Memories of Napoli: Part 1

About half way through my fall trip to Italy, The Mixmaster and I traveled to Napoli (Naples), a small town a few hours away from Rome. We weren't spending much time there, as we were on our way to the Pompeii ruins, but knowing that Napoli has some of the best pizza in Italy, and probably the world, a stop for a pie seemed like an absolute necessity. In Italy, most of the places we went to sold individual pies and not slices; they baked them for you fresh, and often in a wood burning oven. On our first day in Rome, we were amazed to be presented with what would be about the size of a Canadian "small" pizza, per person! But with all the walking, sometimes for 8 hours or more a day, we quickly got used to the increased portions. Italian pizzas are often lighter on the cheese, and it is focalized in the middle of the pie. But one thing that our palates quickly discerned to be the difference between Canadian and Italian pizzas (besides the thin, crispy crust) was the sauce.
Most North American pizzas that I've had, including the fabled New York pizza, seem to use ground tomatoes spiced with herbs for their sauce. The sauces in Italy were tangier, lighter in taste and colour. We soon realized that they were either made from scratch from ripe tomatoes, which don't have the sweet-ish taste of ground tomatoes, or they were made from canned plum tomatoes, pulsed in a blender with herbs. It made a world of a difference.
So, having disembarked from our train, we knew where we wanted to go, Pizzeria Gino Sorbillo (Via dei Tribunali 32, 081-446643), but not how to get there. And the circuitous streets and narrow lanes of Napoli took some getting used to. We finally arrived at our Pizzeria, a little testy with each other, and with our bellies growling. The pizzas at Gino Sorbillo were everything that the guide book said that they might be. There were a multitude of choices, exciting combinations, with prices ranging from 2.50 euros to about 8.00 euros. I had the Pugliese, with capricciosa, pomodoro, mozzarella, olive, prosciutto, funghi, and carciofini for 6 euros. It was as yummy and flavourful (with a smoky taste due to the well cured meats) as my hastily snapped photo suggests.
Oh, and on the walk to your next destination, you might want to pick up some famous fried risotto and cheese balls, at Di Matteo, located on the same street at number 94. They always have a crowd waiting patiently for them, and they are one of the things that Napoli is known for.
So, how does one go from Italian pizza with all it's tastes and textures to Pizza Pizza (note that there's no link...)? In part two of my post, I will detail, with recipes, my attempts at the perfect home pizza (which I made for a recent anniversary with a certain special someone).

Mozzarella di Bufala

After a long sunday of walking around the Colesseo and checking out churches, The Mixmaster and I found ourselves nearing dinnertime with no place to eat. While perched on a ledge at the Colesseo, surrounded by tourists, I peered into one of our guidebooks and found the perfect place. A pizzeria in Testaccio, the same neighbourhood where we partied with hundreds of queer Italians at Gorgeous I Am the night before. We dragged our tired legs and our growling bellies onto the metro system, and made our way to Pizza Remo (44 Piazza Santa Maria Liberatrice).
...Only to find it closed, as many restaurants were, on this, the holy day. By now we were very hungry and my hypoglycemic self was getting a little concerned. Luckily, we found a mercato just around the corner, and decided to shop for a little picnic dinner. We were blown away by the affordable prices, particularly of the cheeses and the wines. The Mixmaster was shocked that chunks of parmigiana half the length of her arm were 1/4 of what they would cost in Toronto. We picked up two bottles of wine, one for about 3 euros, a frizzante (sparkling wine) called Primo Amore by Zonin, some salami and panna (bread) to last a few days, and then, I saw it: mozzarella di bufala. I couldn't wait to get it back to the hotel to try it.
The Campania region of Italy is famous for mozzarella di bufala, or fresh, buffalo mozzarella. These are several theories about the introduction of the water buffalo to the region, and many believe that Arab traders brought them to Italy from the Middle East. Our mozzarella di bufala came refrigerated in a bag with clear-ish fluid. It had a lightly salty taste, and was creamy, and very easy to cut. You could scoop it with a spoon even, and yes, it seemed to be perishable. It was very white, and it melted on the tongue; you barely had to chew it.
We got back to the hotel and made sandwiches of the salty, sliced salami and the mozzarella and we cut some apples. Despite her name, after a glass or two of Primo Amore, The Mixmaster got a little tipsy. Hey, it's just another night in Italy: watching news in a language we didn't understand, resting our tired feet, eating the best salami and mozzarella sandwiches known to humans, and getting drunk on frizzante.

