A butcher's counter, and the room we built around it.
Cavallo is a concept, but the family behind it is drawn from a real kind of place — a coastal Italian household that ended up in Southern California with a set of knives and an opinion about beef.
Our grandfather came from Camogli, on the Ligurian coast, and brought two things with him: a roll of boning knives, and a photograph of the horse that pulled his father’s cart along the seafront.
For thirty years the family sold dry-aged beef and made fresh pasta from a small counter in Orange County. People would order a porterhouse for Sunday and a kilo of tagliolini for Monday, and stand around the case talking until it closed. Cavallo is the dining room we always meant to build around that counter.
The idea is a narrow one. Treat a steak with the seriousness of a tasting menu. Treat a plate of cacio e pepe with the same. Age the beef ourselves, roll the pasta every morning, pour wine from growers we have visited, and light the room like it is the last good hour of a long evening — because, often, it is.
We built Cavallo for the dinners that matter: the anniversary, the deal, the last night of a visit. And for a Tuesday, at the bar, with a Negroni and a plate of fritto misto.
Cavallo
It means horse. A nod to the photograph, and to what we wanted the restaurant to feel like: strength and restraint held in the same frame. Italian tailoring. An American steakhouse. An animal that is all power and stands quietly.
Executive Chef
Salvatore “Toto” Greco
Grew up cooking in Bagheria, spent a decade on the line in New York and Piedmont. Runs the fire and the pasta board with the same patience.
Pastry
Bianca Ferro
Third-generation Ferro. Makes the tiramisù to her grandmother's measurements and finishes it at your table.
Wine Director
Daniel Hoyt
Advanced Sommelier. Buys deep in Barolo and Brunello, and keeps a bench of Napa Cabernet for the dry-aged cuts.