Pizza Review: Pizza Pescara on the North Side

It’s not often I travel to the North Side. If I do it’s for the Mattress Factory or heading to the Pour House for Rock N’ Roll Karaoke. One time I even planted a tree on the North Side! But that was so long ago. In my adventures, I never would have once stumbled upon Pizza Pescara. It’s on the highest heights of of the North Side surrounded by graveyards, defunct businesses, and a car wash that would probably make your car dirtier. It’s not the thriving cultural epicenter of pizza. 

A few months ago I handed out a coupon for a free pizza to the coworker that could come up for the best name for a new product. Justin won and yesterday he decided to redeem his coupon. It wasn’t quite a “break glass incase of emergency” situation, but we were both craving pizza pretty hard. Ready for a pizza adventure we piled into a car and drove to the summit of Brighton road to visit Pizza Pescara.

Preparing for the trip wasn’t easy. There’s no web presence whatsoever save for a few Urban Spoon reviews.  Sometimes the best pizza is also the hardest to find. Mostly because they aren’t trying to impress anyone, they’re just plugging along doing what they do best. 

Pizza Pescara has been open for three years and what do they have to show for it? Almost nothing save for a simple mixer behind the counter. I wish we could’ve showed up while they were mixing dough, maybe that’s something I have to call ahead for? Their “dining area” is bare, save for Pittsburgh sports memorabilia. So, pretty typical Pittsburgh pizza experience.

The first thing I noticed about Pizza Pescara was that their prices are out of this world cheap. We went into this expecting to order a medium pizza. The perfect size for two adults who don’t want to overeat and suffer the latter half of the work day. Unexpectedly, the cashier directed us towards a cruddy black-and-white coupon laminated to the counter. He was kind enough to inform us that by using the power of this coupon we could get a large one topping pizza for less than a medium plain pizza ($8!). That’s my kind of pizza logic. A large it is. 

There’s the pizza, in all its Pescara’s glory. Note how the cheese isn’t evenly cooked and, in fact, is even missing from a few areas. It’s not a bad thing, but something I’ve never seen before. I’m digging the crispy-cheese line halfway down the pizza, almost like a checkpoint of your pizza progress. “Congrats, you’ve made it halfway,” it’s saying. Beautiful and functional!

I found the cheese to be too thick at some times and almost non-existent at others. Most of the cheese laid atop the pizza like a shell, waiting to be removed to get to the guts of the slice. Which is fine, because the sauce here is outstanding. I spoke to the owner about it and he told me they purposefully make the sauce thicker than most other places. It’s spicy, hearty, and is the real star of the pizza show. 

I found the crust to be fluffy and a bit chewy. It wasn’t terrible, but I don’t think it added anything to the situation. 

Pizza Pescara is just plodding along and just making ends meet, according to Mike, an employee (and maybe owner?). It’s a shame, because for it existing in North Side equivalent of Everest’s Dead Zone, it’s fairly good pizza. That sauce is unreal and worth the trip. Not the best pizza, but an interesting take on the classic. 

I give it four out of five pizzas. 

Pizza Review: 2Amys Pizzeria in Washington, DC

There’s pizza then there’s pizza. Then there’s, like, pizza. Then there’s Pizza. 2Amys is the latter, capital “P” izza. Which kind of makes sense because it resides in the capital of the United States of America. 2Amys is home to neopolitan pizza and serves a delicious D.O.C. certified pie - that means there’s a standard of quality and expertise with your pizza. There aren’t too many D.O.C. spots around, so if you can find one do yourself a favor and take a bite out of the D.O.C. certified pie. I guess what I’m saying is that D.O.C. is D.A.N. certified. 