Cornettos, Cornettos, Cornettos!

Well, having already touched on and analyzed the espresso, I thought I'd move onto the other half of the typical Italian breakfast, the cornetto. The word cornetto translates to what we call a croissant, and I'll tell you, I was thrilled to be given the license to eat one or more a day. Cornettos in Italy mostly aren't as light or flaky as some of the better ones I've had at places such as Pain Perdu here in Toronto or in some of the better boulangeries in Montreal, so I suppose less butter is used and the dough and cold butter are folded over into one another less in the process of making it. At good pasticcerias (pastry or cake shops) the variety of cornettos was often astounding. I didn't take any pictures within pasticcerias for fear of looking like a tourist (as if The Mixmaster's backpack and my map didn't give us away), but they often contained long, gleaming glass cases filled with every type of pastry imaginable: little tartlets fill with custard and topped with fresh fruit, these cunning little shell-like things that appeared to be filled with custard, and cakes, cakes, cakes.

On the average day in Rome, The Mixmaster would sleep in a little and take her time getting dressed, while I would shower more quickly and pop down to Squisito for my morning cappuccino. Then I would walk over to the corner of Via Merulana and Via dei Statuto where there was a lovely pasticceria (if I bought our cornettos from there, they were about 30 euro cents cheaper than if I got them from Squisito, and the selection was much better; we paid about 80 euro cents or about 1.50$ per cornetto). I went to the slightly stern woman at the cash, paid for our cornettos, then went and served myself at the counter. They were apricot jam-filled, custard-filled, chocolate-filled wonders, they were topped with apple slices or powdered sugar or chocolate crumbs; I'm getting nostalgic just thinking about it. The Mixmaster and I would eat our lovely pastries on the train to Pompei, or in a piazza as a mid morning snack, or in our hotel room, while we planned our day's excursions.
One little caveat: er, after several days of indulgence in white flour pasta and white flour cornettos, the average health conscious North American might wish that they had packed their psyllium husk along with their Gravol and Pepto Bismol. Apparently I hadn't been thinking! Because I didn't know what sort of help I'd get at the local pharmacia if I went in and said, "Mi scusi signore, vorrei Metamucil, per favore" (excuse me sir, I'd like Metamucil, please)!

Croissants and Alphonsoes does Italy

Well, in two short days, The Mixmaster and I will be leaving for bella Italia! I have about a million things to do before my trip, including figuring out what a "Farfalle con pomodorino fresco, rucola e mozzarella" is, because I'll be eating it, if all goes according to plan, along with two other courses, with bottled water and wine at a "menu fissi" (fixed menu), in Florence. A few things I've learned about Italian dining, and will be careful of in my 9 days there are:

• Espresso bars charge about triple if you sit down. If you're not tired, and just need a quick caffeine fix, getting your espresso at the bar is a better option. Oh, and tipping is a must (where isn't it?).
• Italian restos often tack on hidden charges, often even charging for tap water, and bread baskets. Being smart about the bill and asking if what the cost of everything is is a good idea.
• Always be certain to clarify what size of an item you want. If you want a small slice of pizza, ask for a "piccolo," or you may pay more than you want.

Some things I'm dying to experience are the Trevi fountain in Rome, seeing David's naughty bits, eating a "bagna" boiled beef sandwich in Mercato Centrale in Florence, and going to Naples, the birthplace of the margherita pizza (a pizza with the colours of the Italian flag, for you nationalists out there...). And also sitting in cafes, writing postcards. Maybe going to St Peter's Square, and thumbing my nose at the Pope.
My goal is to record as much of my culinary experiences as I can, and report back. And hopefully, I'll have more to say than "Era squisito!" (That was delicious!).
Hope all of you out there have a lovely week and a half.