The Salted Espresso

2010-07-04T10:39:00.000-07:00

So this week when Mary Beth Mckenzie worked on my underpainting I decided it could be a good idea to take a photo of her corrections. Then I decided it might be helpful to take a photo of my painting day by day and try to figure out where I made good, clear decisions and where I simply pushed paint around on a canvas.

PHASE 1: I took this photo right after Mary Beth worked on my painting. She came by and quickly corrected a very dubious drawing, and essentially did all of what you see here. She doesn't use any turp or oils- just directly "scrubs" the paint onto the canvas. She works very fast and rarely hesitates. But every stroke she puts down serves a clear function. She told me painting is about "going back and forth between line, negative shape, and volume" and that I can't "trust anything" I put down until I'm really sure of it, and that often won't happen until I have all the corresponding parts down as well.

PHASE 2: This is at at the end of day one. I almost didn't put the lights in but I'm glad I did. In a way, I think I like the painting the most at this stage. It reads in a simple way and I like the midtone patterns on her upper back/lower neck.

PHASE 3: End of day 2 and the weakest stage in the painting, I think. I felt very timid and focused on the midtones (the hardest part of the painting) instead of blocking in the chair or her red robe. As a result I lost a lot of the lights i had established the day before and those I did keep (like her left shoulder) I just made lighter and they didn't read at all. At this point I really felt like I was going backwards not forward. Look at how sharp that shoulder blade is! It looks more like the corner of a cube jutting out of her back.

PHASE 4: Still I worked very slowly, but felt like I finally started to regain control of the painting. I tried to visualize the different shapes on her back and how light would travel across them. Her shoulder blades gave me the most trouble and I never really figured them out. Still, it looks vaguely 3-D I think. Also brought back some of the lights I had lost the day before and toned them down a bit so they weren't that far off from the midtones and darks.

PHASE 5: Last day to finish the painting and I finally realize how important the chair/robe/background is. If, for example, I had blocked in the chair earlier, it would have been a LOT easier to show its reflected blue light on the shadowed part of her back. And if I had done that, then it would have been easier to get a nicer/ higher chroma color in for the midtones on the middle section of her back. Of course, this is all stuff I discover 3o minutes before class is over. eh.

Also- I couldn't get her hair. It's way too mat.

But on the positive side, I really had a lot of fun playing with the palette knife instead of using a brush. It's probably hard to see from these photos, but a lot of lights are put on with the knife.

Oh, I also lost the shadow on her cheek/jaw which I had in the day before. I may go back and try to fix that.

Quick poses with toned paper

2010-06-27T10:47:00.000-07:00

The following drawings where done on white paper toned with charcoal powder. I saw a fellow student and amazing draftsman, Isaac Pelepko, doing this one day and decided to give it a shot. I found it immensely helpful. Working with toned paper forces you to erase as much as you draw, which really forces you to see the lights on a figure (i.e. the parts of an object that light hits directly, as opposed to the shadows, which the light doesn't reach).

I thought I was being clever by establishing my lights in some sort of a hatching system. Now i just find it distracting.

I remember drawing this one and hating it at the time. In hindsight, I don't dislike it nearly as much. Its very rough which may be the reason I like (and dislike) it.

These don't read very well but whatever.

This is my best one, I think. Which is funny, because I don't really remember drawing it at the time.

I only worked this way for about a week but learned soo much. Last week I went back to trying it and will post my results soon. Now that I know more about modeling factors, I'll hopefully be more aware of the midtones!

I'm linking to Isaac Pelepko's website here. Just a disclaimer; Isaac's stuff might be a bit racy for some but its also very very funny.

2010-06-27T10:22:00.000-07:00

This was done sometime in November or December at the Art Student's league? It was a 20 minute pose and I got very lucky with it I think. Mostly because it reads somewhat as being three dimensional and at the time, I didn't really know how to break the figure down in terms of its modeling factors, or rather, its varying parts that make it look like an object existing in space (e.g. the shadows, half tones, lights, reflected light etc). I'm certain that if it was a 40 minute pose I would have ruined it. Hell, I probably would have ruin it even now if I tried to make it a "finished" drawing!
A 1 or 2 minute pose that was very fun to draw.
I'm proud of this one because, unlike most of my stuff, I had a clear idea from the beginning on how to execute the drawing. I very roughly drew in the basic mass of the figure and afterwards went in and made small adjustments that (hopefully) made it look more specific and "real". For example, I first saw the torso and ribcage as a sphere or some kind, and only afterwards went in with harder lines and realized that there was foreshortening under her right arm ( sort of like a triangle of negative space beginning under her arm pit and extending near the side of her breast).

Looking at this drawing and trying to comment on different parts of her body is making me realize that I really need to study anatomy! Frank Porcu's anatomy lectures here I come!

Work from the last few months

2010-06-27T09:54:00.000-07:00

So I have a few photos I've taken of my work over the last few months. Most of these are very quick poses, done usually in 1 to 5 minute periods. I'll take more photos of my paintings and post them soon. All comments and critics welcome.

These are two quick poses I did a while ago, probably back in August or September of last year at Spring Street Studio in Manhattan. They're two of my favorite, not because they are "correct" (Something goofy is going on with the rib cage of the figure on the right, for example). Far from it. But I like them because they are some of the first drawings where I attempted to see the figure completely in terms of abstract, geometrical shapes. It's a great training exercise and can really help at getting the "gesture" of a pose.

Pizza to art

2010-06-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

Okay so I've decided to transform this blog from one about pizza to one about making art. I'm going to post the sketches and paintings I've been making at the Art Student's League in the hopes of somehow keeping a visual record of my progress. I'm going to try to post everything I do, whether I like it or not. Hopefully, I'll still do the occasional pizza review or talk about different ideas have for pizzas. If anyone has any pizza suggests or comments, please keep posting them! Also, anything to do with art is good, too.

thanks!

apple, guanciale, and ricotta pie

2010-03-16T16:23:00.000-07:00

Today, I made a pizza with apples, guanciale, parm, ricotta, chevre, and a little sausage. I cut the apple horizontally and sliced it thinly using the mandolin. I first put down large chunks of parm on the dough, hoping they would crispy up in a nice hard way. They didn't. I put the apple on top of the parm, followed by the ricotta and goat cheese. I hoped that the apple, between the three cheeses would be well insulated against the open flame of the oven and luckily I was right. It didn't burn and instead baked nicely. Its juices mixed with the cheeses and baked into the dough, giving the entire pie a very subtle, slightly sweet flavor. The guanciale crisped up very nicely and added an important element that the pie desperately needed: salt. I enjoyed the sausage but am not sure it added anything to the pie.

Next time, I want to cut the parm is long thin slices and hope they crisp up like the burnt edges on a grilled cheese.

Everyone seemed to like it, even the guys in the back kitchen. I've still been thinking about a pinto bean, chorizo and feta cheese pizza. let you know what I come up with.

Pizza Creation Tuesdays

2010-03-04T08:09:00.001-08:00

Working during the day on tuesdays at Roberta's is a bit slow. There's a lot of prep work and not as much pizza making. But one of my favorite parts of the day is having the time to experiment with different pies. Gabe, a chef from the back kitchen usually comes up front with an idea for a new creation.

Last week he made pizza with chickpeas, paprika, ricotta and thin slices of blood red oranges. It was amazingly zestful and light. It took pizza in a direction I had never even thought of. I absolutely loved it.

This week he made a pie with Coppa (an italian salumi), tomato sauce, mozzarella, swiss chard, and cured green olives. The Coppa developed a nice bacon crispiness in the oven which almost cut the surprisingly strong, somewhat bitter flavor or the swiss chard. The green olives had a spicy punch that lingered on your tongue the entire way. The sauce and mozzarella seemed to bring all the toppings together.

I'm going into work tomorrow morning and showing Angelo, my boss, how to make the neapolitan dough I learned how to make in Naples. Wish me luck!

I made pizza for Tony Bennett

2010-02-16T09:28:00.000-08:00

So I made pizza for Tony Bennett last night. Well, actually, Paige, my co-worker, made it while I looked on.

He ordered a margherita and a Beastmaster which has tomato sauce, capers, jalapenos, mozz, gorgonzola, red onion and sausage. Mr. Bennett likes his pizzas round and with the cheese on top.

And I can say now, from personal eye witness account, that all that tabloid slander surrounding the supposed "Tony Bennett pizza eating crisis" is completely not true. Mr. Bennett eats his pies in a very proficient manner He eats pizza like your average joe (pointed end first leading towards the crust).

Take that National Enquirer.

Also, last week, a few co-workers told me that Kirsten Dunst came into Roberta's. But I still think it was just a blonde girl with an expensive coat.

idea for pizza making

2010-01-31T11:42:00.000-08:00

Last night my friend and his parents came to Roberta's while I was working. My friend is a vegan and his parents are vegetarians. So I tried my hand at a non-meat, non-dairy pie for them and came up with one with tomato sauce, garlic, red onions, Brussels sprouts, red pepper flakes and oregano.

At about 11 I had my dinner break and and made the same pie minus the onions . Then something pretty cool happened. I started to add gorgonzola to each slice I had. The strong flavor of the gorgonzola mixed incredible well with the bitter, slightly burnt flavor of the brussel sprouts. Then to top it off, the pepper flakes curbed both the gorg and the sprouts before they became overwhelmingly dominant- ending each bite with a spicy kick. Despite putting two ladles of sauce on the pie, I couldn't taste the tomato at all!

That gave me an idea for a new approach towards making pies. I'm very meat and cheese centric when it comes to developing new types of pizza. I'll think of a spicy soppressata or a creamy burrata and use that as the jumping off point for the rest of the pie. Maybe I'll add some olives to the salami or some onions to the burrata and then try to think of another ingredient that compliments the first two flavors well- building the pie outward from there. I start with the cheese or meat because they are generally the most distinguished ingredients.

But what if you started with a vegetable as the center of your pie first and only added other ingredients (including cheese and meat) that were complimentary to it? This is what I did last night when I made the pie for my friend and his parents. I thought of brussels sprouts first, and only afterwards, did I think of the gorgonzola. I think this approach will yield some interesting new vegetarian (and non vegetarian) pies. I'm excited to try it.

I'm also very excited about the brussels sprouts, gorg, and pepper flake combo. I think it has a lot of potential to create an intensely delicious pie.

I'll keep you posted on my progress.

2010-01-25T10:47:00.000-08:00

I worked at Roberta's all weekend, including doing my first double shift on saturday. It was stressful to say the least ( i barely looked up from my station all night). So if anyone came in to say hi, thanks for stopping by. Sorry I didn't see you.

I'll write more about work soon. For now, I'm pretty exhausted (my back and neck the most). But to say the least, I think I will really like working at Roberta's. Within the last few days I've already learned sooo much about how temperamental the dough can be . I'm looking forward to learning more.

Below are some pictures of me and my brother making pizza over christmas break. We made the pies in my godfather's brick oven which he just finished building himself. We got a really nice rise out of our dough.

Depitting Olives

2010-01-20T14:28:00.000-08:00

Today was my first day at Roberta's Pizzeria in Brooklyn. It was a bit of slow day. The lack of costumers lead me to other things, such as depitting olives. I depitted 293 olives today- give or take. It's hard to tell the exact number because every dozen or so I'd forget that I was counting and just guess at the correct number.

I depitted the olives by smashing them against a baking pan. I quickly discovered that to successfully smash each olive, I couldn't smash more than two at a time. It went very slowly at first.

2...4...6....8....10....12...14...

Then something miraculous happened. The olives began to warm up and they became easier to smash. I could smash THREE olives at a time! Eureka!

87...90....93....96....99...103..

I quickly tried to smash 4 olives at once and discovered that it was an impossibility. It was just one olive too much. I had gotten too prideful. I humbly moved back down to three.

Not all olives are created equal. Some are soft and some are hard. Some have small pits that easily detach themselves from their olive meatiness and others possess large, stubborn pits that fight the entire way- making my fingers work harder.

What kind of olive would I be? An easy going olive that gleefully jumps from its outer shell or a tough little fucker that's sole purpose is to make the guy who depits them angry and spiteful?

These are a few of the questions I asked myself while depitting 293 olives- give or take.

115...118...121....124....127....

A party of six comes into Roberta and places a large order.

"Hey Zach, you need an extra hand making those pies?"

"No, Gus. Just keep depitting those olives. You're doing a great job."

130...133...136....139....141...

There's a one pizza one shift role at Roberta's which means each day I get to make and eat my own pizza. The pie I made today was a mishmash of all the toppings I've wanted to try but havent gotten a chance to yet: It had tomato sauce, mozzarella, taleggio, speck, red onions, and brussel sprouts. It was an overcrowded pizza that wasn't particularly good.

The taleggio and sprouts were easily my favorite ingredients.

The taleggio is very well balanced- creamy and strongly tart towards the end. I can't imagine that it will stand out too well with a tomato based pizza though. I mostly see it working well on white pies- acting as an anchoring flavor-pulling together your mozzarella, ricotta and even parmigiano.

I was surprised at how flavorful the brussel sprouts are. They have a clean, slightly bitter taste that reminded me of a good egg roll. Can't wait to start experimenting with it as a topping.

I was least impressed by the speck. I don't have anything against Roberta's speck specifically, just speck in general. It tasted way to salty too me. And though it adds a nice textual crunch, I don't find it to have the same body of flavor you get with a soppressata.

That's it for now. More on my olive depitting adventures next post.

New Job and great pizza

2010-01-20T07:07:00.001-08:00

It's been a few months since my last post. a quick update: I just got a job at Roberta's !

It's in Bushwick off of the L train. Anyone in Brooklyn or greater NY should come out and visit me. I'm working today.

I'll post more soon about Roberta's friendly environment and great selection of pies. Until then, hopefully this will tide you over.

Franny's (Flatbush Ave in Brooklyn)

2009-09-28T09:48:00.000-07:00

Ah the provolone pie! We went to Franny's the other night and tried a uniquely deliciously pie. It had provolone piccante, tomato sauce, and onions. It's quite refreshing to see another cheese compete for the spot light on pizza's center stage. Far too few pizzerias are willing to venture outside the mozzarella safe zone. This pie is an edible monument towards the glory that is provolone. Every other ingredient is (for better or worse) an aftertaste. Like Chris Bianco's Rosa, you'll probably love it or hate. But at least you can applaud the tenacity to try to pull this thing off.

The provolone piccante begins with a tangy, almost nutty flavor which leads into a zestly slightly spicy finish. It’s less salty and more full-bodied than either parmigiano-reggiano or pecoro romano but no less sharp. This is an aggressively present cheese which, unlike mild mozzarella, demands your entire attention. As a result, the pie is not very nuanced or balanced. Occasionally I could taste the onions that were trying to cut the provolone's intensity. But they weren't doing a particularly good job. In a way, this pie reminds me of a less sophisticated Mari. That being said, I loved this pie. I loved that someone thought enough of provolone to put it on their pizza and service it to their clientele.

Di Fara's

2009-07-19T07:43:00.000-07:00

I have mixed feelings about Di Fara's and have put off writing about it for a while. It's considered an excellent (if not the premier) pizzeria in NYC. I went over a year ago, days before hopping on a plane to Naples, and didn't think it was worth the hype. I decided to go for a second time and realized that maybe my flavor centric approach towards reviewing isn't always the best way to judge a pizzeria.

We took a shaky train through the green foliage and street graffiti of Brooklyn, stepped out into the summer humidity and found ourselves at the end of an hour long wait. We waited. An hour turned into an hour and twenty minutes. I killed time by skimming the articles written about Di Fara's that lined the wall. There were too many to count and they all seemed to say pretty much the same thing: best. pizzeria. ever.

Dom Demarco, Di Fara's owner and master pizzaiolo, is an elderly man with a slight hunch whose gaze rarely rises above his work to the gawking crowd around him (that included my flashing camera, btw). Whether it's scizzoring fresh basil over bubbling cheese or sticking his ungloved hands deep into the heat of the oven Demarco makes his pies with the confidence of a sleepwalker. He performs every task as if its an extension of himself, as if rotating a pie is as natural to him as biting into an apple.

That might explain why so many of the reviews the adorn the walls in Di fara's are less about the pizza and more about the man behind the pizza. I thought of this as I watched the crowds hungrily watch Demarco make his pies. There seemed to be more fervor for the immediancy of the moment ("we're here! we're actually at di fara's!") and less for the pies, which, for the record were good, though Demarco uses enough olive oil to drown an entire neapolitan family. This has gotten me thinking; what is it about a particular pizzeria or restuarant that gets most of us excited? Is it the food itself or some sort of personalizing quality behind the food -something that makes us less aware of the food and more aware of the moment in which we experience the food?

2009-07-08T11:34:00.000-07:00

Just got back into NYC and am looking forward to doing some eating and reviewing. A few people have already sent this my way and I thought I'd pass it along:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/08/dining/08pizza.html?8dpc

A pretty nice article. But I do disagree with what he say's about Keste (though, I haven't tried the sausage pizza yet)

Pizza Hiatus

2009-06-25T11:51:00.000-07:00

I'll be in maine until July 7th and will continue my pizza quest once I return to NYC. I'm planning on going here: http://www.flatbreadcompany.com/2007Home.htm

Meeting with Scott from NY Pizza tour

2009-06-23T14:38:00.000-07:00

I met with Scott Wiener this afternoon. Scott is the founder and tour guide of Scott's Pizza Tours of NYC. After a few days of playing phone tag, we were finally able to meet up and discuss our mutual enthusiasm for pizza. We met at John's pizzeria on Bleecker street and split a delicious sausage pie (Scott's recommendation). We talked for over an hour about different pizza styles, pizza's origins, its cultural relevance, and of course, our personal history and connection to pizza. Scott possesses an encyclopedic knowledge of not only how pizza evolved (and still is evolving) but is also able to accurately and clearly define the many different styles of pizza (neapolitan, chicago-style, roman etc). He knew, for example, that mozzarella comes from the italian word mozzare, which means 'to cut' while also being able to tell me exactly which type of canned tomato we were eating at John's.

What a pleasure it was to finally meet and talk with someone who loves pizza as much as I do. Scott, while very passionate, is not overbearing in his expertise. This was a nice contrast to the pizzaioli I worked under in Naples. I'm very excited to explore and learn about pizza with Scott. For those of you who want to really learn about NYC pizza you need to go on his tour:

http://www.scottspizzatours.com/

2009-06-22T13:57:00.000-07:00

I'd like to thank everyone who responded to my note on facebook about where to find great pizza in NYC. The feedback has been overwhelmingly wonderful. I have a lot of eating and writing to do. Secondly, I'd like to encourage everyone out there in the Salted Espresso world to keep the comments and recommendations coming. You can post them in the comment section here. It may take me a bit of time, but I'm going to eat every slice of pizza in New York City. Please help me find them all.

In a little bit, I'm going to post a review on Famous Joe's pizza. I've been told that Joe's is major stop for any serious slice lover. It was because of this that I was bit hesitant to review Joe's this early in my NYC pizza escapades. A lot of what I studied and learned about pizza in Naples doesn't altogether apply to NYC city slices. A lot of the neapolitan pizzaioli (pizza masters) that I encountered and studied under would be quick to scoff at the yellow cheese, the electric oven, and pepper flakes that one finds so in most New York pizzerias. I know that many of them wouldn't call it real pizza. But I think this attitude is only detrimental towards my ability to review pizza, fairly. And besides, there are over 8 million New Yorkers out there who I think would strongly disagree with the old masters. Why can't you have your neapolitan pie and eat your New York slice, too?

That being said, expect my first slice review to be up soon.

Famous Joe's Pizza: Fresher does not always mean better

2009-06-22T12:00:00.000-07:00

Next to Ray's, Famous Joe's is probably the most obvious spot to start my New York Slice education. It holds a cult status among New Yorkers in the west village as being the "real deal" without being ostentatious in the process. Unlike some other famous pizzerias (which will go nameless in this post), Joe's hasn't become a caricature of itself. Joe's occupies a small outlet on Carmine street just off of Bleecker. It's so unassuming that I almost missed it from the street. Inside, the walls are unadorned and there are no big tables. You've got to eat your slice standing up or sitting on a high stool.

When I asked for a slice of cheese pizza, the cashier asked me if I wanted a slice with mozzarella or a just a "cheese" slice. This confused me a bit. Isn't mozzarella the standard cheese for pizza? When I asked about the difference, he seemed a bit flustered and never really answered my question. He just kept saying the word "fresher" to describe the more expensive slice. My guess: the "fresher" slice, with big, white globs melted all over the top, used a higher quality mozzarella while the other slice-cooked with a shredded, yellower cheese- used a less expensive, more processed mozzarella.

The slice on the left is the one with "fresher" mozzarella

So what did I order? One of each, of course. When in doubt, always order both. As I carried my lunch across the street I wondered which one would be better. The slice with white globs was more aesthetically pleasing, more comparable to the type of pizza I've been trained to make. The neapolitan snob in me had already picked a favorite. But I was surprisingly disappointed. The cheese on the "mozzarella" pie, as I guessed, was fresher and of higher quality. But fresh mozzarella is only as good as its other ingredients, and in this case, it drew attention to the blandness of the tomato sauce . The sauce had no tang or salty tweak to it. It was flatly sweet from beginning to end. The mozzarella did taste better, but only at the overall expense of the pizza. I then realized why there were countless containers of garlic powder scattered across the countertops.

If the pie with real mozzarella was boring, how would the "other" mozzarella pizza hold up? Surprisingly well! The yellow, processed cheese has a secret weapon that the fresh mozzarella can't account for: more grease. This slice was greasy- greasy enough that afterwards my paper plate could have been used as a pane for a circular window. Fortunately, grease does more than just give you heart attacks; it tastes delicious while doing so. The grease drew attention away from the mediocre sauce, which is a good thing, I guess.

