Hot Dish Review

A holiday rerun, exactly one year ago….Pizza, and who makes the best, is a subject that elicits a great deal of passion from practically everyone. How can anyone claim to be the best? Some folks like it saucy, others like it dry. My parents like cracker-thin crust while my neighbor prefers hand-tossed. The battle between New York and Chicago styles is legendary, each camp fiercely loyal to their pie.

Antico Pizza Napoletana has received more press, mostly positive, than any other new pizza joint in recent memory. Their artisan pies are STG certified “Verace Artiginale” by the European Commission’s Istituto Mediterraneo di Certificazione.

Owner and pizzaiolo Giovanni Di Palma hails from New Jersey and New York, via his obvious Italian heritage. A visit to his grandparents’ village near Naples inspired him to open Antico in October of 2009, using flour from Molino San Felice made in the village of Cimitile.

Antico means “ancient”, and Di Palma adheres to the methods and traditions of true pizza di Napoli, hand-kneading the dough daily and charring the pizzas in one of three hand-made Acunto ovens, world renowned for their intense 900 degree heat contained by ancient Santa Maria brick and volcanic rock from Mount Vesuvius.

Specific ingredients are required for the pizza to be STG certified, including fresh Mozzarella di Bufala from Campania and San Marzano tomatoes.

LC and I visited Antico last Friday, needless to say with a few preconceived expectations based upon all the hoopla. Housed in a free-standing white brick building, the space is industrial, yet exudes a certain warmth, no doubt from the hot-as-hell ovens, and from the man himself, who brings his passion for pizza to the table every single day.

Still without a liquor license, we picked up a six-pack of Peroni and I toted a chilled bottle of Lambrusco….gotta keep it real! The original main dining area is separated from the kitchen only by the counter where Giovanni and his pizzaioli toss and top the dough. Enough wooden picnic tables are available to seat around 60 people comfortably and there were likely that many there on Friday. Each table has a big roll of brown paper towels and plastic cups. Who needs fancy? We relaxed with our drinks and waited as the speakers belted out Italian opera…..classic.

We tried two pizzas, the first a Margherita, topped simply with Mozzarella di Bufala, fresh basil, and San Marzano tomatoes. I had heard Antico’s pizzas were “wet” so I was a bit worried. I’m not a fan of saucy pizzas, and I like the crust extra-crispy.

Giovanni himself brought it out and cut it at our table. It was a big pie, perhaps 18″, so I was impressed that the center was not soggy. However, the ratio of tomato to cheese was certainly heavy on the tomato. In keeping with the casual service, the pizzas are served on metal sheets on brown paper.

Our second pizza was the Capricciosa topped with mushroom, artichoke, prosciutto cotto, and bufala. LC discovered the condiment table with hot pepper flakes, pickled hot red peppers, and parmesan and got us some of each. We both preferred this pie, especially with the addition of more spice! But I found that once I had eaten the central part of a slice, I was left with about 3″ of crust, so I had amassed a pile of “ends”. LC, on the other hand, ate all the crust, causing him to feel “full of dough” later….LOL.

I was on my third slice when Giovanni pulled up a chair at the end of our table, poured himself a glass of my Lambrusco, and started talking about his passion for pizza, commenting “It’s a lot more than great pizza. Look around the room, everyone’s got a smile on their face. Nobody’s texting, they’re enjoying the experience.” So true.

You may have guessed by now, it wasn’t my favorite pizza ever, but I loved the atmosphere. From the music to the frenetic pace of the smiling pizzaioli in the kitchen, Antico feels authentic. Perhaps I would return for the Bianca, or white pizza, with four Italian cheeses. Or maybe I would try of of their calzoni that are so enormous they are cut into individual servings.

But our experience wasn’t over yet….

The biggest culinary revelation of the evening, and perhaps of the year, was the cannolis. Ever since I ate one at a deli in New York, I’ve hated them. I mean loathe them. Quite a bit has been written about Antico’s cannolis so I knew I would have to try one. I thought we’d just take one home to be polite but Giovanni insisted I needed to eat it immediately after he made it.

Di Palma’s cannolis are fresh. He makes the thin, crisp cookie shells and fills them with old fashioned cream that is remarkably light and ethereal. He brought over two huge cannolis, one with chocolate chips and the other flavored with Nutella. I took a bite. Damn! Not even the same species as those tiny, hard, stale things in New York filled with disgusting frosting.

That was my first real cannoli and I can assure you it won’t be my last. The best in Atlanta? Damn straight. But the battle of the pizza pies will surely rage on.

