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was born in Brooklyn, so that gives me some credibility.
Granted,
I moved when I was 1, but I grew up nearby in an area where
every town had its “pizza place.” College summers
were spent being dragged to friends’ neighborhood
spots so they could prove to me, and each other, that their
local pie was better than everyone else’s. I never
strayed from Vincent’s, my town’s shop; Vincent’s
pies remained tops in my heart.
Then I saw the other side. As I traveled the country for
a trade magazine about the restaurant industry, executives
and publicists from chains large and small
showcased their pizza. I spent a day in Michigan, where a marketing maven gleefully
showed me a machine that allowed restaurant staffs to form pizza crusts without
all that troublesome throwing and spinning. A bonus: No bubbles! I was horrified,
since bubbles are part of pizza’s delight, and the throwing and spinning
improve pizza’s texture. I put on a false smile and kept that grin frozen
as she boasted about the science of toppings: The same exact number of slices
of, say, pepperoni were on every single slice. “Say what?” I wondered.
Isn’t part of the joy of pizza beating your brother to the slice with more
sausage, your spouse to the wedge with less if you’re getting full? The
haphazardousness of the toppings is part of the pizza experience.
A second chain in Michigan showcased a pizza oven through which pies moved on
a belt. Employees popped each pie in one end and it came out the other, perfectly
done. The owner was enchanted. I was perplexed. What about having a seasoned
cook check on each pie? Since when doesn’t a sweaty, grumpy guy stick a
big paddle under each disk and turn it around now and then? Where’s the
soul?
It got worse. In Oklahoma, another chain’s vice president displayed with
pride a list of pizza toppings. Barbecued chicken? I balked. I actually said, “Oh,
where I come from, you’d never find that on a pizza.” Of course,
he made me eat it for lunch. And the Hawaiian, with pineapple and ham. Such an
affront to my sensibilities. In my world, pizza is plain, has sausage and/or
pepperoni slices, or has the works—including the meats plus green peppers,
black olives and anchovies. Even “Meat Lovers” is new-fangled in
my view. Bacon? That’s for breakfast or atop a cheeseburger.
All these chains’ executives boasted that their restaurants used real cheese,
unlike the competitors. I was, and still am, too frightened to look beyond that
statement. Do some chains really top their pizza with artificial cheese?
In Orlando, we have pizzas from both worlds. We are lucky enough to have a slew
of New York-style pizzerias with single-minded pizza cooks who spin dough and
shove pies in the oven and hurl them on the counter afterwards to slice them
up. Some are in grimy spaces, some in attractive dining rooms. Most also offer
Sicilian pizza, which is rectangular and has a thicker dough. Several area restaurants
offer gourmet-style, or Italian-style, pizzas, which are smaller, often cooked
in wood-burning ovens and frequently covered with top-quality ingredients. Chicago-style
is harder to find here. These doughier, deep-dish pizzas often have sauce on
top and fillings in the middle.
And we have the national chains, with the perfectly formed pies, the evenly distributed
toppings and, often, a delivery service. I did not include those in my research.
So who makes the best—and in some cases the best to avoid—pizza in
Orlando? After weeks of downing dough-cheese-sauce combos, I present to you my
findings. I’m sure you’ll disagree. Debate is part of the joy of
loving pizza.
Ratings
HHH = excellent
HH = good
H = awful
GOURMET
Antonio’s Café
611 South Orlando Avenue, Maitland
407-645-5523
antoniosonline.com
Overall: HHH
The crust: Perfect
The sauce: Enticing
The toppings: Authentically Italian
The price: $6.95 (10-inch mozzarella and tomato sauce)
to $16.95 (Rustica, with sausage, pancetta, roasted peppers,
black olives, fresh basil and mozzarella)
Greg Gentile has four Italian restaurants
around town, two of them quite fancy. The most casual
of all is Antonio’s
Café, a bustling neighborhood spot. The tables and
chairs are set within an Italian grocery store, deli and
wine shop, meaning you’ll be staring at imported
olive oils and bottles of Bombay Sapphire (liquor is sold
too) while enjoying foods made with top-quality ingredients.
I’ve never adored the food here the way my acquaintances do. I’m
in love with the atmosphere, but the entrees, while good, have never struck
me as quite as incredible as they should be, given the company’s roster
of top-notch foodstuffs and large pool of culinary talent. That being said,
I’d go weekly for the pizzas.
Antonio’s Café offers seven pies, each at 10 and 14 inches, plus
a build-your-own option that features not only common toppings like pepperoni
but also fresh rosemary and fresh basil. The crust is made from scratch every
day, as is the sauce; fresh basil, garlic, and imported Grana Padano cheese
and olive oil are among the ingredients. Only Grän’de mozzarella
is used, which pizza-chef Ricardo Martinez calls “the best mozzarella
cheese in the market.” Each pie is baked in a wood-burning oven filled
with blazing oak.
The margherita is as good as a pizza in Italy, with tomato sauce, mozzarella
and fresh basil. Yearning for a taste of Tuscany, I also ordered the prosciutto
pizza, which I’ve enjoyed abroad. Antonio’s botched it. In addition
to bits of red onion, tomato sauce and fresh-milk mozzarella, the pie was loaded
with slices of the satiny Italian ham, which was tossed on generously and randomly
with folded pieces intertwined in a jumble all over the pie. The meat was sliced
thickly, though, and was often too tough to chew.
Other pizza options include Quattro, with mushrooms, artichokes, tomato sauce,
basil, pepperonata and mozzarella cheese; Piemontese, with grilled portabello
mushrooms, tomato sauce, fresh tomato slices, fontina and mozzarella; and Pollomatch,
with roasted chicken, barbecue sauce, tomato slices, scallions and fresh mozzarella.
NEW YORK-STYLE
Casa Del-Dio
189 Semoran Boulevard, Fern Park
407-834-4442
Overall: HHH
The crust: Flavorful
The sauce: Exciting
The toppings: Superb
The price: $11 (medium cheese) to $25.95 (large seafood
pizza with sautéed shrimp, clams and scallops, plus
sauce and mozzarella)
More
than any other pizza place, Casa Del-Dio is the one I’ve
heard most about over the years. Locals call it Del-Dio’s
and they say it’s in Casselberry.
(Actually, it’s a block away in Fern Park.) Die-hard
fans of New York-style pizza swear by it. The verdict? They have good reason.
Del-Dio’s clearly gets what matters in a pizza. The crust is thin, almost
crispy on the bottom, with actual flavor. Each pie is hand-formed, with an
irregularly shaped perimeter and an occasional bubble on top. The sauce is
savory, not sweet. And the cheese is as it should be. As a bonus, parmesan
cheese is on every table and the servers bring over oregano, hot pepper flakes
and granulated garlic without being asked. Usually you have to hunt those  shakers
down.
While the cheese pie was a work of beauty, I went wild over the spinach version.
Most places make do with canned spinach, but at Del-Dio’s fresh leaves
are sautéed with garlic to order and placed gently on top of a baked
pie. I can’t begin to tell you how good that is, assuming you enjoy spinach
sautéed with garlic. It adds such freshness.
I should mention that the menu describes the spinach pie as a white pizza made
only with mozzarella and ricotta plus the spinach—not a regular sauce-and-mozzarella
pie with spinach on top. I liked what I was served but you might receive an
entirely different product.
Del-Dio’s breaks its pizzas into traditional round and Sicilian pies
with the typical array of toppings, and specialty pizzas. Besides spinach,
the traditional pies are white (ricotta, mozzarella and garlic), vegetarian
and the Del-Dio Special with pepperoni, mushrooms, green peppers, sausage,
onions, meatballs, garlic and extra cheese. How I yearn to sample that! Three
choices listed as new are eggplant, grilled seasoned chicken and seafood.
We started with the fried calamari. The squid itself was nearly flavorless,
but the tomato dipping sauce was far and away better-tasting than any I’ve
ever had. I could have dipped the paper placemat in that zesty dip and been
satisfied.
Del-Dio’s is a friendly space hidden away in a strip mall undergoing
renovation. Its walls are sunny yellow and a grapey purple. The dining room
has tables and booths. A full menu of pastas and Italian dinners is available.
CHICAGO-STYLE
Brick and Fire Pizza
and Wine Co.
Church Street Station, 116 West Church Street, 407-426-8922
brickandfire.com
Overall: HH
The crust: Too thick
The sauce: Alive
The toppings: Exceptionally varied
The price: $10.25 (traditional 10-inch cheese) to $27.75
(Veneto, with prosciutto, gorgonzola, caramelized onions,
sun-dried figs and wilted arugula)
Brick and Fire has a neat concept. It specializes in two kinds of pizza: Chicago-style
deep-dish pizza in a high-heat brick oven and hand-tossed Italian-style pizza
in a wood-fired oven.
To be fair, let me ’fess up to researching this restaurant at an inappropriate
time. It opened just as I was up against deadline. The only time I could visit
was the night of the grand-opening party. The place had 400 guests that night
and had only expected a quarter of that, so the entire experience was chaotic.
One pizza came out entirely wrong, but that same error will surely never happen
again.
Here’s what I did find: This place has promise: Many of the toppings and appetizers I sampled have
sensational strong flavors. Chef Mark Dollard knows how to cook, and his pizza
toppings reflect that.
My issue is with the crusts. I ordered four pizzas: two Chicago-style, two
hand-tossed. (All pies are available either way, in 10-inch or 16-inch formats.)
When the pizzas arrived, we couldn’t tell which was which. They look
exactly the same. As it turns out, the Chicago-style pies are a bit doughier.
That’s the only difference that’s obvious. Both have toppings on
top, not inside. Both are thick—too thick for hand-tossed, in my opinion—while
the deep-dish was too doughy to be enjoyable. But, the toppings rocked. A “stout” tomato sauce was covered with
fennel sausage, capicola, parma ham, fontina and oregano pesto for the Sicilian,
a one-dish meal. A savory and spicy tomato base was the frame for the grilled
vegetable pizza, with eggplant, zucchini, bell peppers, red onion, feta cheese
and fennel pesto. The Veneto has prosciutto, gorgonzola, caramelized onions,
sun-dried figs and wilted arugula. The barbecued chicken was too sweet but,
as noted earlier, I’ve never liked that kind of pizza. (Our waitress
gave it to us while we waited for the pies we’d ordered.) The four-mushroom
pizza with fontina and parsley pesto is probably fabulous, but during the craziness
ours was prepared with only button mushrooms and mozzarella. I would order
it again because I know Chef Mark can pull it off brilliantly.
The appetizers gave a better indication of what Brick and Fire is capable of.
Calamari was spectacular—tender, fresh-breaded shellfish with a roasted
garlic aioli and stewed tomatoes diavolo, which was packed with flavor. The
house salad was loaded with gorgeous fresh greens, although the roasted garlic
balsamic vinaigrette was too mild. Mussels braised with fennel, chervil and
garlic in a buttery saffron white wine broth had a nice flavor. Entrees include
pasta and Italian-inspired dishes like veal osso bucco and Chianti-braised
lamb shank. The plan is for Brick and Fire to become the in-house restaurant
for a hotel that is being built behind it.
If Chef Mark changes the pizza dough recipes, the restaurant should have no
problem making it that long.
Additional articles along with the remainder of this excerpt
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