Friday, September 26, 2003

The PG's bagged one goes on the prowl for the best pies in town

Whether you like it chewy or crisp, salty or sweet, New York-style or Sicilian, taking the first bite from a slice of your favorite pizza is like coming home. Pizza consumption is communal; pizza adoration is deeply personal.

	A pepperoni-onion pizza from Mama Lena's in McKees Rocks, where Munch says the crust is "ethereal."(Doreena Balestreire, Post-Gazette photo)

This is why declaring one pizzamaker the best in Pittsburgh is a controversial act -- too controversial for Munch. If Munch didn't pick your favorite, you'd feel like Munch just said your mother was ugly.

So -- to spare your feelings and save Munch's mug from bruises -- there is no one favorite pizza here. No "winner." No "Best Pizza in Pittsburgh."

There's a lot of great pizza out there.

Most pizza, when hot from the oven, tastes good. A truly remarkable pizza is marked by first-rate ingredients and how they are married.

A pie that can be peeled, slice by slice, over the course of several days and maintain its integrity, hot or cold, is rare and wonderful. Some pizzas must be ordered whole to be appreciated. Some pizza tastes better by the slice.

Here are six places where you should order the whole pie; a few for grabbing a great slice; and several worth noting.

THE WHOLE PIE

If you can raise your eyes from the cases of torti and cannoli, you will see, at the back of the shop, Il Piccolo Forno ("small furnace"), a beautiful baking hearth. The pizzas that rise in it are rarely more than $6 and always impeccable.

The ratio of sauce to crust, of crust to cheese, is perfect. Epicurean toppings -- roasted red peppers, fresh basil, artichokes, fresh mozzarella -- are scattered in an ideal fashion: so they are plentiful but don't infect every bite. When you order olives, you get giant, pitted, green, spicy ones, left whole on the pie.

You can eat on the quick, at plastic tables on the sidewalk, or standing at an elbow-high table inside. Not to say that some don't linger, despite the prevalence of espresso and other short coffee drinks from La Prima next door. Could it be the alchemic fragrance of garlic and tomato, of bread rising? These tables are the lingering-est place in the Strip.

A Friend of Munch (FOM) who knows his pizza as well as he knows his beer spoke wise words to Munch: "Go to Mama Lena's and order the Sicilian, with sausage." Munch will never order anything different at Mama Lena's, for Munch's lifetime or the pizzeria's.

Robert Carrabbia works his special technique of eliminating the air bubbles in the Mama Lena's crust. (Doreena Balestreire, Post-Gazette photo)

Mama's crust is ethereal, pastry-like -- flaky, crunchy, full of airy holes, substantial but not heavy -- the perfect foundation for smoky-sweet coins of fennel sausage. Her sauce is licked with garlic, and ladled on thickly enough to flavor the inch-high crust. The cheese, though creamy, is the least sinful part of this pie.

What is remarkable about Mama Lena's Sicilian: The next day, it's just as tasty.

You have seen this wallpaper before -- of chefs with huge mustaches spinning pizzas -- but never quite so large. Minutello's, a basement restaurant with checkered plastic tablecloths, fake plants and loud arias, looks and smells like a place where pizza is tradition. It's been family-owned for decades, and it's the perfect place to order a big softy of a pizza.

There are few toppings to choose from; keeping it simple ensures that every pizza has elegance and bubbly good humor. Munch favors the combination of thin, spicy pepperoni and onions sauteed into softness. The brick-oven crust is floury and pliant, the sauce piquant, studded with bits of tomato. It's perfect eaten in-house, straight from the oven, when the cheese is nearly liquid.

Sarafino's pizza arrives on a pedestal, as it should. The crust always bubbles, and Munch adores crust bubbles -- and will fight for those slices -- whether crisp or chewy. The same heady pomodoro sauce coating the pasta makes the pizza divine, and the cheese that owner/pizza-slinger Joe Caliguire tops this with is a mixture of whole milk mozzarella and provolone that forms lovely, gooey strings. If you were a night owl in the '90s, the mouth feel of a Sarafino's pizza may seem familiar: Caliguire was owner of La Pizza Del Pazzo in the Strip District.

Sarafino's is a far nicer venue for this awesome pie, beyond the fact that there is seating: It's humming with families and Sinatra, paneled in polished wood and hung with family photos.

Church Brew Works has a long, creative menu, but that doesn't prevent the once-holy space from putting out a mighty fine pizza. The wood-fired brick oven gives the crust an elastic smokiness that lends itself to nontraditional toppings. Munch favors the spicy Southwest chicken pizza, with smoked jalapenos, corn and Monterey Jack cheese. It's got kick. The next day, it'll still make your mouth tingle, but the soft give of the crust -- even cold -- will comfort.

Pizzeria Regina Margherita's pizzas are strikingly simple. There is no other place to order a minimalist pizza topped with Bel Paese, prosciutto and asparagus, or fresh porcini mushrooms and arugula, as Munch has done in the past. Regina Margherita's crust is spongy on the inside, crisp on the outside, blackened in spots and smoky, nutty from the semolina bearings that slide it from the wooden pizza paddle into the super-hot oven, and out.