1093 Hemphill Avenue 404-724-2333 (phone orders accepted)

A re-post in honor of AD’s return to Atlanta after her worldly travels! I suspect you’ll see similar eye candy in the coming week….

Me and AD went to Fritti last Friday, on one of Atlanta’s last balmy summer nights. I had not visited in quite some time, not since Ricardo hired the new chef, but I’ve long considered his authentic Neopolitan pies some of the best in town.

AD is well versed in wine, having worked for a distributor for over a year. However, neither of us have developed a distinct palette for Italian wines, so we tried a couple and settled on a bottle of Primitivo Salento, Rosa del Golfo. At a mere $36 it was a tasty bargain.

We tracked down Ricardo at Sotto Sotto. It was nice seeing him in a chef’s coat again….back in his element. By the time we were seated outside we were two hungry chicks! I’ve seen Rachael Ray make arancini and wanted to give them a try as an appetizer. Deep fried risotto and sausage croquettes, arancini are served with warm marinara and took the edge off our hunger.

Usually, I order the pancetta, caramelized onion, and hot pepper pie, but wanted to try something different. We opted for two pizzas, the speck e rucola with smoked prosciutto, smoked mozzarella, cherry tomatoes and arugula and the funghi di bosco with crimini and portobello mushrooms and white truffle oil. I had to add some caramelized onions to the funghi making it absolutely amazing! The sweet onions, truffle oil and mushrooms were a great combination. The other pie was smoky and delicious with fresh arugula on top. I added some hot pepper flakes and our fabulous waitress, who used to work at Beleza, grated some fresh parmesean on top.

I like my pizza crust crispy. Crusty. Charred. After a glass of wine I forgot to order them extra done, so there was some unfortunate sogginess in the center of both. But the flavors were as luscious as ever.

AD thought we would have leftovers but that didn’t happen. Our server asked about dessert and when I expressed my uncertainty on which to choose she said the magic words….chocolate soup. Sotto Sotto serves this most amazing dessert which I have not had the pleasure of slurping in at least three years so the moment the words escaped her lips I was already saying “bring it on!”

We ordered a port and a tawny, both very good, to have with the chocolate soup. Ricardo brought over a taste of tawny from Sotto Sotto and we chatted about a new Spanish tapas joint in Decatur.

Before we know it, a chill will be in the air, the leaves will fall, there will be a shadow where there once was sun. And it’ll be too cold for AD to wear that white dress….see, winter sucks!

309 N. Highland Avenue 404-880-9559

One of my all-time favorites, Floataway Cafe, remains an Atlanta classic after twelve years in business. With so many new restaurants constantly opening, it’s often hard for me to get back to my old standbys.

To be honest, after Anne’s expansion and renovation a couple of years ago, I was afraid the space may have lost its charm. However, when I finally visited a few months later, I found the main dining room’s whimsical atmosphere intact.

Along with the physical renovation came a new chef, Drew Belline, who renovated the somewhat static menu. My favorite dish, the chicken with warm bread salad, was taken off. I would be boycotting Floataway until it was back. But that would turn out to be unnecessary as I called Anne (Quatrano, who owns Floataway, Baccanalia, and Abattoir with partner/husband Clifford Harrison, but you already knew that, right?) and she said I could simply request the brined chicken a day ahead if I wanted it. Fabulous.

That too, would turn out to be unnecessary. By the time I finally revisited last weekend the chicken was back on the menu. From what Anne said, I wasn’t the only one in love with that bird. Funny, I don’t order chicken anywhere else.

Floataway’s menu has both an Italian accent and a Southern one. Having little affection for either, the restaurant and I are an odd couple. There is a section devoted to pastas and another to pizzas. Sweet corn, crowder peas, and a strudel made with apples from Elijay bring it down home. Many of Atlanta’s food writers seem to have some bizarre love affair with their grilled chicken livers but I promise you I won’t be among them.

LC and I made our way through the warehouses on Zonolite to the restaurant’s unlikely location. It was his first Floataway visit and my first time seated in the addition. The newer dining room is spacious but I still prefer the original space.

Clifford Harrison does the wine program and keeps the list well-edited and affordable. We chose the $42 Chateauneuf du Pape Lazaret, a softer red with subtle spice and cherry notes, and ordered an appetizer. Normally I get a few cheeses. Floataway, and now Abattoir, are Atlanta’s culinary stars of cheese and accompaniments. Having studied their compositions, now I do a pretty good rendition at my house. So instead we tried the ridiculously irresistible sounding pizza with roasted figs, prosciutto, gorgonzola, and balsamic.

