Guten appetite- in Germany!

In route to Italy, I first landed in Munich and Berlin- both new cities for miss curious! Germany was shocking in so many ways in terms of efficiency, accessibility and style of living (in comparison to Italy). I know not one lick of German, and there was little time to learn key phrases before I left. Life before leaving was like trying to escape bowels of fire while trying to keep my body in one piece. It seems that many Germans speak English and I felt I’ve done my duty as a traveler by learning at least one, albeit somewhat useless, European language. I was also visiting friends who speak German so I felt like I could get a bit lazy. I will say, on one day that a friend was at work and there was a desperate jet-lag inspired need to find a coffee shop which I expected to be on every corner like in Italy, why I expected that I don’t know. Rather, you should expect to find a Bierstube on every corner. Anyways, so like a complete child walking around streets, which I can’t read or pronounce, looking for a coffee shop. So what did I do? I stumbled into an Italian resto and asked the guy, in Italian, where one could find a coffee. He put me in the right direction but also very confused I imagine, that some random foreigner with an American accent is asking him directions. So I guess Italian is not all that useless outside of Italy:)

In Germany, I got to enjoy some dirt cheap beer that you can walk in the streets freely with, fantastic hendel (roast chicken), fresh warm PRETZEL, Bavarian yogurt, falafel + doner and my then obsession: WIENER ART! Okay, so I am pretty childish. I was obsessed with the word “fahrt” and “wiener” which are on signs everywhere in Germany because “Fahrt” means journey, way, via, pathway, etc. And Wiener…I don’t know all I know is that it’s a type of Schnitzel. And it’s not a hot dog- but rather like a veal cutlet. So I tried to take shots of any signs I caught with those words so I could create a “bloggage.” A food I did not enjoy was beef phở bò at a Vietnamese resto. It was not as cheap as in the states (considering the currency) and it was salty, void and empty of ingredients. Jagged thin short slices of chewy beef and cilantro that was just thrown in with some spaghetti noodles. My pals got some sort of coconut milk based curry noodle dish that seemed worthy, but I felt duped and naive to have expected consistency in beef phở in Germany coming from Seattle where phở’ is pretty damn good. Something to note about eating in Europe is that you have to ask for tap water explicitly to avoid getting charged for bottle water. So here I asked for tap water and they brought out water practically in shot glasses. When we asked for more, like 2 seconds later, they said the policy was one per customer. Jerks. I totally am trying to overcome the whole American customer service/entitlement thing since that doesn’t exist anywhere else, but I find it truly rude when people get cheap and stingy providing basic human necessities like water and using the bathroom- especially if you are a paying guest! Arg! Anyway, another thing I noticed in Germany is that they love Italian food. I was boycotting Italian food as long as I could since I knew I was moving there and in Italy the restos mostly serve – you guessed it: Italian. So it was actually pretty hard to avoid Italian food in Germany, but I still managed to get some German/Italian fusion pizza at a sweet place in Berlin. Also worth noting, Germany is famous for it’s white wines- especially Riesling. And I was lucky to find a wine on tap shop that not only had several German whites but also of course Italian reds for like 3 euros a liter! This shop,called Vom Fass, also had several barrels of whiskey on tap straight from the ageing barrel as well as dozens of flavored liquors! Oh man, I wish they had something like this in Italy! (or the U.S. for that matter!)

Enjoy the sights from Monaco and Berliner- baby!

Okay, enough with the wiener shots- here’s some food porn

schnitzel wiener art + frites and a Hefe!

Halben hendel (half roasted chicken) and fresh pretzel +more beer in one of Munich’s many beer gardens (cost? like 6 euros each!)

A night of Mexican food- actually more descent that I expected!

and more beer of course- Dunkel, danke!

Whiskey and wine on tap!

Berliner- baby! 

Pizza- German style with sausage, herbs and mushroom cream

Oh, food trucks you say, America? Well check this out! A fresh fish stand!

11 euro smorgasbord brunch BUFFET!! SCORE, Berlin!

CHEESE!

CREPE! (chocolate pudding in the backdrop!)

Tavolàta- The last of the Ethan Stowell chronicles

If you are a 1st time reader of my musings, consider visiting the following posts before reading on.

http://curiousappetite.wordpress.com/category/ethan-stowell-restaurants/

Well, this is the last Ethan Stowell restaurant I have yet to write about. If I may reiterate, his restaurants are all supposedly “Italian-Inspired” cuisine that I have a lot of carpaccio with. Like each E.S. joint, there is a theme and Tavolàta’s is pasta. According to the website, its name means “to gather around the table.”

No it doesn’t. “Tavolàta” means  ”Tableful.” Seems like an exaggerated translation of a fairly simple concept, I suppose just like your interpretation of Italian pasta.

I was here for Happy Hour, my new rule for trying restaurants the 1st time. You get a taste for what they do and without potential buyers remorse regardless of the results. And I must say, I would recommend Tavolàta for Happy Hour, but nothing more. They select a hefty list of pastas for about $8 and have truly legitimate Italian wines at $5 a glass. But the pastas have some severe quirks that deters me from returning for dinner. As I intensely studied the menu’ waiting for others to arrive, I was confused by some of the pastas. Spaghetti with Chicken Meatballs. How are chicken sausage meatballs Italian?  What is wrong with sticking to the basic cornerstones of Italian Cuisine, and that is a red meat with perhaps some pork (the only acceptable white meat) MEATBALL? So naturally, this is what I ordered

Obviously a generous $8 pasta plate but it was no Spaghetti and Meatballs. 1st of all, this pasta seems more like Bucatini, a very thick stranded pasta that resembles a spaghetti but a true spaghetti should resemble “little cords” usually as uncountable lighter strands. These Bucatini were what I considered “troppo dente”, meaning they were a tad chewy and could have used at least another 2 minutes in a salted water bath. But hey, better than overcooked pasta right? What should have been chewy but ended up mushy were these crispy on the outside chicken sausage meatballs. It seemed like there was a heavy dose of bread crumbs and egg trying to keep it together thus producing a rather bland mealy mush-a-ball. The tomato sauce was thin and flabby. The only thing saving this chewy pasta chicken mush was the generous umami-loaded parmigiana shavings. Such a shame because had this pasta been made with spaghetti al dente, doused with a richer tomato Marinara sauce and juicy herbed meatballs (not made with chicken!), this would have been a classic.

Also ordered was a Gnocchi Alla Romana (pictured) and a spicy Italian sausage Rigatoni.

These Gnocchi alla Romana were scrumptious. I wish I had the brains to have ordered it myself.  But I have a rule to never order the same item as anyone else at my table. This also, was one of the only Italian pasta dishes on the menu’ that didn’t attempt to deviate from its traditional sense. No fancy substitutions or funky experiments, no no, just saucy good rich tomato and gooey crispy mozzarella atop baked fluffy gnocchi, simply no-nonsense goodness as Italian pasta should be.

A wag of the finger goes to the spicy Italian sausage Rigatoni. The sausage was way too spicy, and again the pasta was “troppo dente”. The careless over-spicing created a horrible clash with the wine that would have normally been an amicable pair. I’d like to squash the idea that southern Italian food is picante spicy, its not really. It has slightly more “piquantness” than its Northern members but not mouth-on-fire spice. A good gastronome, like most Italians, knows that too much hot spice ruins a dish, it dominates and detracts from the neighboring flavors and makes a meal slightly uncomfortable and difficult to enjoy with red wine. There is an art to incorporating gusto into Italian sausage and salami, but regrettably not reflected well in this Rigatoni at Tavolàta.

I have to give a tip of the hat to the service. It was a Friday night and these people were short staffed but not short of courtesy and warmth. Plates took a while to arrive, but the bartender made sure our glasses were kept occupied with wine and the time elapsed seemed unnoticeable. They maintained a positive attitude and natural conversation amidst the Friday night pandemonium. At the end, we realized we forgot to order dessert by happy hour’s cutoff, but without even having to ask, our server brought out delicious warm cinnamon Zeppole with a dark (slighly salty) chocolate dipping sauce as if we were still on time. These zeppole were dusted with powdered sugar and fried to perfection. Donuts, zeppole, beignets, whatever you want to call them, are just words for fried sweet delectable dough that I will happily recommend you revel in for dessert.

