as the ravioli arrives topped with a sautéed tuna ragu with fresh herbs and tomatoes. This is savory and earthy—a lovely complement to the smooth, pureed white fish filling that, I do believe, included a touch of cream, sharp Italian cheese and some tomato. The inside was not fishy and tasted sweet, almost like butternut squash. I was wary that a creamy white fish ravioli would be too rich, but the execution makes it an ideal dish for a summer or early fall night.
While Lo Castro’s unexpected riffs on menu items may not make Casasalvo the kind of restaurant you return to time and again for a replicated dish, it stands as an authentic neighborhood Italian spot—at least one with residents who can afford $38 calamari and a $170 porterhouse for two. Lo Castro’s confident, creative nature and expansive knowledge of Mediterranean and Italian food shine throughout his twists and turns. As he dips in and out of the kitchen, greeting guests and sharing his journey, it sets a certain rhythm—one that only a true Sicilian can drum up cooking in their own kitchen. And if Italians really do it better, then “chissenefrega!”