But 2Amys! My oh my. This pizza is the kind of pizza you dream of the night before Pizza Christmas. It’s the pizza that the Pizza King and Queen eat during the Annual Pizza Ceremony of Mozzarella and Majestic-ism. As seen in the photo above, every portion of the pizza is cooked to perfection. The crust is slightly charred in some spots and fluffy in the others, sign of the unpredictable and unruly flames striking out against the rising dough. The cheese remains white and pure; untouched by the elements waiting for you to consume it. The cheese doesn’t hog the pizza, but shares it with the wonderfully simple tomato sauce. Basil is strewn about as if a gentle breeze blew them onto the pizza as it was coming out of the oven and nobody minded its appearance. 

It’s an extraordinary pizza that may  be the best I’ve ever eaten. It’s authentic and harkens back to the classic type of pizza, which happens to be my favorite. In fact, it’s so classic that you have to ask for your pizza to be cut. Otherwise you have an entire oval to deal with and chances are you’ll end up looking like a fool. A fool with a pizza. 

2Amys is more than just pizza. I was there with my pal Pat and my pizza lady, Christa, and we ate quite a variety of food. 

Despite my warning, Pat got some sort of calzone thing. He seemed to enjoy it. 

They also served doughnuts. I don’t really understand why, but 2Amys must get that question a lot because they have an entire section of their website is dedicated to this delicious treat.

But the donut wasn’t the end of the meal! What you see above is a “Foggy Senior.” I don’t even know if they’re on the menu, but Christa worked her magic and shazam - we were all enjoying a small cup of espresso with a dollop of ice cream. Just a dollop! But the combination is unreal. The espresso and ice cream complement one another perfectly, like two long lost friends who come back together and pick up like nothing ever happened. 

And that’s what everything feels like at 2Amys. It’s all so natural, authentic, and legit. Every item makes sense to be on the menu. It’s an establishment built on common sense and tradition and 2Amys does not disappoint. I give each Amy a five out of five.

Pizza, The Song

I’ve been thinking of opening up a pizza-themed nightclub called ‘Za for some time, but I wasn’t sure what kind of music I’d play. There’s stuff from the Pizza Kids, but that’ll only get you so far. Luckily, there’s a new pizza song that’s going to take my club from soft dough to a crispy hopping crust. 

As seen above, the Pizza Robot Song is simple and hypnotic. Exactly what you’d want in a club song. The lyrics are as follows:

Pizza (repeat x 1530)

Simple, right? 

Turn That Dumpy Electric Oven into a Brick Oven

Please pay no attention to that laval field in the middle of that pizza. That’s not what we’re here to discuss (I think that splotchiness is due to an excess amount of sauce, I’ll investigate more today). What is important is dat crust. Look at it! Charred yet flaky. Crunchy yet solid. It’s the outline, the pizza border signifying where this pizza’s domain begins an ends. It’s the type of barrier you see in your dreams or in a restaurant that’s home to a brick oven. But hey, I made this pizza in an electric oven thereby throwing the entire pizza-baking hierarchy out of whack. 

The pizza you see above is from Mercurio’s. I’ve included a photo of “true brick oven pizza” for crust reference. Not too far off. 

To achieve crispness, you gotta learn to embrace the broiler in your oven. Brick ovens cook pizzas between 900 and 1200 degrees Fahrenheit and most electric ovens won’t get hotter than 550 degrees. I’m sure that limit is the result of years of brick oven lobbyist in an effort to secure their domain, but those days are over. 

The broiler is the key to excess heat. Once the oven is raised to its max, you’ll need to open the door to trick the oven into thinking it is cooling off. Meanwhile, there should be a pizza stone hiding in the oven absorbing all the heat. It’ll remain piping hot while the ambient heat leaks out. Once the oven releases some heat (usually only 30 seconds) you can shut the door and turn the broiler on. I’m not sure of the science, but what you get is a pizza stone that exceeds the temperature limit.

Keeping the stone four inches from the broiler is important so that the entire production cooks in harmony. Let the pizza stone and broiler sit alone in the oven for 10 minutes, then you can put your dough/sauce/cheese/whatever in. 

It’s a novel approach to getting a different type of pizza out of your oven. You might have to mess around with the formula, but if your'e dying for that brick oven taste give this a shot. You probably won’t be disappointed. Who knows!