This is the last review I will write on Ethan Stowell restaurants. Unless he opens a new restaurant, or as Seattle Eater has predicted a new chain of reinvented “fast food”  joints…

http://seattle.eater.com/archives/2011/08/23/restaurateur-ethan-stowell-is-on.php

I will stay firm on my opinion. And that is this guy has a cute idea towards interpreting Italian food, but the proof is in the budino, and the proof is that these restaurants are weak attempts at trying to establish celebrity chef status through a much loved cuisine. Its as if he is trying to be another Tom Douglas.

You say tomato, I say pomodoro.

Bottlehouse: Three (3) words…

I. heart. alot.

I was 1st introduced to Bottlehouse in Madrona by chance for a friend’s birthday gathering. Since then, I have brought a handful of friends here almost as if to vicariously relive their 1st time visit amazement. Bottlehouse is a wine bar that refers to itself as a tasting gallery, as if this were home and the owners decided to delicately decorate it with only the finest selected wines. And by the way, everyone’s invited to dwell and be happy. I was charmed. Not only by the cute little house with grapevines grazing around the patio, but  I was charmed also by Madrona itself. I can’t quite describe its extreme quaintness and how it makes me flutter but if you have ever been to London, one could say that Madrona is a bit reminiscent of Portabello Road.

The owners are genious. Wine is enjoyed here, people are here to be casual and relax, and food is intentionally paired. There is food, however there is a strict boundary that I quite respect. Meaning that there are no small plates, there are no entrees, and there are barely desserts. What they do have are only the best local artsian cheeses and renowned Armandino Batali’s Salumi cured meats as well as staple accoutrements such as meaty castelvetrano olives, fried and sea saltyspanish marcona almonds, cornichons (crunchy crisp swoon!).

For dessert they have a teeny tiny selection of deliciously moist and butterwhipcreamy whoopie pies and fresh churned ice creams.

The one thing I don’t quite understand is that they have High 5 Pies. It’s pretty cliche’ to rag on High 5, but in this case they really have no place at a wine bar like this. Especially since they are pretty mushily non-complex and have little to do with accentuating a pour. However, with still having a limited selection of bites I have to say that this is remarkable and a smart way to remain distinct as a wine and tasting bar. But don’t be fooled, the nibbles they do have are seriously selected. They have a resident cheesemonger, who has delighted my epicurious heart on the few occassions I have dwelled. The cheesemonger makes a pitstop to your table after having decided on a wine in order to inquire a bit about your cheese preferences (soft, pungent, sweet or nutty to name a few). Those attributes are then taken into consideration with regards to what wine you chose. If that weren’t brilliant enough, once the cheese and charcuterie board have arrived you might be so lucky as to get the historical background for one of your selections as I did with the Pyramide Frais Cendre.

This cheese was a soft goat chevre-like coated in ash, and seemingly was in a pyramid/cone shape but the very tip-top seemed to be missing. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed this “minor” detail, but the cheesemonger pointed out that this cheese dated back to Napoleon I. According to historical legend, Napoleon was so spiteful towards all things Egypt after having suffered a defeat, that he chopped off the tip of this pyramid shaped cheese that his chef had developed specially for him during his time away in Egypt. Wow! Who knows if this is true? Even if it isn’t, who cares!

I have to say that Bottlehouse is, a ticket to truly unwind and pamper your senses. It is the one of the 1st establishments in Seattle to offer some of its wines on tap. They even have an BH house branded red.  I enjoy and appreciate the “market” feel and the human factor involved, where its not just some shot in the dark whether or not you’ve chosen food pairings off an inanimate menu. No, someone who knows their stuff has you covered and will talk to you about it as well as delight you with off-beat food knowledge. Many, many kudos. And the real kicker is that they have a happy hour, even on Saturday! Please do yourself a favor and relax here. And take me with you. Cheers!

http://bottlehouseseattle.com/

PAIR

Pair is a little nook in the almost Wedgewood, nearly underrated, neighborhood of Seattle.  It’s perched on a steepish hill with a tender view of a local cemetery.  The inside decor is nicely inviting, with a picnic table-like set-up and a cozy bar area where this dinner was nested.  Pair is trying to be the neighborhood date and foodie joint with an emphasis on a locally sourced, euro-inspired seasonal menu and strategically paired quality wines that the average person would never be able to pronounce.