Anne and Clifford’s people can make bread. And they can make pizza dough too. Chewy and crunchy, the pizza crust held the orgasmic combination of ingredients above topped with bright arugula. Salty, sweet, and sharp. Big enough for a meal for two, we took half of it home. Just wish I had requested it cooked well-done so the center of the crust would have been crisper.

And then there was the entree. Described as wood oven roasted Springer Mountain chicken with warm bread salad. The charred skin covered juicy meat that begged to be eaten with fingers. We obliged. The bread salad lacked the intense vinegary bite it had in its former incarnation, but it was delicious nonetheless. There were pinenuts and wilted arugula but it seems something was missing. Something sweet. Cranberries?

We paired the chicken with a side of fried okra. As you may know, like fried green tomatoes, fried okra can be one of my pet peeves when prepared incorrectly. Just like Miller Union, Floataway buys only local and organic produce. Unlike Miller Union, however, their okra had flavor. Although it was cut lengthwise which is just plain weird, the breading was very light, and didn’t mask the ubergreen freshness of the okra. Damn, it was good.

My dessert experiences at Floataway have been far from stellar including a grainy semifreddo and other somewhat boring cakes and such. Suffice it to say I have taken to skipping dessert there altogether. But the blueberry brown butter tart with buttermilk sorbeto sounded yummy, so we gave it a try.

A thin slice was full of blueberries complemented by the slightly tangy sorbeto. Probably the best dessert I’ve had there but I’m still not swooning over it.

The service, as always, was exceptional. Hopefully I can return before another year passes!

1123 Zonolite Road 404-892-1414

Last weekend was little T’s last in town before going back to school in Texas, so a herd of us went to Zoo Atlanta for some good, smelly fun.

It was lunchtime and some of our group had already eaten while the rest of us were at the mercy of what the zoo had to offer. You can’t expect much from any theme park when it comes to food. There are always burgers, hot dogs, chicken fingers, pizza, and quite often turkey legs.

Unfortunately, Zoo Atlanta doesn’t have turkey legs, unless you’re counting the ones walking around in their habitats. The choices were meager, at best. LC popped into a tiny to-go place, getting a droopy, greasy slice of pepperoni pizza. I was hungry, but not enough to take the bite he offered.

I waited. After the reptile house, the gorillas, and the pandas, we finally found a free-standing cafe. We were ecstatic, mainly because it offered a break from the ridiculous humidity outside.

Most of us chose the cheeseburger basket, while LC got another slice of pepperoni pizza, with pickles of course. Although not pretty, once decorated with lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles from the toppings bar, and slathered with mayo, my cheeseburger was actually pretty good, served with relatively crispy shoestring fries.

Meanwhile, the animals that live at the zoo are thriving on gourmet cuisine prepared behind the scenes specifically for their species. And that’s a good thing. I don’t think those hairy orangutans would be too pleased if they were served that pizza.

Now I know why they say “don’t feed the animals!”

Remember when you were a kid and your family piled into the Chevy to go to the pizza parlor? Chubby Italian guys tossed pizza dough high into the air as kids and parents watched in delight, the heady aroma of sausage, onions, and peppers wafting through the air. There was a sort of mystique, a palpable excitement, surrounding the experience. Simply awesome.

Well, kiss those days goodbye my friend. Little Caesars has put the final nail in that coffin.

While establishments like Antico Napoletana and Varasano’s Pizzeria are attempting to elevate the humble pizza pie, Little Caesars is now offering “Hot & Ready” pizzas to-go. They are pre-made and boxed up, much like McDonald’s wraps a dozen cheeseburgers in advance, and kept warm behind the counter.

You can get a generic size large pepperoni pizza for only $5. Other varieties, like Ultimate Supreme and 3 Meat Treat are available, depending on your area. Bland crust topped with lackluster sauce and tons of cheap cheese is practically blasphemous. I could probably make a better “pizza” with what’s in my fridge….how about a tortilla topped with ketchup and Kraft American slices?

So if you’re hungry for the pizza parlor nostalgia of your childhood, check out Antico for the atmosphere, or Varrasano’s for a real hand-tossed pie, made with authentic ingredients and lots of love.

After a day out on the boat on Lake Burton, LC and I ventured down the mountain to the little town of Clayton.

The receptionist at the spa had given LC a laundry list of activities while I was getting a massage, including hiking to the falls (check), and driving into Clayton for dinner (check). She recommended three places. We found two, located on a quaint but cool little strip and debated outside for a moment, when a man outside overheard us and said Zeppelin’s was the place to go. He happened to be the chef, and ironicly the former chef of the other place.