It feels counterintuitive to say but in the case of Famous Joe's, the fancy, more expensive slice with "better" cheese isn't always the better choice at all.

NY pizza versus Neapolitan pizza

2009-06-19T11:31:00.000-07:00

What's the difference? I would like some feedback on this one. After living in Naples for 5 months, my standards for judging a pizza are probably very different from most New Yorkers.

Yesterday, I ate at Lombardi's, New York's oldest pizzeria. My mind immediately started to criticize certain parts of it (a review is soon to follow) when I realized that I have no real basis for judging New York pies. What makes a good NY pie? a bad one?

The big difference I noticed yesterday was the density of the crust. It tasted much heavier to me. After just two slices, I felt like I had swallowed a loaf of bread. Don't get me wrong. The crust was chewy, pliable, and salty enough to eat by itself. In a word, it was delicious. But in Naples, I would have been able to eat three times as many slices without so much as a blip on my digestive radar.

What's the deal?

If you had to describe your perfect NY slice, what would you say? Is it by the slice, by the pie? thicker crust? thinner?

Lombardi's

2009-06-18T13:03:00.000-07:00

Ah, my first pizza review in the big apple. What would have otherwise been a depressing, rainy day turned into the beginning of a wonderfully edible adventure. It's only appropriate that I start my New York pizza search at the Pizzeria that claims to have started it all, Lombardi's.

Located in little Italy, Lombardi's was started by Gennaro Lombardi, a neapolitan immigrant, in 1905. This pizzeria has a long and extensive history, most of which can be found in framed pictures on the wall. I don't want to go too deeply into its past because I'd rather talk about the pizza, but one interesting fact about Lombardi's that made me smile is this: For almost 80 years Lombardi's stayed in the same building, until, according to our waiter, the vibration from the 6 train broke its coal burning oven. The owners refused to use an electric oven in its place and shut their doors until they found another location with a real, coal burning oven.

What we ate: A half and half combination of

the classic margherita and Lombardi's own "Gennaro" white pie.

Let's start with margherita. With fresh mozzarella, San Marzano tomato sauce, and basil, these ingredients were neapolitan through and through. Since returning to the states, I'm often hesitant to try this simple type of pie in the fear that, well, I'll actually taste the quality of the ingredients. Ever wonder why most american pies are flavor chameleons, constantly changing their toppings? Last time I checked BBQ chicken and pineapple were the "it" toppings, though, they might now be outdated. It's not simply because it's "gourmet" or "original", though that's definitely part of it. It's often because the overall quality of ingredients is so bad that if you were to sample a margherita type pie with only three ingredients from say, Domino's, you'd quickly realize how processed, bland, and unimpressive the ingredients actually are. So they pile high the "gourmet" ingredients in the hopes of hoodwinking our taste buds and tricking us into believing that we're eating "flavorful" pizza. But I digest.

The margharita pie at Lombardi's actually was flavorful. The mozzarella melted into pretty white puddles - looking more like flower peddles than cheese - and was used sparingly enough, allowing the tomato sauce to shine through at points; creating a nice white and red contrast. The cheese was creamy while still remaining cohesive. The tomato sauce added a pleasant tang towards the end of each bite though I'd prefer to trade in some of that tangy for salty. The basil, which was visibly present on each slice, left my taste buds searching for its strong, spicy aftertaste. I never found it.

I wasn't as excited about the white pie. This pie had mozzarella, ricotta, and romano cheese, with garlic infused olive oil and a few strips of scissor cut basil. But it was hard to taste anything besides the ricotta. Usually, I have a beef to pick with ricotta on pizza. Instead of acting as a mild medium to balance stronger flavors, it overwhelms the palate with its

creaminess. This pie was no exception. The romano and mozzarella fell by the wayside And the basil? What happened to the basil?

If the ingredients on the margherita and white tasted neapolitan, the crust that supported them tasted like it was from New York. It was golden- brown, salty, pliable. Yet it was tough enough, I imagine, to be thrown like a frisbee. When we were finished, I slide my leftover slice into my message bag like I would a paperback novel.

But the crust's strength was also its weakness. It felt too dense, too heavy. I stopped after two slices, under protest from my stomach.

Go to Lombardi's. Order the Margherita. Watch them cook your pie in a 1000 degree coal-burning

oven. Enjoy the fresh mozzarella, rich tomato sauce, friendly environment, and smile when you

can do it all for under twenty bucks.

The Salted Espresso is back

2009-06-14T12:09:00.000-07:00

Hello all,

After a five month hiatus, the Salted Espresso is back. I returned from my Neapolitan pizza excursion in January, spent a few months pizza consulting for a pizzeria in tucson (supposedly, there actually is a market for pizza consultants), and now have moved to New York City, the world's second biggest pizza capital.

I'm very excited to be here and try all the pizza New York has to offer. If neapolitan pizza boasts tradition, new york pies boast innovation. I already heard about a cajun black chicken pizza and, believe it or not, a watermelon pizza. I can't wait to try them all.

If the New Yorkers out there have any suggestions on pizzerias to review (and I know you must have suggestions), please leave me a comment. I will happily try any slice of pie.

Places I'm planning on visiting/reviewing:

De Fara's

Grimaldi's under the Brooklyn bridge

Una Pizza Neapolitana

Lombardi's

Please note that I am not looking solely for neapolitan style pizza. That would be a waste. I want those New York slices!

The sugar mounds of Italy (Palermo)

2009-01-05T14:46:00.000-08:00

The sugar mounds of Italy (Catania)

2009-01-05T14:09:00.000-08:00

Pizzeria Sorbillo (by Margaret)

2008-12-24T10:27:00.000-08:00

One of the first pizzas that I ate in Napoli was the pizza Mari. After tasting it I giggled to myself thinking, "oooh boy! Love at first bite!" My dorkish sentimentality was genuine. To me this is an indication of true love.

Mari is a white pizza. The ingredients are gorgonzola cheese, red or white onions, thinly sliced salame, fior di latte cheese, and burn spots.

I have noticed that the salted espresso lacks any real discussion on the value of burn spots. In telling you about my favorite pizza in the world I must also explain why burn is important. Sorbillo's pizza Mari is an excellent example of how to correctly utilize char.

The Mari is rich, too rich. Two cheeses, meat, and onions. By the time you've eaten half the pizza you fear that it will soon become too much. However, the char saves the day. Burn flavor cuts the richness of the cheeses and the meat. The pizza toes the line of too much flavor, too much creamy oily cheesiness, but char seizes the fragile flavor balance before it goes to far, suspending it just at the line. The char saves it, dangling it at the edge of perfection and too much.

As you work your way through this pizza you are in crisis. Can I finish this pie? Surprisingly, your stomach remains settled after each piece. The char eliminates the overpowering flavor that cheese and oil leave in the mouth in such a way sos to prevent you from ever feeling sick of it. It allows for the ingredients to show off their most delicious aspects while cutting down on the undesirable traits. The contrast between the sharp gorgonzola, the mellow gooey fior di latte, the salame so thin it becomes crunchy in the oven, and the sweet onions all dance around the mouth deliciously, but momentarily. The char keeps it all together, not letting one flavor overpower the others. The char maintains balance in a pizza dangerously close to the edge.