The house white was an Italian Pinot Grigio and the red was a Montepulciano.  Eh, pretty basic.  I thought it was strange that the house wines were imports, and this joint is claiming to have a bleeding local heart.  I did eventually move up to a menu merlot/cab/syrah wine from Walla Walla that blew my socks off. Talk about delicious! Very fruity spicy and equipped with a thick body. We ordered a cheese plate along with our 3 small plates and the server asked if we wanted the cheese plate before or after the plates. And what a concept! Duh, right? Clean your palate (and surrogate your sweet tooth) with some yummy cheeses and red wine AFTER a ton of complex flavors.  

Sauteed Chard with sliced carrots, raisins and pine nuts.

Nill ingredients of which seem local. Ok, maybe the chard. But last time i checked pine nuts came from china and raisins probably from a box. Sorry im being nit-picky but if you’re gonna call yourself a locally sourced restaurant then make a little more sense. You could have used hazelnuts and cherries and ditched the carrots, actually it was like 2 pieces of sliced carrot that seemed way too robust to be from WA, as our growing season has been lame due to equally LAME temps.  The plate was OK. I could have made it better myself, by adding a lil pepper and cumin and maybe even truffle salt. For a whole lot less than 9 dollars. It was certainly anti-climatic for foodie expectations.

Manila Clams w/ Salumi Guanciale and large cannellini beans.

Ok, so Guanciale is pork cheek and Salumi is the brand that Pair sourced its Guanciale (aka THE Seattle salumeria). I thought this was going to be really unique since Guanciale has a very delicate yet porky smokey bacony melt in your mouth kind of feel. But there were like 3 pieces in the whole thing which seemed more like pancetta than guanciale and the clams were too chewy. The broth was pretty mediocre, it was as if some boxed chicken stock was poured over already boiled clams and then cooked some more. Maybe threw some sage in there to throw the eater off. The only redeeming quality were the beans. They were cooked perfectly and absorbed all the flavors of the Guanciale and Clam juices very nicely.  I liked making a little wrap of Guanciale a bean and a clam. When all nestled together, it made the dish worth while, left to their own devices: boring.

Potato Leek Gratin.  My favorite dish.

But you really can’t screw up a Gratin unless you really burn everything and even toast. Its potatoes baked with olive oil (sometimes butter) gruyere cheese and breadcrumbs, how is that not good? AND with Leeks? Delicious! But also the least seasonal and local of the bunch. Ok, maybe the potatoes were local.  Keyword: WERE,  from last season.  Nevertheless, a potato bake with heavy cream and cheese should never be a seasonally offered (advertised) plate in the summer, even if I am wearing my cable knit sweater at night here in the PNW. It was fantastic though, gruyere very creamy and gooey, breadcrumbs fried baked in the plate’s natural oils and buttery firm yet tender potatoes. NOT atkins friendly by any means.

The highlight of  the night was the 3 cheese plate. It came adorned with julienned dates with walnuts and a tiny tub of (i hope) local honey.

Le Bleu des Basques- A blue veined cows Basque cheese wedge.  It was pretty creamy, bluey, more sweet than spice. Firm and not crumbly. Cream indeed. Paired greatly when dipped with honey and crunched in a walnut.

Caprifeuille- This was a delightful almondy french goat chevre. Pretty firm, a lot of goat chevres crumble and seem too chalky to me, the firmness indicated to me good quality cheesemaking, with attention to moisture details. The cheese also didn’t have that gamey “barty” waft to it most goat cheese have, which also is a check plus for artisanship. I read in Edible Seattle that the gamey, they call “Barty”, aroma is actually pheromones produced by does in the presence of billy goats, a good cheese maker knows to separate the boys and girls for milking season.

