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Now that's the crust I remember. I didn't put that as a subtitle to this thread on a whim. It's the gosh-darned truth. There are a lot of places in the DC area that claim NY-Style Pizza and 99% of those claims are complete bullshit. The remaining 1% come oh-so-close but no cigar. Today I had it in, of all places, that deadly, strip of foul restaurants on S. 23rd Street in Crystal City between Eads and Fern. Cafe Pizzaiolo opened up quite recently in a building on the corner that has seen businesses come and go over the past 5 years or so. I would have skipped right by this place because everything on that strip just sucks patootie. But then I saw this review in yesterday's paper and, lo and behold, I'm familiar with the owner from a past life. Owner Larry Ponzi is one of the people responsible for the restaurant in the National Museum of the American Indian. And while it may not be fine dining, Mitsitam Cafe is one of the most unique and worthwhile places to eat in this city simply because of its special menu highlighting a broad array of Native American ingredients and recipes. That venture alone shows that Larry has class and vision. Cafe Pizzaiolo, the restaurant he just opened on his own proves he has talent. He makes two kinds of pizza, NY-style and Neapolitan. Personally I wasn't a fan of the Neapolitan. But I wouldn't hesitate to suggest you try it, as your taste may differ. My problem is that NY style is far and away my preference. And Cafe Pizzaiolo's NY style is far and away better than any NY style pizza I've had in the area. (For the record, my preference has always been Vace, but as I said above, close but no cigar). Great crunch. Great resistance. Great chew. Just enough shimmering oil from the sausage. Wonderful yeasty flavor. Fresh tomato sauce and shredded mozzarella. Pepperoni and roasted garlic also topped my selection today. If you get it, and you should, be sure to keep it simple. The menu has a lot of toppings available that I consider questionable, such as pineapple and chicken breast, but I'm more of a purist and would also make the possession or sale of cinnamon raisin bagels a capital crime if given the chance. Hey, so when is Bebo's pizza oven going to be running? Who cares anymore? Unless you are allergic to NY style pizza, why even consider putting up with all the service issues at Bebo? Drinkie drinks? Aside from the fresh brewed iced tea, today there were five red wines and four white wines (including a prosecco) to choose from. All Italian and not a single cute animal on the labels. By the glass from 5-8 dollars, bottles run $19-$29, but if you choose to take your bottle to go instead of dining in the restaurant, that bottle price drops almost in half. Beers? I didn't see any drafts, but the bottle list is nothing to sneeze at. No Bud or Miller in the bunch. Bell's Two Hearted or Oberon. Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA or Indian Brown Ale. Peroni. Fuel Cafe Stout from Lakefront Brewery in Wisconsin. All about $4.75/bottle. The dining room is pleasant. Warm wood and colorful abstract oil paintings. Neon light accents and Italian advertising posters. I think it was a coffee bar, Starbucks-type knockoff before Cafe Pizzaiolo opened and you most definitely will see some resemblance. It definitely has that cafe feel. But as any Rays the Steaks diner will tell you, "who cares about decor?" (I'm also stuck thinking of George Costanza saying, "Eyebrows? Who cares about eyebrows?") This is the kind of pizza that can be baked early in the day, left out on a tray stand and eaten by the cut slice hours later and still taste great even if it's not reheated. And he sells it by the slice too! In a world surrounded by crap delivery pizza, Pizzaiolo delivers too. So now there's no need to order delivery from anywhere else if you're in the neighborhood. Larry is an independent local businessman who lives in the area and clearly takes pride in what he does. He is EXACTLY the kind of person who needs the support and word of mouth by people like us. And he wants to hear what you think, too. So be sure to tell him. Bottom line.......consider a visit to Cafe Pizzaiolo. If you take Metro, it's only about an 8 minute walk from the Crystal City station and essentially is no farther than going to Bebo or any of the other spots there on Crystal Drive. It's just a couple blocks further away from the river. If you like it, post it. If you don't, send me a PM first so I can come and choke you with a cinnamon raisin bagel before you have a chance to type your first vowel. ETA: This is $20 Tuesday country, pardners. -
Who have you stolen, Ramparts? You’ve been a neighborhood regular in the Fairlington section of Alexandria for over 30 years. Four years ago, my first few visits were limited to your sports bar, a smoky, loud, pickup scene, separated from your restaurant by a series of heavy double doors. The full menu was available on the bar side, with Jack Daniels featuring a little too prominently on the description of several plated offerings. I’d dabbled with your choices, a hamburger here, a salad there. My samplings revealed nothing noteworthy, with the exception of your signature hot peas ($5) appetizer, deep fried legumes with a crave-able blend of celery salt, garlic powder, black pepper, and cayenne. Served in a metal basket on parchment paper, these were fun to eat and interesting to enjoy, evoking the image of Mexican jumping beans. I even ventured to your restaurant side once before, maybe two or three years ago. I recall digging the vibe, Cheers meets log cabin meets speakeasy. I am a sucker for dimmer lighting and muted acoustics. You featured both with your wooden, sound-absorbing walls and soft glow. Servers seemed friendly and helpful, chatting intimately with groups of regulars, a true neighborhood joint. But my adoration ended there, as your entrees never delivered anything more than a ho-hum monotone to accompany the friendly scene. Back then, I recall a trout dish composed of supermarket quality ingredients, seasoned without much interest, plated without much consideration of vertical lift or other visual design. I was OK with all of this. A single interesting and hard-to-find-elsewhere item on your menu was fine with me, and I looked forward to those hot peas the few times I wound up stepping through your doors. But recent experience has changed everything. You’ve given me such hope, such a sense of mystery! We aimed for your doors this week out of convenience--we required a specific number of walking miles to end the day’s workout. We entered a busy scene on the restaurant side, surprisingly hopping for what is normally a mid-week slump in the restaurant industry. Since my last visit, both the regular and daily specials menu had received a significant facelift. More interesting dishes appeared, described with multiple components in a more eye-catching and professional formatting. This seemed promising. Forgetting everything I read in the recent meat ethics discussion thread, I ordered a medium-rare hangar steak that arrived with a hefty, well-browned crab cake on top, adjacent to Brussels sprouts cooked with bacon, shallots, and littleneck clams ($20), all finished with a peppercorn wine demi-glace. Flash-fried potato sticks crossed over the top of the crabcake creating dramatically attractive angles, and a slash of horseradish cream sauce cut through the side of the plate. At first taste, I knew this was not the cuisine of visits past. This was high quality, well-cooked, deftly seasoned, and interesting bite-after-bite. I stole a few nibbles of my dining companion’s Ramparts signature hamburger ($11) and was equally impressed with ingredient quality, cooking method, and balance of flavors. This burger features components that just work---smoked gouda, mushrooms, fried onion strings, a sweet-hot mustard, combining for powerful flavor. The one flat note for me was the fries, which obviously steamed more than they fried, resulting in a softer texture. My dining companion prefers this texture, so he finished those while I happily stole more of his burger. The steak and crab entrée was too much for us to complete, and leftovers were even better the next day, another harbinger of quality. I began to wonder why these menu selections were of such higher satisfaction than of visit pasts---was it a new, behind the scenes consultant or rock star staff member? My suspicions escalated once dessert arrived. The apple tart a la mode, described as if it were a basic comfort food on the dessert menu, had been plated with much eye for design on a long, rectangular dish. Paper-thin sliced apples graced an adorable tart in a post-centrifuge pattern dusted with cinnamon, along side finely crushed graham cracker, vanilla bean ice cream, and whipped cream sprouting a fresh sprig of mint. Go, order this dessert, and tell me this shortbread is not one of the best you can recall having. I almost fell out of my chair, marched back to the kitchen, and demanded to know who was back there. Figuring this was a one-off experience, we returned to the restaurant for a second visit a few days later. The sports bar is a full-on fume fest, but the restaurant bar is smoke free, so we saddled up to take a seat. These may be the most comfortable bar chairs I have encountered in years. Something about the height, cushioning and back seemed custom-designed for my form and frame. This time, we examined the drink menu more carefully. Bottled wine selections offered a few hopeful choices, but by-the-glass offerings were limited to the pinot grigios, sauvignon blancs, chardonnays, merlots, cabernet sauvignons, and malbecs of the every day table. On the other hand, although local microbrews had not yet made an appearance, a dozen beer selections on tap provided several excellent choices. We did not order mixed drinks, but a look at the fully stocked bar revealed several less common choices, probably favorites of frequent locals. I also noticed four kinds of bitters—peach, chocolate, rhubarb, and orange, another promising possibility for future visits. We aimed for small dishes on this second visit, a bowl of corn and crab chowder and hot wings (my dining partner’s craving; it’s a long story involving a grappling match with three coconuts and the subsequent aftermath). The chowder ($6), once again, evoked a reaction of me wanting to storm the kitchen to investigate who was behind the menu and the kitchen prep. Masterfully tiny potato cubes, corn stock-infused cream, fresh and meaty crab, this was balanced soup of a much higher standard than I thought would be possible from this location. Hot wings were hot wings ($9), a heaping basket, appropriately fried, nicely balanced acidic heat, accompanied by slightly-steamed carrots, a nice touch with the blue cheese dressing tasting light and of good quality. We once again ordered the apple tart dessert, which arrived on a round rather than rectangular dish. While immensely tasty, the simple switch from ground cinnamon to powdered sugar garnish, missing mint sprig, and different plating took away from the transcendence of the previous edition. The venue was packed to the gills, and these changes were all symptoms of a kitchen in the weeds. So, Ramparts, who did you steal? What kitchen manager, sous chef, or other gem do you have hiding behind your kitchen’s swinging doors? Consistency will be your challenge, but if you keep the quality of ingredients I’ve been seeing, and every-now-and-then reveal triumphant brilliance of an artfully delicious masterpiece, the future will be bright, gallantly gleaming.- 3 replies
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