With each slice the crisis renews, but is always defeated by the char. As you finish the pie you do not feel too full or gross as you might with other rich foods. You feel good. The burn spots have been working in a third, invisible way. The following from wikipedia.org should explain what I mean.

"The porosity of charcoal accounts for its ability to readily absorb gases and liquids; charcoal is often used to filter water and absorb odors. Its pharmacological action depends on the same property; it absorbs the gases of the stomach and intestines, and also liquids and solids (hence its use in the treatments of certain poisonings)."

When I say 'char' of course I mean charcoal. The pizza Mari will not upset your stomach. Despite its rich toppings, the burn spots keep your belly settled, not only stopping the less than desireable flavor aspects from going too far in your mouth -the char sops up the extras in your belly so you don't get sick. Sweet.

These burn spots are the unsung heroes of Neopolitan pizza.

Trattoria Pizzeria Cilea

2008-12-05T05:48:00.000-08:00

Most of the pizzerias I review on this blog are already fairly well-known, at least in Naples. It's for that reason that I'm particularly pleased to review Trattoria Pizzeria Cilea, a small, 8-table pizzeria located in Vomero. We happened upon Cilea the first day I went searching for my pizza school. It was late in the afternoon, the place was empty, and I had eaten only two hours before. But I decided to give it a shot. I knew after the first few bites of my margherita that I was eating something special. For the rest of the afternoon, I couldn't stop talking about how surprisingly distinct the tomato sauce was. Now I've been going there for over two months and I'm convinced that Cilea has the best red sauce in Naples.

Margherita at Cilea

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start with the dough. A few days ago, Margaret and I tried to compare the excellent dough at Cilea with the equally excellent dough at Pizzeria Sorbillo (a review is soon to follow). In my mind, these are two top notch pizzerias that occupy the opposite ends of the dough spectrum. Here is a list of adjectives we came up with to describe the two doughs:

Cilea: dense, moist, bold, chewy, airy, succinct, whimsical, doughy.

Sorbillo: crisp, resilient, pliable, resourceful, doughy.

(New York Times here I come!)

As for the cheese: The fior di latte was remarkably creamy without causing the same soupy effect that mozzarella di bufala causes (I've got to say "soupy" at least once in each review).

The sauce: What can I really say except that I'll have another thing to weep over once I leave Italy. It was distinctly salty without going overboard. I've noticed, even in Naples, that tomato sauce is often used as a filler. But this stuff took command of the pizza and everything else was a delightful aftertaste.

Pizza bianca at Cilea

At first, I was afraid the pizza bianca would pale in comparison to its red brethren. But I was quickly proven wrong. The arugula was fresh. The parmigiana was strong, and the red sauce was replaced with extra virgin olive oil and seasalt. If you want the best white pizza in the world, go to Pizzeria Bianco in Phoenix, AZ. If Bianco's is closed, hop on a plane towards Naples, go to Vomero, and try the pie at Cilea.

End Note: Cilea also takes the award for having the most bang for its euro. At 2.60 euros for a margherita to-go, you might as well order four.

Pizzeria Vesi

2008-11-06T02:56:00.000-08:00

Margaret and I have dubbed Via Tribunali, a crooked crowded street in centro historico district of Naples, "Pizza Alley". Between the speeding vespas, ancient churches, and begging gypsies, there is some fantastic pizza. There's Di Matteo- a staple among Neapolitans, there's Il Presidente - the spot Bill Clinton went while visiting Naples, and there's, of course, Sorbillo- the favorite pizzeria of italian actress Sophia Loren. Just down the street from these giants in the pizza world is Vesi, a lesser known but equally deserving pizzeria. After living here for two months, Vesi has easily become one of my most frequented pizzerias in all of Naples. The pizza here can hold its own against Sorbillo and Il Presidente, and if you pick the right pie, even surpass them.

The D.O.C. at Vesi

Try the D.O.C. Fresh mozzarella di buffala and pomodorini (small, sweet tomatoes) from the base of Mount. Vesuvius itself. Throw on a little extra virgin olive oil and that's it. This pie speaks directly to the neapolitan pizza philosophy that excellence is achieved through simplicity. If you are going to use ingredients of the highest quality, you don't need more than a few of them. In fact, I'd say that any additional topping might ruin the very delicate, almost perfect balance between the pomodorini and mozzarella. The first time I ordered this pie, I could smell the cooked pomodorini before the waiter had put it on the table. The juices of the pomodorini become infused with the cream of the mozzarella. You find yourself mopping on the oil and cheese directly from the plate. I've already made a few posts about soupy neapolitan pizzas and how, generally, I like a drier pie. But the D.O.C at Vesi is one of the few exceptions.

A "ripieno" styled pie at Vesi

Vesi has a wonderful outdoor patio on Via Tribunali. If you can ignore the honking of the passing cars (something you've got to do pretty much everywhere in Naples), you'll enjoy a wonder pie in a great location. The staff is friendly and very dedicated to making quality pizza.

Fake it til you make it

2008-10-20T07:15:00.001-07:00

My italian is not very good. In fact, I'd say that most of the time I barely squeak out more than two or three sentences in a row. But after three weeks in a pizzeria and another one at a language school, my comprehension has finally started to increase. As a result, I can understand more while remaining pretty frustrated with my ability to speak back. That all changed last friday when a Brazilian TV crew came to Pizzeria La Notizie and filmed a special program about Neapolitan pizza.

Enzo, the master pizzaiolo, had been in a bad mood all morning long. He was waiting for a call to tell him exactly when the TV crew was supposed to show up. He nervously peeled the stems from the fiori di zucca (zucchini flours) while barking off orders to me and Sam, the other canadian student. When they did arrive, Enzo's anxiety was lifted but in its place came a new problem. "Do you speak english?" asked the cameraman as he shook Enzo's hand, "we don't speak italian." A light must have gone off in Enzo's head because he immediately turned to me and said in italian, "I don't speak an english. But he does. He's from the US and speaks very good italian." This came as a shock to me. Not because Enzo was lying about my italian. He knew as well I did that my level of communication is on par with a 3 year old. But rather,this came as a shock because he was entrusting me as the information guru, the almighty translator.

My first few translations were easy enough. It was mostly stuff I'd heard Enzo say two or three times before.

"I run a pizza school here in the morning. That's why the pizzeria is closed for lunch. Every night we open up for the general public."

When Enzo was finished he turned to me and aggressively nodded (which is something I've noticed only italians can do without making it look like a neck spasm). I went ahead and translated into english. A few Brazilian heads bobbed up and down in understanding. That was easy enough, I thought. Enzo continued.

"School goes for 4 hours every day and the students help out in the afternoon, preparing the food for the evening. I've taught students from all over the world"

Again I translated, this time even using a few of Enzo's hand gestures to illuminate his point. Again, more nodding. This translation thing is a piece of cake, I thought.

"Italian italian italian italian italian italian italian italian italian il mare italian italian italian italian. "

Enzo finished and turned towards me. The Brazilians turned towards me. It's true that comprehension follows comprehension. But what follows incomprehension?

"Il mare?" I asked tentatively. Enzo stared at me.

"Si, il mare."

Il mare meant the sea. This much I knew. My problem was all the other italian words that came before and after. Why would Enzo be mentioning the sea? A half a dozen possibilities raced through my mind. None of which were very good. Crap. Better just say something.