Aragonès- A spanish washed rind cow/sheep milk hybrid. It was sooooo good, pretty firm and slicable witha nutty sweet cream sheepy finish.

Verdict: If you live in this neighborhood, you don’t have much choice for fine dining and as long as you don’t mind the view of the cemetery you got your self a descent dinner spot. I wouldn’t recommend coming to this place more than once if you are coming from cooler foodie friendly quarters of this emerald city. Its good that Wedgewood has a nook for good wines and cheeses (that are mostly French) and a good back-up of creative (so called local) small plates that you yourself can then go home and probably make better at home. In your very own, local kitchen.

Emmer and Rye.

Emmer and Rye, ahhhh. A few weeks back I was refused a dining experience due to lack of reservation. I did succeed in getting a table, and miraculously I lived through the icy spine splitting awkwardness of our waitress to tell about it.

Emmer and Eye is a seasonal celebration of the local goodness artful chefs and the Pacific Northwest have to offer, perched on the top of Queen Anne in a cozy 100yr old Victorian home.

Emmer is basically the ancient wheat grain. Like Farro. Which is Spelt. But grown in Washington. Rye is Rye.  Recipes change according to Season. We are now in Spring. So we ordered a bunny. Ill get to that in a sec.

Starters:

These “Farro Fries” basically looked like fish sticks but were made with a farro batter and lightly fried. A tad crunchy on the outside like a crisp fry but saltily buttered texture inside with beads of farro grain to give you some chewage. Then this yogurt sauce that came on top was slightly minty and garlicky. Not too garlicky. I really resent that adj. “garlicky”. But it kinda was.

Oysters. Think lemon spritz mini explosion washed down with a touch of olive oil.

Chunked slices of Pork belly over heirloom beans and Chicory Greens.  The Pork belly looked like slices of pure fat but had a surprisingly meaty punch. The fat was so sweet mesquity that I could swear these pigs grazed on hazelnuts. The texture almost reminded me of Bulgogi beef rib meat, you know the real fatty meaty ribs that melt in your mouth that makes you growl in guilt the morning after for eating 12 of them. The beans? Well we tried to figure out what put the “heirloom” in these beans because they just looked like a mix of pinto and black beans. They probably were but had a better fiber mouth feel. Anything with bacon is a winner. 5 bucks for this locally sourced seasonal happy plate. When i told my So. California based sister about this dish she questioned its seasonality for Fall.  Yep, thats the PNW for you, basically always Fall year round. But if bacon is a Fall food, i’m glad to be in the PNW.

We also got a cheese plate. a Black truffle brie like creme soft gooey cheese. A sharp cabot cheddar from Vermont. Which obviously was not local, and consequently my least favorite cheese, not sharp and a little too hard.  Then a semi hard scotch washed rind white almost cheddar cheese. Smelled like feet, tasted like scotchy nutty cheddery crumbly hard cheese. Yummmm. Then a baby boy blue cheese. Super almost really creamy yet firm, with just a streak of blue (hence the baby) which gave the surrounding a more fresh cream compliment to the aspiring gorgonzola. This plate came centered with an apple cherry conserve and house baked apricot studded whole grain bread. 8 dollars. Take that wolf cooker, Stowell!

These were just apps.

The 1st main: Half Chicken with morel cream, wilted greens and orzette potatoes. They were the happy chickens. They had to be, the skin was so oily and tender yet crispy and the meat moist and beaming with juicy happy flavors. The Morels were perfect, perfect touch of cream, perfect cookature, perfect foraged mushroom earth to compliment the greens and buttery golden tater slice.  I never thought of morels to be so yummy and meaty-like.

Then we ordered the bunny. Actually we ordered the braised rabbit over fresh nettle in-house made pappardelle pasta with carrots and thyme but when the waitress came out she said “here’s your bunny!” Talk about mortified! She said thats what they call it in the kitchen, and apparently thats what they called it on the bill.  It was my 1st time ever eating rabbit and I wasn’t grossed out, it was a very interesting reminder of game and chicken. Shredded and slightly smidgenly juicy. The pasta was interesting, never thought of eating nettle pasta but it tasted like a very grained herbaceous yet almost basilic pasta. Al dente.