We stepped into the dim bar, leading into a small dining room with light wood tables, warm lighting, fresh flowers on each table, and brightly painted walls covered with framed album covers from the 70′s. The atmosphere was a retro psychadelic, with a young hipster staff.

We settled into a cushy banquette along the wall and ordered water. Enough beer already! I had read the specials on the board outside and thought the seafood chowder sounded good. Two cups, please. White broth with baby shrimp, clams, and sliced potatoes was deceivingly light.

LC’s been on a salad kick, doesn’t matter if it’s a fried chicken salad with hollandaise dressing, he still thinks the word “salad” implies that it’s healthy. Zeppelin’s Buck Creek Salad sounded fantastic, romaine with blue cheese and pecans, drizzled with Cappy’s special dressing made with dates, figs, and raisins. I love dried fruit in salads and assumed the dressing would be a vinaigrette with pieces of the chopped fruits. However, it turned out to be precisely as described….thick, pasty, and sugary. I wasn’t thrilled to find the unmentioned croutons among the greens either. It was a cloyingly sweet start. Needless to say, LC liked it.

Since we arrived around 9:00pm they no longer were serving the pastas and entrees. Hell, they’d go out of business in the city but I guess country folk like to eat before the sun goes down. Luckily, they were still serving their flatbread pizzas, with several combinations to choose from, but being difficult I decided to make up my own with ricotta, caramelized onions, black olives and Canadian bacon.

When it was delivered to our table, I immediately noticed the pizza’s overabundance of cheese and the fact that the onions were raw instead of caramelized. There was so little Canadian bacon that it looked like they had dropped a few of the tiny cubes on it accidentally.

The flatbread’s crust was thin and crispy, and would have remained so with less cheese. I liked the subtle flavor and texture of the ricotta beneath the layer of molten mozzarella. Although the flatbread was only about a 12″ square, we couldn’t even finish half. We took the remainder home for lunch the next day.

Zeppelin’s is the kind of place I would probably visit frequently if I lived in Clayton, but that, my friend, will never ever happen.

88 N. Main Street, Clayton, GA 706-212-0101

Seems like a lifetime ago when I first stepped foot into Fellini’s. It was the pizza joint’s original space in Little 5 Points, a long narrow space along the strip on Euclid….I believe it was part of what is now The Porter.

Back then, Little 5 Points was a dangerous place, swarming with pierced and tattooed teens, skinheads, punks, hippies, and drug addicts. Fellini’s was notorious for having a rather surly staff, but they served the best damn pizza in town. And they served it by the slice….perfect for us punks living in poverty. Not to mention, 80% of our food budget was dedicated to liquid nutrition.

Fellini’s quickly outgrew its first location, moving around the corner on the plaza. That is where me and the guys in the band spent many hours of many days, drinking cheap pitchers of beer and eating enormous slices of pizza with super-thin crust and just the right amount of sauce and cheese. Additional toppings could be added, then the slice would go into the big oven behind the counter, coming out crisp and gooey. I always got mushrooms, onions, jalapenos, and extra cheese.

When the notorious pizza joint moved to Ponce it lost much of its personality, however, the pizza hasn’t changed. Only my third visit to this location, LC and I stopped by for a slice after we picked up his daughter at the airport last week. The three of us sat on the patio, enjoying the beautiful Summer day.

Huge slices were brought out by a skinny, tattooed chick (some things never change), mine with black olives and ham. LC ordered jalapenos, of course, so I had to steal a few pieces. Copious amounts of parmesan and hot pepper flakes finished our slices.

Looks like Fellini’s has cleaned up its act, with the slick exterior and family friendly atmosphere, but its rock ‘n’ roll soul lurks just below the surface, a sizzling subversive memory right under the cheese.

Recommended by my Godmother’s husband, Pizza Pie (pronounced “pee”) is located in Braunfels, a tiny town just ten minutes from our tiny town, and home to one of my favorite castles. I was excited to get out of the house and spend some time among the antiquities contained within the old stone walls that surround the castle.

Little did I know that the restaurant is not near the castle, but rather a couple of miles away at a tennis center. It’s one of those places with a 15 page menu, with everything from pork to pasta. Oh, and they do serve pizza.

My Mom treated me, my cousin and her two daughters to lunch there after a brief souvenir run by the castle. It took some time to review the lengthy menu but the five of us finally decided on five vastly different entrees.

Three of them ordered salads, one of which was drowned in creamy dressing, the others with dressing on the side. An appetizer of bruschetta looked good but I didn’t get a taste due to the language barrier. Our table received one baked rigatoni, an enormous portion that got good reviews. Another, my Godchild, ordered a Hawaiian pizza. Nothing about it looked good. The crust wasn’t browned, and the toppings of ham, tomato, and pineapple made the center soggy. She didn’t like it.

Mom ordered fish, confirming that it was sauteed and not fried, however it turned out to be breaded. Plain boiled potatoes were served alongside. I tried a bite and was not impressed. My cousin ordered the ham, covered with a brown gravy. She offered me a taste and I was, again, not impressed. She seemed to enjoy it, though.

Lastly, I ordered the pork with mushrooms, croquettes, and vegetables. A strange choice for me, but not as strange as the crepes I almost ordered. The meat was overcooked and drenched in the same brown gravy, this time with the addition of mushrooms. Carrots and broccoli were the chosen vegetables. The potato croquettes were simply glorified tater tots. I swear, nothing on my plate had any flavor except the carrots.

The only other patrons at the restaurant were as weathered as the castle, which explains the old-fashioned menu and somewhat stodgy atmosphere. I’m sure it is better during the Summer when their patio is open, and perhaps after the consumption of a few alcoholic beverages.

There aren’t many options for eating out in the small town where my family lives in Germany. Within walking distance from Omi’s house, however, is an old house that was renovated years ago as a restaurant.

Ironically, it is her family’s former home, the birthplace of four of my relatives. After many years as a pizza place, the restaurant was recently sold and renamed Salt and Pepper.

They serve a variety of menu choices we would call bar food like nachos, cheese sticks, and chicken wings, and the requisite German “schnitzel”, but also an Austrian specialty called “flammkuchen”. Much like flatbread, it is a very thin crust with toppings including “schmand”, a cross between sour cream and cream cheese that translates literaly to “fat”.

I ordered a Krombacher beer on draft and Mom tried a white wine. There are several options for additional toppings on the flammkuchens. I chose the traditional Alsacian variation with ham and onions while my Mom tried one with ham and mushrooms.

Our large rectangular flammkuchens arrived, the thin crusts singed on the bottom from the stone oven. Toppings were minimal but tasty.

The Germans love to mix drinks that are not meant to be together, like the popular Coke and lemonade drink called a “spezi”. As I was polishing off my beer, I noticed Salt and Pepper offers some specialty drinks, the common mix of beer and Coke called a “radler”, and “weizen”, or wheat beer, mixed with banana or cherry juice. Interesting.

I had to try the weizenkirsch, with cherry. Our server misunderstood and brought one for me and my Mom….a happy mistake as I drank them both! A little fizzy and not too sweet, the drink was awesome. A friend told me they have a similar concoction available at World Market. I’ll let you know if I find it.

Prost!

Road trips provide the perfect excuse for eating total crap, after all, there’s no time for fine dining. LC and I drove to Florida last week, making efficient stops that satisfied the three major travel issues all at once….food, gas, and restroom.

Luckily, I drive a hybrid so the cost of gas is minimal. The first tank got us to Gainesville, Florida. We took an exit that displayed the standard fast food fare….McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Arby’s, Chick-Fil-A…but neither of us were craving their cookie-cutter sandwiches.

That’s when he spotted the Pizza Hut, who’s re-branding has turned the once family friendly neighborhood pizza place into a pizza and wings delivery service. Few of the locations offer inside dining, but the ones that do rely heavily on the buffet. It was 1pm, so we thought it would be a quick alternative to a burger.

There were four or five mostly-eaten pizzas on the buffet, plus two pastas, none of which looked very fresh. I should have known there would not be a pizza with the toppings I would order on a buffet. Our server said it would only take about 8 minutes, so we decided to order a pizza off the menu.

Normally both of us prefer their thin and crispy crust, however, I had an urge for something more substantial. When Pizza Hut first introduced their signature pan pizza, me and my Mom would get a personal pan pizza every time we went to the mall. Supreme. The crust was light on the inside, crispy and greasy on the outside….a real artery clogger.

To keep it simple we ordered a medium supreme pan pizza with the addition of black olives. Service was quick enough, but the pitstop ended up taking 45 minutes nonetheless. The pizza tasted just as I remembered, with minimal tomato sauce, a good scattering of toppings and cheese, melted and browned around the edges of the crust. We both added a good dose of hot pepper flakes and parmasan cheese.

I kept my splurge to only two slices, savoring every greasy bite. LC commented that it didn’t have much taste, but isn’t that the Pizza Hut standard? I sorta enjoy the generic flavor.

We took the leftovers and continued on our way, singing along to classic rock tunes and talking about everything. Sometimes road trips are less about the destination, more about the journey.