I turned towards the cameraman and said "The sea is just up the road. You might want to go get a shot of it for the program. It's a beautiful view. And afterwards you can start filming."

The cameraman looked at me. I somehow managed to smile back. "Okay," the cameraman said, "we'll go have a look". I turned to Enzo and said, in very broken italian, "They are going to film outside first and come film in here afterwards." Enzo stared at me, the kind of stare that said if I could call you out on your shit I would but lucky for you I can't. After that things went relatively smoothly. As it turns out, Portuguese and Italian are quite similar, similar enough that an english translator is not really needed. I mostly stayed behind the counter and watched the filming, only occasionally answering specific questions. Like they say, fake it til you make it.

Here's a video of Enzo making the dough "traditionally" in a big wooden box. What makes it traditional? My guess: the box was very, very old.

For your reading enjoyment

2008-10-14T06:08:00.000-07:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/14/arts/design/14abro.html?pagewanted=1

That's my city!

2008-10-14T05:25:00.000-07:00

I apologize in advance for the lack of posts. Margaret and I recently moved into a new apartment, a cave really, and we just discovered that our cave will not be able to get internet. So I'm sitting in the only wireless cafe in Naples in order to write this. A brief summary of the last few weeks: I've finished my course with Enzo "Mad dawg" Coccia and have been attending language classes in the city center. Tomorrow, however, old Mad dawg himself has invited me back to work on my pizza making skills again. I'll be at Pizzeria La Notizie for the rest of the week and will actually start working at a pizzeria in another two weeks.

Stay tuned for: a review on the pizza that wasn't called a pizza diavola but still was the best pizza diavola I've ever had, a short history on the origins of Italian Sticky Finger Syndrome (also called I.S.F.S.), and photos of street garbage!

For now, enjoy these videos:

The flame at Pizzeria La Notizie

In this video, Enzo explains how if you are not careful, a Neapolitan oven can eat your arm.

One Pizzaiolo, two cups: Spatula practice with Enzo Coccia

2008-09-24T07:04:00.000-07:00

So my pizzas still aren't round. How do I know this? Because Enzo, the master-pizzaiolo at La Notizia, screams "non va bene!" in my ear every time I make an egg shaped dough. "Making the dough is not like massaging a woman, Gustavo" he says standing behind me. "You need more force. Piu forte! PIU FORTE!" How do my fingertips, the only part of my hands that should be applying pressure, gain more strength? Finger push-ups against the wall, of course.

Besides finger push-ups we started another exercise today; working with the pizza spatula. Twenty minutes after working on proper foot stance, arm placement, and wrist flicking, Enzo brings us two plastic cups filled to the brim with water. Thinking that he has rewarded us for our hard work, I say "grazie". He gives me a look that says we are far from be finished. Check out this video to see our new exercise:

We worked in rotations of tens. Each of us had to slide the pizza in between the cups at a perfect angle. If a drop was spilled, we'd have to start over. Tomorrow, Enzo says we get to stick the spatula in the actual oven.

Working at Pizzeria la Notizia

2008-09-20T01:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was scalded pretty bad for cutting my sausage too thick. In italian. In the small back kitchen of Pizzeria La Notizia. I can't say I wasn't excepting something like this to happen. But when I saw Enrico, my short squat boss, look at my pile of half-cooked sausage links, I knew I was in for it. He came in screaming, making gestures that I've only read about in books. This went on for a few minutes while I stood there dumbfounded- being both slightly frustrated and slightly relieved that my lack of italian prevented me from explaining myself. At one point two waiters came in to see what the commotion was about. They saw Enrico waving his open palms towards the sky and quickly left the way they had entered. Ten minutes later he was patting me on the back and apologizing. Five minutes after that, we enjoyed our break by splitting a coke. "I'll do better tomorrow," I told him in italian. He flashed me a grin and responded, "no, tomorrow you just won't do the sausages."

It's strange being an immigrant dishwasher (I'm working at La Notizia through a course program in Naples). My seven weeks at Middlebury's intensive language program hasn't done me much good when it comes to communicating in the kitchen- a place where its less important to know the conditional and more important to know the word for ladle, dustpan, and lettuce. By the time its taken me to formulate a grammatically correct response they either a) have told someone else to do it or b) have grabbed me by the arm and attempted to show me my task through a rough pantomime. Either way, my responses of si or capito are rarely trusted. In fact, I'd say that over the last week of working under Enrico, I've learned less italian from him than I have italian gestures; the finger point below the eye, the palms pointed towards the sky, and my favorite, the italian wink. The italian wink should not be confused with the american wink- with is usually expressed as a sign of congenial complicity. No, the italian wink is used far more liberally and is generally directed towards speechless american dishwashers who are actually paying to dry pots and chop half-cooked sausages. On second thought, maybe the italian wink has the same meaning as the american one.

Pizzafest 2008

2008-09-10T08:26:00.000-07:00

Okay. This was it. Every year Naples puts on the world's biggest pizza celebration. For ten days straight, over two dozen pizzerias from all over the planet compete for bragging rights when it comes to true Neapolitan pizza. Before lthe night began, I had a vague concept of what "true" meant when it came to Neapolitans and their pizza. But now I've been set straight. Neapolitans are purists when it comes to culinary tradition and Pizzafest-which felt as much like a laboratory experiment as it did a food festival- might best exemplify their idiosyncratic, almost stringent nature . "Fair is fair," seemed to be the underlining motto of the night. The creators of Pizzafest set out to create a controlled environment where each pizzeria had to work against the norm to come up with something special. Each pizzaiolo was given the same space and same tools and told to make the same pizza (only margherita and marinara). The theory here being, that the only thing differeniating one pie from another is the talent and hardship gone into the creative process. To help level the playing field, each pizzeria, I counted 25 in total, had to use a special wood burning oven that was no different than their fellow competitors . That's right, someone paid for 25 wood burning pizza ovens to be brought into the Mostra d'Oltremare fairgrounds. I don't want to give the impression that all these pizzas were the same. They weren't. But for Neapolitans, true greatness in the pizza arena is found in the most

minute differences. For them, the scrutiny in dissecting every aspect of a pie is almost as fun as the actual eating.

Margaret and I showed up around 7:30, a half an hour after the fest was

supposed to begin. We found ourselves waiting in a long line full of angry, pacing italians. Twenty minutes later that pacing had turned into shouting and banging on the ticket booth window. If I've learned one thing so far it is this: don't keep italians from their pizza. Despite the excruciatingly long wait (I had been purposely starving myself all day), we eventually were able to buy tickets. I was pleasantly surprised to find that for ten euros, you get a ticket for a pizza, coffee, beer, and desert limoncello.

Last year's Champion

In a fairgrounds dedicated to the art of pizza filled with 25 of the best pizzerias around, where do you start? Last year's winner, of course, Makoto Onishi from Salvatore Cuomo's Japanese pizzeria. By the time we had arrived at Cuomo's tent, a military band was already there to greet last year's champion. Margaret and I both split one margherita and one marinara. What can I say other than it was delicious pizza? I preferred the margherita over the marinara but I think that will almost always be the case. The dough was especially thin, even by neapolitan standards but held everything together remarkably well. It was pliable, chewy, and the bottom was crunchy. The charred spots on the dough were more than just a sign of a good oven . Each spot was really baked into the dough, adding a completely new taste that helped the pizza as a whole. Each ingredient was fresh and distinctive, but nothing dominated the overall flavor. Everything worked together symbiotically sort of like Live Aid or a phish concert. Okay, maybe not a phish concert.