There are two locations now. In Lawrenceville, brick walls, marble-topped tables and copper vents are urban and stylish. In Bellevue, the original location, the color scheme is a cheery checkerboard black, white and red. Owner Roberto Caporuscio is a literal pizza maestro: He earned this title at the Associazione Verace Pizza Neapolitan in Naples, Italy.

BY THE SLICE

Now, on to slices.

Pizza Vesuvio's very thin, very wide, authentic New York-style slices are perfect for folding over and eating on the go, a la "Saturday Night Fever." But then you'd have less time to appreciate the snap of the crisp crust and its wholesome, floury flavor. The salty-sweetness of the plummy sauce -- spread on thick as jam -- would be lost in a flurry of quick bites.

This will not do.

Slices of Sicilian, lashed with the same sauce, are terrific. White pizza is loaded with fresh veggies, feta and red onions.

Brick walls, tall stools and floor-to-ceiling windows feel arty, not bare. The newcomer shop is purely pizza (OK -- and calzone): New York, Bianca and Sicilian. When it's this good, you don't need anything else.

Not many shops can boast an Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, pinball game. Fiori's does, and it lends campiness to an otherwise-typical family-owned pizzeria/neighborhood hangout, complete with ceiling fans, stainless steel counters, plastic wood-finish booths and chatty gadflys.

The superior pizza has high edges, a thin center and a salty sauce that makes every bite taste a little different from the last. You may not want to stop at one slice; both Fiori's fennel sausage and tricolored hot peppers are compulsory.

Pittsburghers swear by Mineo's. Contrarians prefer Aiello's. Sure, Munch admits, either place can crank out a superlative pie, but overall, inconsistency reigns.

For a late-night slice, Napoli's is reliably good. At Napoli's, it's the crust that's salty, instead of the sauce (Mineo's) or the cheese (Aiello's). The crust sets the bar for crunchiness, perfect if you need a stiff scoop for spicy, crumbly sausage or wet fresh spinach and tomatoes.

THERE ARE PLENTY OF OTHER GOOD PIZZAS OUT THERE.

Pi's (Squirrel Hill) unique crust tastes like a honeyed cracker. Many FOMs don't like the sweetness; Munch thinks it makes the toppings taste richer. Pi's pizzas are light, though toppings are expensive, adding up quickly at $3 a pop.

Though the shop looks like someone lives there full time, Mario's (Regent Square) is basic, good pizza: chewy crust, lightly sauced, thin on cheese.

Occasionally a Pino's (Point Breeze) pizza will taste like it used to, when they were hot and grainy, and there was one shop. The crust -- a slight grit of semolina, a flavor like roasted corn -- was so good it didn't matter what the toppings were. Pignola-studded pesto pollo was Mother of Munch's favorite.

Munch loves the garlic parmesan crust at Pizza Perfectta (Shadyside), especially for a white pizza. Il Pizzaiolo's (Mt. Lebanon) pizzas are often beautiful -- not always -- and toppings are first-rate.

Don Campiti (Brookline) pizza has the thinnest crust of the bunch, and it's almost, not quite, singed -- a sharp, complex flavor. Topped with delicate demilunes of curly, crisped pepperoni, it's sad that the sauce is nondescript, the cheese oily. Caruso (Mt. Lebanon), on the flip side, is deep and chewy, the cheese light and soft, but a sparse, bitter sauce sours the pie.

Luciano's (Bethel Park) is a friendly neighbor, a supporter of local youth athletics. The dining room is more spruced up than most pizzerias, with brick arches, classy wallpaper and booths wide enough for big families. The pizza is average.

There are few pizzerias of note Downtown; Papa J's pies have a steamy, bready crust and gourmet toppings. If only they were a bit less oily. Same goes for Luigi's in Bellevue, where reliability is job one, toppings are fresh, and the Neapolitan is occasionally brilliant.

Unlike most pizzerias, Bado's (Scott) has an extensive list of beers and a dim, pubby interior, but Munch was underwhelmed by the much-touted regular-crust pizza. The Sicilian was overcooked, the crust cardboard tough.

Beto's (Banksville) is an acquired taste: The square crust is pocked and crunchy, the sauce barely there, the topping a fist-sized pile of fluffy, unmelted cheese. If you order it "well-done," they throw it in the oven.

After 20-odd pizzas, Munch's gullet, usually galvanized, rebelled against the thought of Vincent's Pizza Park (Forest Hills). In the car, while weighing the decision -- to Vincent or not to Vincent -- FOM spoke a Vincent's truism: "Anyone who goes there already goes there, and you don't need to tell them to go there."

That settled it.

There were so many other places on Munch's list, charming, no doubt, surprising, waiting to become part of Munch's circular pizza travels. For now, they will have to remain raved about but untasted by Munch: Sir Pizza, Shady Grove, Police Station Pizza, Village Pizza, The O (late night), Jimmy's Downtown Pizza, Perry di Pizzaman's, Pasquale's, Pepperoni's, Del's.

That's a list that demands "Munch Goes for Pizza: The Sequel."

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