Welcome to my pizza montage. This is from Piccolo Forno. Their pizza style mimics that of Northern Italy. You know, the Lucca area. Less rise to their crust and more of a crunch.
There’s some prosciutto, arugula, red peps, and a bit or artichoke. The artichoke was a bit overwhelming and mushy but what are ya gonna do?
I interviewed a real-live Pizzaiolo in Washington, DC. A pizzaiolo is a rare breed these days. They’re trained in Naples and are true experts of the pizza craft. From the ingredients to the cooking process, they know their stuff.
I talked with Pizzaiolo Ettore Rusciano, the owner of Menomale. He imports everything from the heart of Italy to provide a legit pizza experience. I’ll have more info about the pizza and restaurant later, but for now enjoy the video.
Some say Pittsburgh’s Little Italy is in Bloomfield. But those people are wrong. They’ve never been to the secret best Pizza place in Pittsburgh - the backyard of a certain Dan Cardone.
I’m lucky enough to frequent this quasi-pizzeria regularly and it never disappoints. When you get over the shock that there’s a legitimate pizza oven in the backyard (next to the Bocci court, naturally), the surreal thought thatmaybe, just maybe, you’ve been transported to Naples begins to set in.
The oven is a magical thing. Dough, cheese, and sauce go in, and out comes a circular, bubbly, disc, that shares the same DNA as the pizzas served in the heart of Italy. The edges get a little charred during the cooking. But because of the 900 degree temperatures, it remains fluffy and soft on the inside. It’s hard outer shell is just an evolutionary feature of pizza and, obviously, how it’s survived in the wild so long.
No matter what comes out of that oven, it’s automatically added to the list you keep in the back of your mind of the top 10 pizzas you’ve ever eaten. There’s no discussion, no discourse. It’s added onto the list and there’s nothing you can do about it. Then you spend the rest of your life wondering if you’re the type of person who builds a brick oven in your backyard. And guess what? You probably are. Start collecting those bricks.
While my Lawrenceville apartment can’t currently host a pizza oven without fear of burning down a city block, this is the next best thing. Enjoy the photos - they chronicle my latest outing there and what it takes for a pizza to go from a chunk of dough to a slice of heaven.
Around the corner from Corneldaniel’s Zico shop, the crust as the Foccaciaria is made by an Egyptian. Nevertheless, people anxiously wait outside for a table.
This article is interesting for a number of reasons. First, it delves into the pizza making hierarchy in Italy. It’s not surprising that this is a serious profession, but at the same time it pays poorly. After all, they’re making pizza. While it’s rewarding and emotionally enriching, it won’t make you rich. Until pizza becomes currency.
Many Italians are hanging up their dough hooks to pursue other careers. What does a professional pizza maker do post-pizza? Maybe retire to a beet farm or get into the calzone business.
Back to the hierarchy–pizzerias employ a “Neapolitan” to train and supervise employees. An overseer with pizza sauce flowing through their veins and years of experiencing packed into their DNA. The problem is that there aren’t enough Neapolitans to keep up with demand! This can be the beginning of a failing pizza infrastructure A downward spiral smeared with spoiled vegetables and canned sauce. Without a Neapolitan on staff it’s complete bedlam.
Secondly, many Italian pizzerias employ workers from Egypt and Bangladesh. Proving that pizza is truly the one-food to rule them all. A circular disc that welcomes all life into its delicious portal. Once you succumb to the pizza siren, you’re within its grasp for eternity. One day, pizza shall inherit the earth.
Thanks to Justine for sending this my way.
Also, the article tries to shame the pizza establishment for employing an Egypt native to make pizza which is just disgusting.