Pizza from Salvatore Cuomo

I wanted to show how pliable the crust was,

but instead, it just looks like I'm holding up a slice of pizza...

Our next stop was at the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana (VPN) tent. Margaret and I debated our margherita. She claimed that the overall flavor was better than the Cuomo pizza while I said that there was too much oil and mozzarella. After a slow digestive walk around the fair, we tackled our fourth and final pizza at L'antico Molo. We were both pretty stuffed and decided to go with a marinara. I can't say that I'm able to give this pie a fair description. I was too full. But I will say that there was a nice spicy kick to the tomato sauce.

For your viewing pleasure...

Pizza tossing with the VPN guys

Me (dumb tourist) and them (pizzaioli)

Ristorante "Ciro a Mergellina"

2008-09-06T13:56:00.000-07:00

Located across from the bay, Ristorante Ciro a Mergellina is stuck between a row of fish vendors and parked vespas. After first glancing at the menu posted, I thought this might be another done-up tourist trap (The menu was, after all, written in english as well as Italian, good english). But after seeing the fast moving, white-jacketed waiters, I began to see a certain old worldly, almost anachronistic charm to Ciro's that I haven't seen in Naples, yet. Finally a place where people could see me for what I truly am; a top-hat wearing, ivory cane twirling gentleman. I lacked the hat and cane, but it was no matter. They gave us a table anyways. In actuality, the only reason we ended up at Ciro's was because we were completely lost (looking for neapolitan tombs or something). I saw the pizza di Ciro through the big glass window and decided to give it a shot.

What I ate: a Margherita

What Margaret ate: nothing. She sat there, drinking a coffee and complaining about stomach problems

The Crust:

A very thin, incredibly chewy crust that reminded me of flat bread in some strange way. There was also something pleasantly sweet to the dough. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what the flavor was, and I doubt very much there was any sugar added. That is, after all, a big no-no in Naples. But still, I enjoyed having to work through each bite. Whatever made the crust so chewy also made it very flimsy. This pie was an unabashedly soupy pizza. If you still don't know what I mean by soupy have a look at this photo:

A fork and knife kind of pizza. Scratch that. A spoon and straw kind of pizza.

I was both excited and little bit terrified to cut into this pizza. I watched my knife go through first, a level of oil on top, then a creamy thickness of buffalo mozzarella and tomato sauce, and finally another layer of oil that "separated" the sauce from the crust. In reality, I couldn't tell where the toppings stopped and the dough began. This pizza was a swamp of flavor.

In fact, I'll go so far as to say this was the definition of a soupy pizza. Sitting next to the Mediterranean sea, staring at the large aquarium filled with fish that would surely soon be someone's meal, I got the impression that "soupy" might have been exactly what they were going for. Maybe "oceanic" is a better word. Naples is known to have world class sea food and perhaps this pizza is a tribute to the sea without making you eat anything from it. Wait, so its possible that someone actually tried to make a soupy pizza? It's not just the result of using fresh tomatoes and creamy cheese? Maybe. This realization came as a little bit of a shock to me, considering my own philosophy on crust, which states that cardboard thin pizza is good, but only as good as the toppings it can literally, support.

So did the pie at Ciro a Mergellina win me over to the soupy side? Not really. Most days, I'm still going to prefer a slice with structural integrity over one lacking a backbone. But that's just me. If you want to try a good soupy pizza, and I mean a really good soupy pizza (and I think you do), go down to the metro, hop on the blue line, and get off at the stop labeled " The marshlands of pizza: Ciro a Mergellina". If you can't find that stop, and the woman at the information desk stares at you, just get off at the "Mergellina" stop instead.

The toppings:

I've briefly mentioned the mozzarella already. But its worth saying again; an abundant amount of an overly creamy cheese. Some of richest I've had so far. At the risk of offending cheese lovers, I might even say there was a little bit too much. No, wait, that's impossible. The most renegade and, perhaps, my favorite part of this margherita pizza was its inclusion of parmesan. Neapolitans are very strict about what constitutes a margherita pizza (mozzarella, tomato sauce, and basil. that's it). Parmesan definitely can't be thrown on as an afterthought. In fact, since my arrival two weeks ago, I've almost entirely forgotten about parmesan (the mozzarella has been that good). But this pie brought it back to me in a very refreshing way. The sharp, aged flavor of the parmesan helped balance the richness of the mozzarella and also complimented the chewy sweetness of the dough. Throw in the tanginess of the tomato sauce and bam! you've got yourself a very complex, very tasty pie.

Afterthoughts:

I would recommend grabbing a pie at Ciro's to anyone, just so long as they know what they are getting. This is a very creamy, very rich pizza. Just make sure that your stomach can handle it because I promise your taste buds won't be disappointed.

Antica Pizzeria Port'Alba

2008-09-03T11:49:00.000-07:00

Antica Pizzeria Port'alba:

Antica Port'alba claims to be Naples' (and the world's) oldest pizzeria. Opening its doors in 1830, this unassuming restaurant can be off of Piazza Dante. Stuck between a number of used book stores, you don't see it the first time you walk by. We didn't at least. In fact, I was hesitant that I had even found the right place. Sitting outside was the restaurant's pizzaiolo, a somber sad eyed man who motioned for us to sit down in a shaded patio area.

What I ate: Pizza diavola (a "deviled" pizza)

What Margaret ate: Pizza margherita

The Crust:

This was arguable the best part of both pizzas. Even as I watched our waiter carry our pizzas across the alleyway, I could see a golden brown crust that almost glowed in contrast to the white buffalo mozzarella. Before I even took a bite, I knew I was in for something exceptional. How did I know this? Well, for one, I could hold the slice in my hand. After being in Naples for about a week, and eating at least one pizza a day, I've already had my fair share of what food critic Ed Levine calls "soupy" neapolitan pizzas. These are hot, freshly cooked pizzas that don't have the structural integrity that most American pizza eaters take for granted. In many neapolitan pizzerias, often the amazingly creamy buffalo mozzarella and the locally grown tomatoes, once cooked, liquify into a deliciously white and red puddle that forms at the center of the pizza. This puddle, while delicious, is also difficult to eat. Most crusts are too thin to support the center of the pie, and as a result, become soggy and hard to pick up. The pie loses its crust, it's texture. It's something special.

This, however, was not the case at Antica Pizzeria Port'Abla. The crust here was slightly thicker than its other neapolitan brethren and singed to a lightly golden color. It was a comfort to eat a pizza with my hands again. But at the same time, I didn't find many dark, charred spots on the edges and bottom of the crust (a neapolitan signature and also one of my favorite parts of a good pizza).

The Cheese (Mozzarella di buffala):

Both the margherita and the diavola were topped with mozzarella di buffala. This cheese was creamy, fresh, and by american standards, exceptionally good. But in the city that claims to have invented pizza, nothing made this mozzarella memorable. Since I've arrived, I have tried better mozzarella (on worse pizza) in other pizzerias around Naples. I will say, however, that the cheese seemed to work better on the margherita than it did on the diavola. To be honest, I think this is probably more of a reflection on the salumi on my pizza than it is on the mozzarella itself.

