Pizza Italia
Why is it that such a seemingly simple culinary form should be so badly abused by those who purport to represent it? An Italian friend of mine recently summed up the source of the problem with the phrase, “Beware of Greeks bearing pizza.” His contention is that there are very few Italians in either the management or the kitchen brigades of South African Italian restaurants. And that it shows in the poor quality of the plates served.<
Such a situation is tragic because when you find a real Italian bearing pizza it is a wondrous thing. At Pizza Italia the wonder stretches beyond very fine pizzas into spinach and ricotta ravioli and, if you know how to play the system, thymeredolent Coniglio St Angelo rabbit stew and meltingly soft Ossobuco Milanese.
Be warned, this is not a posh space. Arcadia is as close as Pretoria gets to down-market flatland. The restaurant itself looks like a takeaway joint and if you so choose it can be. It is an Italian neighbourhood restaurant such as one fi nds in relatively poor neighbourhoods in Italy. The vast majority of tables are on the pavement (which looks onto the car park) and inside the décor is simple to the point of non-existent. There is a Sicilian flag, a bookcase stacked with preserved artichokes and a fridge filled with Peroni.
The laminated official menus offer only pizza and pasta. And damn fine they are too–the Pizza Siciliana is a cracklingly crisp, ancient flat bread with garlic marinated olives and an elegant sufficiency of good quality anchovies. The handmade tortellini is perfectly matched to the intense roasted tomato flavours of the accompanying sauce.
But, as I alluded to earlier, there is a secret system for getting the best out of Pizza Italia. Regulars say that you can always spot a first timer because they are the ones ordering off the menu.
The listed menu items are delicious but if you phone the day before, chef Anna Seri will cook any Southern Italian culinary masterpiece that you care to mention. From aubergine and caper-laden caponata to basil and black pepper-infused tripe, you name it she will do it. If you forget to order ahead, the chef says that it is a good idea to try and arrive on a Tuesday because “that is the day that Toni the barber comes for rabbit stew and I always make extra”. Once you find the secret section of the menu, a lovely pizzeria is magically transformed into the best Italian eatery in town.
There is no winelist to speak of – just a couple of very ordinary by-the-glass offerings – but there is no corkage fee and the chef actively encourages customers to bring their own wine “because I like it when people enjoy my food and spend time on it, and a good bottle of wine helps with long lunches”.
What the venue lacks in décor or salubrious neighbourhood accoutrements it makes up for in the people-watching potential of the clientele. On my last visit fellow diners included a multiaward- winning fine-dining chef, a group of card-playing elderly men, braces stretched tight over bellies that have seen many fine Ravioli dinners, and a table of espresso-drinking North Africans engaging in a heated discussion, the only intelligible phrase of which was “neocolonialism”.
For a person like me with a new baby who decided to howl just as the tortellini arrived, the added advantage of Pizza Italia is that the chef offers to hold the baby while you eat your pasta. It doesn’t get any more real Italian than that.
Average cost of a two-course meal without wine: R80.
BY ANNA TRAPIDO
Address: SHOP 7B, UNIPARK BUILDING,
275 ARCADIA STREET, ARCADIA,
Tel: (012) 344-2677
Food:
Wine list
Ambience:
Service:
Value:
