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Casino isn’t a place you visit once a week. Most of the dishes are decadent and impractical, and that feels fitting.

For the best results, get the lemony whole roasted turbot or the filet mignon served on brioche coated in duck liver mousse.

Some starters, like the coppa topped with tart pickled celery, are unique and memorable, but others, like the mealy clams casino, taste like they came from an entirely different restaurant. The food is just as idiosyncratic and retro as the space, and it swings from fantastic to disappointing. (Any more and it would feel too ironic.) When you’re sitting in a U-shaped booth, surrounded by people who’ve adopted the espresso martini as a personality trait, you’ll feel like a plus-one at a party that might get a brief writeup in Vogue. The tablecloths are white, the floors are bright red, and there’s just the right number of faux-marble columns. Lots of restaurants these days are channeling a 1980s aesthetic, but at Casino, it doesn’t feel cheesy.

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