Seth Allen Riffs on Wine
by Seth Allen, Winebow
I remember the term “Pizza Wine” being used long before I ever even thought about getting into the wine business, and certainly at least as far back as my college years – in fact, it is such a common expression that until Jonathan asked me to write about the subject, I probably even assumed that the term was meaningful. Now that I’ve thought about it, I’ve decided that the term “Pizza Wine” is probably less meaningful than it is simply mean. “Pizza Wine” demeans both the pizza and the wine, because it inevitably reduces the hedonistic expectations of the meal. “Pizza Wine” implies that anything much more interesting than a simple country wine would be too good for such a pedestrian food. Do we think that pizza is not worthy of a quality wine, or is there something about wine that we think calls for a more “complete” entrée? I suspect that we really don’t appreciate that although pizza may be simple, it may also be profound, and while wine may be profound, it may be at its best when it is simple.
Pizza, whether it is delivered from a wood fired pizza oven, a freezer chest, a delivery truck or a deep dish cast iron pan to the sounds of an NFL game, is still pizza, and despite its multiplicity of forms and frank inconsistencies of quality, the portability of the concept of Pizza has done no harm to the true Platonic form of authentic Naples pizza itself. Pizza in its many incarnations is almost certainly the most ubiquitous food in the United States, and is as universally loved as anything one can think of, despite it all. It is the immediacy of pizza and its consequent familiarity which are probably the source of our collective under-estimation of this culturally significant dish: how can something so affordable, so readily available, and so immediate actually be so good? Well, think about water.
On the other side of the equation, those who are devoted to the concept of authentic Naples pizza are often caught talking about passion, soul, emotion, and other concepts that seem more befitting a house of worship than a restaurant, but such a vocabulary is universal among the ‘masters of the forno’. Are these practitioners simply delusional or is there actually something to the mystical aspect of the process of making pizza? And how does this relate to the other, less noble forms of pizza? And what in the world does this have to do with wine? In an important way, the idea of immediacy plays a role.
Because pizza may theoretically be made from virtually any ingredients one may happen to have in the refrigerator, or even without any ingredients whatsoever as long as one has a valid credit card and an internet connection, when wine is the preferred beverage, it doesn’t seem necessary to plan things too precisely. In the U.S. it is thought appropriate to put just about anything on a pizza, even things that simply make no sense – barbecued chicken, canned artichokes, pineapple slices anyone? With such a standard there is simply no expectation of a thoughtful food and wine matchup. This is one reason why beer and soft drinks are so popular with pizza, and in fact, even in Naples there are many who believe that beer is the best match with authentic pizza. No argument here – a fresh crisp beer is a fine companion even to the finest and most elegant Naples pizza if that is what one craves – but there is also a deeper reality at work.
Whether in Naples, in Greenwich Village, or on Sunnyside Street in Chicago, Master Pizzaioli also value immediacy – but it is an immediacy far removed from the freezer, the microwave oven, or the delivery truck. It is the immediacy of one person, the pizzaiolo, confronting himself and his short list of ingredients, in order to please another person, his customer, in the immediate present and in his immediate presence.
It is, without tongue wedged too far in cheek, the immediacy of the ‘Moment of Creation’, the ‘Living Truth’ of the yeast in the dough, the dough’s unyielding responsiveness to temperature, humidity, the air in the room, and to infinity of otherwise unremarkable artifacts, which forms the pizzaiolo’s reality. It is the vivid freshness of the greens, the tomato, and the mozzarella. It is the expertly restrained hand on the living dough, the deft addition of the toppings, and the recognition that every defect of technique or material will be not only captured but highlighted by the outsized heat of the wood burning oven, which in the space of just over a minute adds its own signature of char and smoke to the pie. It is the collective appreciation that the most important qualities, the perfumes and vivid flavors of the finished pizza will begin to deteriorate within minutes after its removal from the oven. And it is the most sincere hope of the pizzaiolo that this will be deeply appreciated, hedonistically, if not intellectually, by the diner.
The truth of Naples pizza is based in its uncompromised freshness and vitality. The handful of traditional “DOC” pizzas are made entirely from local ingredients, ingredients which together ring harmoniously true. Such a pizza carries its freshness forward with clear but delicate aromatics, the char of the crust, the basil, black pepper, tomato… The true expression comes not from the work of the pizzaiolo, but from what nature has provided. The “processing” of the pizza, and the hand of the pizzaiolo are ideally invisible, or at least no more than neutral. Against this pure canvas any “processed” wine seems out of place. In Naples, the wines most commonly served at pizzerias are local and fresh, whether red, white, or rosato, with a minimum of oak influence, if any. They are as much like the ingredients as possible and expressive of the grape. And they are expressly not “wines of the world”.