DESSERTS! So our waitress was really akward, she maybe warmed up to us after 3 hours, meaning she smiled. is a smirk a smile? She had a real hard time looking at us and i’m pretty sure she cast a spell on us and our bunny. It wasn’t that she gave bad service, I don’t think she was even capable of utilizing any personality except awkward and plain-face stare at a wall while you order.  It was quite the hurdle to get our hands on the dessert menu as a result, but when we did, we let our taste buds play with salted caramel rocky road toasted marshmallow brownie and a mini apple galette with a golf ball of browned butter gelato. I wasn’t a huge fan of the apple tart thing, the crust was good and dense with butter, but the apples were kinda bland. But the brown butter gelato was some story. Flecks of vanilla bean and good burnt butter flavor. Full bodied for just butter and vanilla gelato. But the brownie!!! The caramel was so rich and salty (good) and sweet but tart and dark and of course tasted of butter! Ahhhman it was good! I licked the plate basically! And the hazelnuts were toasted and still super fresh and complemented the fudgey chocolate brownie. The toasted marshmallow was adorable. I spooned it with the brownie caramel and hazelnuts for the best explosion of sweet sour bitter and butter I can put in my memory. Yummy  sticky vanilla chewy goodness. Ahhhh.

So the verdict, with all that food (plus a leek nettle-mint hazelnut soup I left out) plus crisp white wine and a rye manhattan, our bill had us each pay out less than 25bucks. We did make happy hour, but still that was totally worth it and way better than How to Cook a Wolf. The atmosphere was less snooty, more homey, and despite our (new) awkward waitress, the people were pretty nice and unpretentious. I highly recommend this joint. Its some of the best food i’ve had in Seattle yet.

How to Cook a WOLF.

I work in Queen Anne and was hoping to go to Emmer and Rye after work and ended up at Ethan Stowell’s joint, How to Cook a Wolf. Funny name. It was quite cozy in there and is described as “a handsome wood-slatted den that evokes a Le Corbusier-designed wine barrel.”

La Burrata. Amazing. Fresh. Abbastanza Mozzarellaness. The Mozz was so fresh it melted yet felt like it was still being stretched in your mouth. Almost squeeky. The part that puts the Butter in Burrata: Creamy and yet runny in the middle complete with a herby finish. The Frise’ that the Burrata was piled on was quite lemony and lightly oiled. And there was a fig marmalade that was a peppery sweet compliment.

But geez was this place pretentious. The menus changes almost every week and claims to have ïtalian inspired plates”. Let me set something straight, if you were an Italian inspired place, you wouldn’t charge 3 dollars for a piece of bread and some olive oil. That was a little ridiculous as I ordered a piece of the  Burrata Mozzarella for 12. Bread is cheap. Olive oil can be too. I don’t care if its “örganic” most olive oil is organic in Italy or close to it and even if it is a tablespoon of it sure as hell wouldn’t be worth charging for. It’s really irritating how exclusive good eating in America is. So for a candle lit dinner in a Umbrian terrace with live music, a liter of wine, a salumi board (yes, artisanal)  and fresh farm umbrian cheese (and FREE bread) cost me less than 12 euros. For a dinky glass of some standard italian wine, an OK board of salumi (that I SPLIT with a friend) and the PIECE of Burrata (which was also split) we paid 35 dollars each. In this “handsome wood-slatted den that evokes a Le Corbusier-designed wine barrel.” After getting the bill, the only thing that was handsome was the macho-bald-muscle tattoo man-who looked like a butcher fellow making a delicate Frise’ salad.