The Sauce:

The sauce on both our pizzas seemed to fit into the same camp as the mozzarella. In America, I would probably be quick to rave about it as being above par. But graded on a neapolitan scale, this sauce was good enough not be noticed, really. Not too sweet. Not too tangy. It seemed to hover in that spot where mediocrity and blandness meet (did I really just use mediocrity to describe a pizza sauce?).

The toppings:

Perhaps the most disappointing element of the pizza at Antica Port' Alba was the basil. For me, adding basil to a pie is as much a symbol as it is a culinary choice. A freshly cut leaf of basil represents the freshness of a pie's ingredients and the labor of love that has gone into bringing those ingredients together. All that amazing flavor and aroma packed into one small leaf. Biting into that leaf should be a punch to your taste buds (Sometimes when I'm feeling really sinister, I'll plan how I'm going to eat my pie according to the placement of the basil and rearrange the leafs to better suit each bite). But at Antica Port' Alba the basil was dry, flavorless, and burnt. This was particularly frustrating considering the fact that good basil could have really helped draw out the flavor of the mozzarella and sauce. Why was the pizzaiolo so sad looking when we approached? Perhaps he was lamenting his herb selection.

As for the salumi on the pizza diavola, each slice was cut into awkwardly shaped squares that drew attention away from its flavor, which was actually pretty good. Keep 'em thin and flat, I say.

One more thing I'd like to mention about the actual pizza at Antica Port'Alba: one of my biggest pet peeves about eating a pizza diavola is the fact that often there is nothing spicy or "deviled" about the pizza. My pizza here was no exception to this. Sure, I occasionally found small pepper flecks. But what's the fun if I have to look for them? A good pizza diavola is very much like a good strip show (sorry mom, but the metaphor sort of works. I mean, I imagine it works, seeing that I've never been to a strip show myself but have only heard about them): the excitement is in what isn't seen, or, in our case, tasted. The pepper flecks and spicy salumi have to stimulate (what other verb could I use?) your taste buds to the breaking point of being too spicy, to a point where the flavor becomes distracting and starts to eclipse the other flavors of the pizza. But a good pizza diavola (maybe I should say a great pizza diavola) takes you to that breaking point without crossing over. In short, its an amazing tease. The diavola at Antica Port'Alba went the opposite direction into a complete absence of spice. There was nothing alluring or tantalizing about the taste. It was like trying to watch a strip show where the dancer wears a full-body jump suit and refuses to show you any skin.

The equivalent of a terrible pizza diavola

The Atmosphere:

Located in a nice shaded side street full of american tourists and students (like the one writing this review). A margherita pizza will run you about five euros, which seems reasonable, but there is a coperto, or cover charge, for a few euros more. Also, our waiter, a very nice elderly italian man, knew how to squeeze money out of every situation. After we had paid and he came back with our change, he looked me in the eyes and said "For me?".

Afterthoughts:

After reading this review to Margaret for feedback she candidly told me that I was giving Antica Pizzeria Port'Alba, one of the world's oldest and most famous pizzerias, a terrible review. I tried to protest. But upon remembering that Margaret is about twice as smart as me, I realized that she is probably right. Bashing Port'Alba was never the point of this review. In fact, I really enjoyed eating there and will surely go back at a later date (I just won't probably get the diavola again). In general, I do spend a little too much time fixated on the negative aspects of a pizza. The reason being; if something is good it is good and there usually isn't much more you can say beyond that. But if something is bad it can usually be better. So why not try to fix it?

Finally, I am here

2008-08-29T09:28:00.000-07:00

Ciao tutti,

One kosher meal, two security checkpoints, and fourteen hours of travel later, we have arrived in Naples. Margaret and I stumble through the customs line and watch as the agent carelessly waves through everyone with a red passport. Then he gets to us. We wait awkwardly as he enters our information into a computer. A minute later he ushers us through. Just like that, we are allowed to enter Italy.

It takes us ten minutes to figure out how to use the pay phone. The whole time we are trying desperately not to look desperate. Finally we get ahold of Federico, the only person we "know" in Naples. Through Craig's list, we will be renting two rooms from him for one month. On the phone, he seems nice. Standing outside waiting for the taxi, I wonder how many serial killers in the history of serial killers have seemed nice. I wonder how fast I can run with my luggage. I wonder if Margaret still remembers the judo she learned in elementary school.

In the cab, the driver motions for us to roll down our windows. A photo of Pope John Paul II hangs from his rear-view window, and I see him flash me a smile. He says, very slowly, " Perche siete a Napoli?". Margaret and I both attempt to answer; its the first time either of us have had to use Italian since our arrival. After two or three tries I finally say, "Studero alla scuola di pizza." Taking his hands from the steering wheel, he gestures to me, "bravissimo!" he says. I smile back at him, my mind still on the mysterious Federico. Who trusts Craig's list anyways?

So now I am here on the fourth floor of a very historic apartment (okay, it seems very historic to me). We have two high-ceilinged, red tiled bedrooms that each have balconies that overlook the city. Last night around four in the morning, Margaret dragged me from my bed to watch an impromptu fireworks party on the roof of a building catty-corner us. Federico, who turned out not to be a serial killer and is instead a twenty something year old italian sculptor, gives us our first lesson on neapolitan culture. "Some member of the Camorra got out of jail, most likely. Some parents are probably celebrating the release of their son. It happens most nights." he says nonchalantly.

So far, not too much trash. There are small piles and heaps up and down the street; a mattress or two here. A toilet seat there. Nothing too worrisome. Compared to what I have been reading about for months, Naples appears to be little more than your typical, dirty city. In case you didn't know, Naples has been the center of European news lately due to a huge trash crisis or "la emergenza dei rifiuti". For more info, check out this.

As of now, I'm less worried about who's going to pick up my trash and more worried about the crime. Federico warns us about going out at night (and during the day). "It is Naples, afterall" he says. "Some students who rented the apartment before you had troubles" he tells us, but doesn't go into what those "troubles" actually were. If we are to go out with more than twenty euro on us, he says, we should stick it in our shoes. Listening to him talk about the crime, I can't help but notice a smile appear on Federico's face. It's not so much that he is proud of the purse snatching and the pit-pocketing, but it's as if he understands that Naples' worst attributes are intricately tied with its best attributes.

Enough of the city. Onto the food. Last night Margaret and I made salami and buffalo mozzarella sandwiches, our first official italian meals. The mozzarella, which the man at the cheese store poured directly from what looked like a huge vase, came to us in a sack filled with water. The cheese wasn't creamy. It was really just milk, slightly tart milk, in sold form. Spread out over freshly made dough and cooked for sixty seconds in a 900 degree oven, this cheese will literally melt in your mouth. Last night we ate it raw. But that didn't stop us from having seconds and thirds.

I can't wait to start blogging about all the different types of pizza I am going to eat and (hopefully) create while I'm staying here in Naples. My school doesn't start for another two weeks- the perfect amount of time to explore the city and all pizzerias it has to offer. I will carry a small notebook and a camera with me wherever I go and take notes and photos of each pie I eat. If anyone out there has any advice on where to eat and what to do, I'd love to hear from you. This week I'll start writing reviews on some of Naples' more famous pizzerias, and after that, I'll probably move on to some its lesser known spots. Until then,

Ci vediamo