On a block of Greenwich Avenue heavy on painted storefronts, their window displays oozing charm, you might mistake the exterior of Gusto Ristorante as just one more quaint spot, best saved for another day. That would be a mistake. Once you cross the threshold of Gusto, you enter into a world far removed from the West Village. With a huge crystal chandelier hanging from an exposed wood-beam ceiling and black velvet banquettes complementing a black-and-white tiled floor, this fantasy-infused room is something Alice might have discovered upon slipping into the rabbit hole. In the middle of the dining room, there’s a stone staircase leading down into a private dining cask lined with wine bottles, and a stone passageway to the Italian futuristic bathrooms. Meanwhile, back upstairs, there’s a second room beyond the front, almost a secret lounge, and all of these rabbit-like warrens tied together by a design scheme emphasizing rich and dark woods and lush fabrics.

And then there’s the food which is exactly what one might hope for in such a delicious setting. Brunch, for example, finds you salivating over a tray of still-warm bomboloni and egg-dipped wedges of french toast and small pignoli-studded puffs – and that’s before you’ve even ordered. Gusto is the kind of place which infuses its own alcohol – with fresh cherries and blueberries, and poaches winter fruit, and serves poached eggs on a ragout of tomatoes, peppers and onions, topped with olive-oil grilled peasant bread. Grilled radicchio with scamorza and crespelle plumped with goat cheese, and everything you eat seems to take you back to that little place on that piazza in that far corner of Firenze. Caffe Americano is strong and delicious while caffe shakerato arrives in an oversized martini glass, and the espresso granita melts on your tongue and takes you right back to summer. You’re no longer in winter, and far from Manhattan, when you’re dining at Gusto.