Pu-lease. Give me a break. Perhaps I should visit a second Stowell establishment before completely making the following assertions but until then I will hold the notion that this place is in it to make a profit off of frilly well presented “plates” that serve more to showcase artistic gastronomy than as a “go-to” for a satisfying gourmet meal. Why is good food in america so compartmentalized and difficult to access? I know its “organic”and “hand-made”but so is most of the food I had in Italy and it was better AND affordable. This creates a huge question. Is our food more expensive because our government only subsidizes crud like corn and soy, therefore restaurants like this have to charge a head and an elbow for quality or is it true eliticism so that these people can walk away with a hefty profit? From my understanding, Italy’s subsidy system isn’t terribly better but the service industry isn’t a quarter profitable like it is in the states. People break their backs for almost nothing in a restaurant and no remarkable tipage. But yet its better. Food at least. Service, a different question. So my answer is, we in America (or the West Coast) pay exorbiant amounts of money for a good dining EXPERIENCE.  Or go to Marie Calender’s for a grilled tuna melt for 8 dollars and GERD (acid reflux).

So if you want a good piece of cheese and a pretentious elite dining experience, Ethan Stowel has indeed figured out how to cook a elaborate wolf.

Serious Pie. Pizza, man.

!

The best pizza I ever had in my life was in Naples, Italy. There is something spectacular about the dough there. Airy, smoky, Fluffy yet lightly dense, a hint sourdough, and the perfect amount of salt with a melt in your mouth finish. They say in Naples that their water is what makes the dough. One time, I actually tried visiting all the Italian specialty shops in Seattle looking for Neapolitan bottled water for a pizza recipe. It is that convincing.

Italy is known for its pizza, especially Naples. And if I know any country, it’s Italy. Not to say i’m an expert but to myself i’m an expert in my own rite.  And this is the exact reason that, ever since I literally cried over how artisan and delicious my Neapolitan pizza experience was, I have shunned America for its pizza mockery.   This however, has changed since a recent visit to Serious Pie in Downtown Seattle. I prepared myself mentally (and physically) for this venture, asking my fellow foodie-ittes what their take on S.P. was, and the second I dropped the name so did the drooling. Multiple people shook me and said “you have to try the wild mushroom and truffled cheese!!” So what did I order? The cherry bomb peppers and fennel sausage. Why would I order the one thing I could bet on being good? How could ANY pizza place screw up a truffled cheese pizza? Remember friend, my goal is a cynical one, and it’s to really see if the restaurant is worth our money.  Luckily, I was in a party of 3 so the truffled cheese was ordered, as well as the buffalo mozz meyer lemon and saracena olive chili pepper pie.

The atmosphere was very chill, almost too sceney for me. Sceney as in exclusive and exclusive as in schmoozy Seattlites or tourists with money. Me? Not so much. I’m way too quirky to fit in with this crowd. Anyways…

The pizza. Taken with an android. Next time, I get the iPhone. Or a real camera.

The dough. amazing. perfectly densed, a tease of sourdough, and rubbed with olive oil. Melt in your mouth dough that would make any celiac want to live on the edge. The cheese? Meh, nothing to write tremendously about. It was fresh mozz that paired quite well with the punchy savory marinara. No mozz will compare to the mozz I had freshly made in a Pugliese dairy farm in Italy. Im sorry. Its the cliche’ truth. But the sausage was quite the spectacle. Not heavy and greasy. A little greasy but just right. Full of spice herb and yes sweet fennel. Great meaty hearty texture that went down quite buttery.  All the texture and spice of the meat paired with the herbacious marinara and the cooling mozz was a perfect protagonist for the dough. This pizza was worth it. Via Tribunali (THE so-called Italian pizza place) is a pretty pathetic overpriced attempt at delivering a serious pie.  Their pizza is authentically Italian, by which I mean the kind of pizza in Italy that is anti-climatic and last resort.

Dessert however was a total waste of 8 dollars.  Cannoli. The shells were STALE, the ricotta was a little watery and worst of all the cannoli were stale. And they tried to cover it up with a mound of powdered sugar and rancid hazelnuts. Tisk tisk, Tom. Stick to pies or make your cannoli shells a little fresher (and bigger, a diameter of my thumb is not a traditional cannoli) and any New Yorker or Sicilian will shame you for life if you served that pathetic lump to them. Regardless of how much of a sweetheart pizzaman you are.

For serious.

Please share any Serious Pie experience you have had!