I originally wanted to dine at Mora Italian for the same reason that I assume many others do: to see if the brutally honest Chopped judge, who scoffs at overcooked pasta and gawks at raw onions, was the real deal. Well, I can say with confidence that Scott Conant doesn't mess around.
First of all, get the bread cart. Why? Two words: mascarpone butter. In a perfect world, everything I eat would be slathered with it. You may be tempted to pass, but this is no ordinary bread basket. The pasta dishes were fresh and perfectly cooked with well-developed sauces. The spaghetti pomodoro was creamy with all of the cheesy, savory notes that dreams are made of. The side dishes had interesting flavor combinations and came in surprisingly large portions. The broccoli rabe was crisp with a welcome heat, while the roasted beets were earthy and smoky. The cubano coconut cake rounded out the whole meal with its surprisingly light sweetness.
As far as the ambiance, Mora's vibe is ritzy and certainly a bit flashy. It's not necessarily my scene, but I'll cast that aside for great food and refreshing cocktails any day.