Takes Two to Know One

Several of my close friends spent the summer in Atlanta. Unfortunately, this meant that I saw them much less frequently than was desired. To my benefit, however, they were able to explore the city on its "off-season" (or at least on my off-season). One striking thing that came out of this exploration was their discovery of Antico Pizza Napoletana. I've been to Antico Pizza for two out of my last three dinners, and decided to combine both visits into one pizza play-by-play.

This past Saturday, my favorite couple and I ambitiously ventured (in a thunderstorm, mind you) to the uncharted territory known as Downtown Atlanta to Antico Pizza. We were feeling brave, so despite the innumerable risks of riding in a lightening-impervious sedan, we headed to the restaurant. My second visit was far less risky, both in safety and cuisine; Saturday's fare had been a winner, so I knew what I was in for.

The reason my friends and I traveled thirty minutes for pizza was because of the uniqueness of the restaurant. The place serves pizza only and does not allow for any modifications to its pies. The main dining room consists of several communal tables and looks and feels as if you're eating in the chef's personal kitchen. The woodfire ovens are on display for the customers, and they're each set to a different temperature so as to preserve the specificity of each recipe.

My friends and I B'ed our O. B. (no relation to the emerging hip hop artist), and found that several corkscrews were floating around to assist in our inebriation. We asked the party next to us to borrow their cork, but after mentioning that he charged a $2 corkage fee, the man who seemed to be the leader of the group replied that it was actually his personal cork (he B'ed his O. C.) without offering to let us borrow it. My friend and I exchanged confused glances and hunted down a waitress with a corkscrew, but not before filling up our plastic cups with water from the communal sink. By now you may have realized that Antico Pizza is quite an interesting establishment, so I was forced to embrace its "charm," which I did (eventually) grow to fancy.

The pies at Antico Pizza are absolutely huge. They come in one size -- large -- and can feed up to four Jewish female adolescents (but perhaps only two homeless men). Over the span of three days (though only on two separate occasions), I sampled three pizzas, all of which had been recommended to me by those in whom I have high culinary trust.

To begin (and possibly to bore you), I had the Margherita D.O.P. with San Marzano tomatoes, bufala, basil and garlic. This was better than your average pizza, but in my opinion, no better than a plain pie from Mariella Pizza on 17th St. and 3rd Ave in Manhattan (coincidentally, it's Oprah's favorite too).

Margherita Pizza

My mediocre margherita was followed by the Lasagna (the name of the pie, not actually lasagna), which consisted of meatball, ricotta, and romano. I found this to be the most savory of the three pizzas, and actually have several slices in my refrigerator (if only I had a little self-restraint, as well...).

Lasagna Pizza

The third pizza was delicious, too; the Verdura pizza with broccoli rabe, mushroom, pomodorini, and garlic. I do, however, prefer "red" pizza to "white" pizza (call me pro-affirmative action), so I would have appreciated some marinara as a base.

Verdura Pizza

The service at the restaurant is quick -- I'd say our meal was twenty-five minutes from the time we were seated until we walked out of the place. On my first visit to Antico Pizza, I photographed and admired the selection of cannolis (a dessert I have a serious crush on), but was feeling a bit too full to make a purchase. I caved tonight, though, and from the looks of it, you should understand why. I went with the cannoli tradizionale. Even my cannoli-averse friend took a bite and enjoyed what she tasted.

Cannoli Tradizionale

I left the restaurant with a bit of a conflicting feeling. When described to me at first, I thought the place sounded traditional and rustic. Then, upon entry, I noticed Antico Pizza's attempt at trendiness via the font on their menus and the scarcity of the lobby decor. And finally, when I was seated and enjoying my pizza, I noticed that my mono-lingual server (not English) was, too, as she licked her fingers clean from her dinner break. To make matters worse, I don't think the servers wore gloves...

All in all, I'd say Antico Pizza was an interesting experience. The pizza is worth coming back for if you can get past the strange ambiance. While I can certainly appreciate an out-of-the box restauranteur, sometimes a girl just needs a little white glove service.

Dine at Antico Pizza Napoletana:
1093 Hemphill Avenue
Atlanta, GA 30318
(404) 724-2333