Because of demand, some pizzerias don’t mind serving more “sophisticated” wines which command higher prices; wines of more power and structure, and perhaps more complexity. These may be a pleasure to drink, and may even complement authentic pizza perfectly, but the most satisfying experience is likely the most authentic whites, reds, and rosés made from native varietals from zones not too far from Naples. These include Greco, Fiano, and Aglianico from the volcanic soils around Vesuvius, and many other varietals as well. At Spacca Napoli we focus our wine selection from the Region of Campania primarily, but include other Southern Italian regions as well, such as Basilicata, Abruzzo, Calabria, Apulia, and the islands of Sicilia and Sardegna. We go out of our way to highlight wines that feature the grape and its natural perfumes most prominently, leaning away from more international style and processed wines, but we are not dogmatic. Sometimes a wine just makes us happy and we assume it might make the diner happy as well, even an unexpected wine made in a different way. And sometimes we find surprising food and wine matches, such as a fleshy Aglianico with anchovies and oregano, or a slightly tannic rosato with brocollini.
In an ideal world we would also offer super fresh local wine direct from a steel tank, the sort of wine that is served in Naples from the carafe and almost always chilled, whether white or red, but such wines are notoriously difficult to transport without sacrificing freshness, and once bottled, lose the vitality that makes them so appealing in the first place. This is a part of our recognition that even authentic Naples pizza can only be so authentic 5000 miles away, so when reality insists that we compromise, we remember that our goal is to bring the best of ourselves to you, from the cuore and the forno.
Vini Riservi...
by Seth Allen, Winebow
In Naples, the wines most commonly served at pizzerias are local and fresh, whether red, white, or rosato, with a minimum of oak influence, if any. They are as much like the ingredients as possible and expressive of the grape. And they are expressly not "wines of the world".
Because of demand, some pizzerias don‘t mind serving more "sophisticated" wines which command higher prices; wines of more power and structure, and perhaps more complexity. These may be a pleasure to drink, and may even complement authentic pizza perfectly, but the most satisfying experience is likely the most authentic whites, reds, and rosés made from native varietals from zones not too far from Naples. These include Greco, Fiano, and Aglianico from the volcanic soils around Vesuvius, and many other varietals as well. At Spacca Napoli we focus our wine selection from the Region of Campania primarily, but include other Southern Italian regions as well, such as Basilicata, Abruzzo, Calabria, Apulia, and the islands of Sicilia and Sardegna. We go out of our way to highlight wines that feature the grape and its natural perfumes most prominently, leaning away from more international style and processed wines, but we are not dogmatic. Sometimes a wine just makes us happy and we assume it might make the diner happy as well, even an unexpected wine made in a different way. And sometimes we find surprising food and wine matches, such as a fleshy Aglianico with anchovies and oregano, or a slightly tannic rosato with broccoletti.
The wines showcased on this reserve list are expressions of a commitment to history, territory and culture. They are the result of the passion of a farmer/winemaker dedicated to resurrecting nearly extinct grape varietals and bringing to the world expressions of a terroir and culture of 1000 years ago. Some of these wines have reputations that are mythical and legendary. I had the good fortune to enjoy these wines on my travels to Italy and I returned home committed to searching for them and offering them to you my customers.
Pizza as Self Expression
by John Arena, Metro Pizza
Blog post courtesy of Pizza Quest with Peter Reinhart
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about three inspirational pizza makers. At the risk of sounding blasphemous, I often call them the Father, Son and Holy Spirit of pizza. They are three men who couldn’t be more different in their contributions to the world of pizza, but together create, represent, and inspire all that we should be in our quest to serve pizza that is both delicious and meaningful.
In the beginning, there was Anthony Mangieri, or at least someone very much like him. I’m not talking about some dubious pizza pedigree that goes back to 19th century Naples. What Anthony does is more rooted in ancient Rome or perhaps even Egypt. Walk the ruins of Pompeii and you will see bread ovens and marble work tables that could have been the prototype for Anthony’s pizzeria. This is food at its most elemental, 3 or 4 simple ingredients, natural leavening, fire, and the hands of a gifted and uncompromising artist who serves as a conduit between nature and man. Anthony’s pizza is as primal as it gets. Take away the mozzarella and tomatoes, add some garum and it is possible that Mangieri’s ancestors were baking these pies for hungry citizens on the day that Pompeii was buried. You won’t find a diploma or certificate of authenticity in Anthony Mangieri’s pizzeria. What he is doing with pizza pre-dates those organizations by thousands of years. Certainly there have been many innovations and additions to our craft, but everything leads back to the original elements, and no one is more dedicated or consumed by this than Anthony Mangieri. With Anthony, you either get it or you don’t. There is no place to hide, and where you stand when you experience his pizza reveals everything about you. The latest incarnation of his Una Pizza Napoletana can be found in San Francisco (much easier to get to than Pompeii).
