Pizzaiolo

My relationship with Pizzaiolo has been like any other love affair. She was the hot girl in town, though some derided her beauty as if she were any other blonde. But this is no ordinary blonde. This blonde has a Ph.D., and there's more to her than just her looks. There is substance, lots of it, interesting conversation that leads to all-night passionate discussions. But what really propels the relationship to the next level is those moments of intimacy and comfort, and the ability to let the few flaws of your partner slip by unnoticed, and even find them endearing. Stupid analogy? Maybe. But with Pizzaiolo, it has pretty much been just that. After six visits, I'd say that things are going very well.

If you're an Oakland hipster, and have even a mild interest in food, then you know very well that Pizzaiolo is the cool kid in town. In fact, one of your friends is probably a member of the incompetent waitstaff there: bad attitude, sideswept bangs, a poor command of the difficult art of picking up a plate and bringing it to a table. But they know it doesn't matter: the food is simply too good. I'm suspicious of hipsters and their massive flockings to the thing of the moment, but with Pizzaiolo, they're completely right. On our first visit, everything was almost perfect. We started with a housemade tagliatelle with pork ragu. That alone would have been perfect, the ragu being one of the finest specimens I've ever tasted. But with Pizzaiolo, there's always something to make them stand out: this time, fried breadcrumbs that added a much-welcome crunch. How much does that cost them? 0.0001 cents. How much does it add to the dish? A million bucks. It's these details, not fussy or necessarily creative, but thoughtful and well-executed that make Pizzaiolo stand out for me. That first visit, we had their margherita pizza for seconds. This is the true test for anyone claiming to make real Neapolitan pizza, and Pizzaiolo's measured up more than adequately. It's still behind my old favorite at 2Amys in Washington, DC (a recent trip there confirmed that I didn't just like it because it is a glimmer of hope in a culinary wasteland), but it's a close second. The only two small criticisms were that the crust hadn't been worked enough, and that the tomatoes were just a touch sour. The other course was their fried chicken, something of a legend around here. (Pizzaiolo puts its daily menu online at 5pm (day of) exactly, so when the fried chicken comes up, they tend to get a line out the door.) This is one of the best fried chickens I've ever tasted: they use Hoffman farm chickens, scarce and legendary around here (some people say they're raised by an old woman in her backyard...not true), and the breading is just thick enough and crispy. The breast had been pounded out so it's not dry at any point. The accoutrements (a chick pea ragu with turpips) are irrelevant, but again they push the dish to delicious extremes with a drizzle of chili oil on top of the chicken, adding a warm heat and slight tang to cut through the fat. It's all about the details.

After that great first date, I read up a bit on Pizzaiolo's reviews, which amounted to one big cry of "delicious but inconsistent", so I wanted to go back and make sure our night wasn't just a fluke. On our next visit, we wanted to venture outside the success of the first night's dishes, but the fried chicken was back on the menu, and I insisted. Again, fantastic. We also had gnocchi with oxtail ragu. The gnocchi weren't particularly memorable, and though the ragu was delicious, it wasn't like the one on the first night. We ordered a pizza with speck and fontina. This was a great pizza, though we were a bit disappointed that it was a white pizza (we both insist on tomatoes). We also ended with an olive oil tortino that proved that even the simple desserts at Pizzaiolo are thoughtful and delicious. While I was brought down to earth with that visit, there was something undeniable about Pizzaiolo's mission. Under the trendy nonchalant attitude, there lies a deep desire to make the most delicious, comforting and pure flavors. This food is purely about craftsmanship: I wish that California cuisine was more about that than simply sourcing great ingredients and listing local farms names on your menu (though Pizzaiolo dabbles in that too: the guy is a Chez Panisse alum after all).

Subsequent visits have had some low points, but these are quickly forgotten (really, I can't remember them). What I do remember are the perfectly cooked squid al forno; their quite wonderful chicory Caesar salad; a rich and comforting green garlic sformato bathing in cream and black pepper; more incredible fried chicken; more margheritas; and a perfect dish of hand-torn pasta with beans, sausage and fried rosemary, one of the tastiest things I've eaten in a while. I went back there last night, and ate one the best pizze we've had there: speck, tomato sauce, onions, mozzarella, and some intense wild arugula on top (one of the few times I've actually been awed at the sourcing of ingredients). The only thing about Pizzaiolo that makes me sad is the thought that people in some parts of Italy get to eat like this every day.

I guess that if I'd have to synthesize my philosophy on food, it would be three-pronged: first of all, I am a fundamentalist: I like my food to be prepared with sound cooking fundamentals, seasoned right, to the right consistency, etc.; second, I am a modernist: in fine-dining settings in particular, I want my food to display some form of creativity and innovation; third, I am a purist: I think that some foods have a perfect form and shouldn't be fucked with, like pizza, pasta, pad thai, or whatever else you can think of. I don't meant that there aren't different forms of the perfect pizza, but that significant deviations from these take away from our expectations of the product. Italian food in particular is a field where pure flavors are necessary, as the food carries a message of classicism and tradition that is conveyed in the purity of the execution. It's this third prong that I see in Charlie Hallowell, the chef at Pizzaiolo. He's been to Italy, he knows the apex of Italian flavors, and his goal is to recreate them a truly as possible, or to use them to inspire his own creations.

Last night, I found out that Pizzaiolo had continued their trend of hiring only retarded hostesses. Ours came up to me seconds after she had checked us in as if I'd just walked in the door. She had only about four parties to seat, but was completely flustered and befuddled by the task at hand. However, delicious fresh bread and room temp butter, a Caesar salad, short rib ravioli and that speck pizza later, finished with a Blue Bottle cappuccino, and all the hipsters in the world couldn't make me unhappy. This one comes highly recommended.

Pizzaiolo
5008 Telegraph Ave
Oakland, CA 94609
(510) 652-4888