Naples and the Best Pizza Ever!
When you wander the streets of Naples, you never know what’s going to turn up. Not saying you should take a pass on such historic sites, as Pompeii and Herculaneum. And as all three of my faithful readers know, I’ve written about both.
BUT, neither should you neglect a stroll through both the wide avenues and narrow alleys. On a recent trip, we stopped for a gelato in Naples’s famous Galleria, a palace of a place in the heart of the shopping area.
Not quite true. I had a gelato. My companion had a chocolate martini. There-in lies one of the glories of Europe. Sit down at a wonderful gelato parlor and sip a chocolate martini and nobody bats an eye nor offers a discouraging glance. Europeans view alcoholic beverages as savory delights to make the afternoon sparkle. Americans often view them as a shameful participation in a mind-altering dance with Satan and all his henchmen.
In fact, Americans tend to be more guilt-ridden in general. But, we were in Italy, so sinfulness took to the wing and bothered us not at all, while I gobbled gelato and my companion cheerfully sipped her delightful gift from the twin gods of chocolate and alcohol.
After that it was more strolling and a bit of shopping and staring at the artistic and architectural features of this grand city.
By mid afternoon, hunger raged within us. We left the major areas and turned down a narrow street filled with neighborhood shops of every sort. Hardware shops with windows filled with power tools, and electrical shops that had flashing light bulbs, and household shops packed with brooms and buckets spilling out onto the street. We were no longer in downtown Tourist-ville.
As we walked uphill, a very thin man approached us sporting old shorts, a loose shirt, a straw teardown hat, a five-day stubble, and carrying a menu. He suggested vociferously that we eat at his friend’s restaurant. Well, why not? So we followed him up a block and turned a corner onto an even narrower street. On the corner was a tiny place, with three tables on a fenced-in porch. We were barely separated from the well-worn and well-traveled street.
The thin man disappeared and a waiter suddenly appeared. His name was Vincenzo, which was a good start. So Italian! V stood about five feet tall, had a beautiful smile and welcomed us in perfect English.
“So, Vincenzo, where did you learn to speak English?”
“I lived in Miami for six years.” Immediately followed by, “May I offer you a little something to start and perhaps a bottle of wine?”
Knowing nothing about native Neapolitan wines, we went with Vincenzo’s suggestion. First sip of this white wine made me think I’d made an error. Then the appetizer arrived, small plates of pasta, dressed simply with chips of roasted tomato and bits of garlic. Delicious! And what was more, the wine was a perfect accompaniment!
What would we think about some fresh sardines? Hey, bring ‘em on! V walked the five paces across the street to the neighborhood fishmonger’s. From our table we watched the fresh catch transfer from fishmonger to Vincenzo.
Within ten minutes we had freshly fried sardines in front of us, with a simple pizza margarita and more pasta on the way. If you haven’t tried them, freshly fried sardines, with a squeeze of ripe lemon are crunchily delicious. You eat them head and bones included.
As soon as we’d finished, Vincenzo arrived almost immediately with the rest of our meal. The pasta was similar to the appetizer and also just as delicious. BUT, the pizza was the star of the show! Naples is known as the home of pizza, so we expected a very good pie, but this was better than good…far better, with only four ingredients on top of the crispy edged crust…. fresh tomato sauce, cheese, basil leaves and a light olive oil. Simple is often best and it was the best pizza either of us had ever tasted. No other pizza, before or after has come close to the delicacy Vincenzo brought us.
For one thing, fresh ingredients are always better and with fresh tomatoes, there’s no need to add dried herbs, or garlic, or anything else. For another thing, only a stone oven, with the pizza in the middle, surrounded by a hot wood fire, brings out the best of a hand made crust. By design, the dough is baked unevenly, just barely done in the center, but charred on the edges. You simply cannot duplicate this in a conventional oven any more than you can duplicate pit barbeque without the pit.
Some months later, I still think about that pizza with reverence and passion.
So, I hope you’ve learned my lesson: Walk the back streets, listen to the thin man in shorts, and when the Italian waiter selects your wine, go with it! And, if you’re in Naples, don’t be afraid to sip a chocolate martini for breakfast and later stop in at a tiny restaurant that serves pizza!
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