If you don’t believe in miracles I suggest a visit to a quiet corner in the Ravenswood neighborhood of Chicago. There you will find Spacca Napoli, a piece of Naples somehow transported to the Windy City. More importantly, you will find Jonathan Goldsmith. If Anthony Mangieri represents what came before, clearly Jonathon exemplifies the heart of what the Italian pizza experience has become. Genetically, Jonathan is not an Italian pizza maker. He did not discover his true nature and calling until adulthood. Yet, he embodies everything that a pizzaiolo should be. Dedicated and knowledgeable, a gracious host, a generous teacher, and a self sacrificing steward to his staff and community. Jonathon had the belief and resolve to bring his message of authentic Neapolitan pizza to a city with a long standing pizza tradition of its own. He has been embraced by thousands of loyal supporters, including expatriate Italians who find Spacca to be a comforting reminder of home. His pizza and his beautiful restaurant continue to evolve, but always reflect a simple message, that a neighborhood pizzeria can be a place where people gather to restore both body and soul. In short Jon is the pizza maker that I wish I had both the talent and courage to be.
What would a religious metaphor be without a journey into the desert? As every pizza enthusiast knows, Chris Bianco is at the forefront of America’s pizza renaissance. It’s important to examine how he lit the flame of inspiration for so many pizza makers to begin their own journey. What Chris Bianco does in his Phoenix pizzeria is not constricted by rigid interpretations of tradition or the guidelines of self appointed governing bodies. He has instead chosen to represent the spirit of pizza making and finds it not in the details, but in the ideal.
Although clearly informed by tradition, at Pizzeria Bianco he is not recreating or replicating anything. He is following his own inner voice. While for Anthony or Jonathon, true pizza can only be expressed by using the ingredients, methods and equipment of Campangnia, Chris has in some ways moved beyond that idea. In his view, to honor those who came before you must seek what they sought. Rather than import ingredients, he does what an Italian pizza maker would do, build a relationship with local artisan producers. If the Neapolitans are using indigenous ingredients then the spirit of his pizza is to do the same. Arizona grown pistachios anyone?
In my opinion there is something even more important about what he does. Chris has told me that he sees his pizzeria as a place that can serve as an inspiration to his guests, a place that is completely dedicated to one small thing and it can, possibly, hopefully, inspire people to bring that commitment to their own lives. He stated that people come to Pizzeria Bianco “armed” with their own expectations of what a pizza should be. It is his mission to disarm them and by extension, “Perhaps disarm the world”. Wow! A pretty serious goal from a guy who humbly describes himself as “Just a pizza man”
And there you have it, if not the alpha and omega of pizza, certainly a trinity of pizza makers who together represent all that we could and should be if we are serious about our craft. Let me know if you can think of others who have turned pizza into an act of creative self-expression.
Does Practice Really Make Perfect?
by John Arena, Metro Pizza
Lately I’ve been thinking about pizza and the industrial revolution. Ok, I know we think of pizza making as a craft or even an art form, but let’s face it; before the recent artisan pizza renaissance the state of pizza was in pretty sorry shape. So how did something that was an expression of individuality in the hands of a great pizza maker like Antonio Pero (founder of Totonno’s) become a mass produced commodity, and more importantly how do we prevent that from happening again?
Well, I think the answer lies in practice, or more specifically, understanding the difference between practice and repetition. From early childhood we are told that "practice makes perfect". We are led to believe that by repeating an action over and over again we will improve and eventually perfect a particular skill. The entire industrial revolution was based on the idea that the development of artisanal skill was inefficient. The idea was that the creation of any product could be reduced to a series of motions, performed on an assembly line by workers who learned and repeated only one step in the process, thus maximizing speed and reducing the need for highly skilled --and well paid-- craftsmen.
The result, in regard to pizza, was what I think of as the tyranny of consistency. We began to see uniformity as a virtue. We reached a point where we valued consistency over the occasional stroke of brilliance. The extension of this idea is that by simply repeating an action, such as assembling a pizza, anyone could become an expert. Heck, we even developed contests to crown people who could do it the fastest or in the most uniform manner. Well, guess what? None of those “champions” are going to be remembered 50 years from now. Antonio Pero never won a pizza making contest in his life. Dominic Demarco, of DiFara Pizzeria (Brooklyn) is not the most consistent pizza maker in the world. Frank Pepe didn’t have a certificate of authenticity hanging by his oven.
I’m sure there are lots of pizza makers who have made more pizzas than these men, but here’s the truth; PRACTICE DOES NOT MAKE PERFECT! Perfect practice makes perfect. By perfect practice I mean understanding that repetition is not enough. We all know people who have been making pizza for years and are stuck in a rut. We also know artisans like Jonathan Goldsmith of Spaccanapoli (Chicago) who are relative newcomers and are creating inspired pies. The great ones understand that practice is a combination of repetition and single minded focus on improvement every time you create a pizza. They know that to truly grow as a pizzaiolo every pizza that you make should be in some ways different from the last because it is an expression of all that you have experienced up to that precise moment. They also understand that the constant and unflinching quest for improvement means that they will also have to allow themselves the occasional failure or misstep.
It is this conscious struggle that moves us all forward on our various pizza quests. In the end, you may find that the journey was at least as interesting as the destination. At the very least, I think you will discover that consistency is an overrated virtue when it stifles the passion that can occasionally produce a rare moment of perfection.
