A Look at Naples, Struggling and in a Funk

Not really pizza-related, per se, but if you care about the town where pizza as we know it was born—and that would be Naples, Italy—then this story from the New York Times is worth reading.

Not really pizza-related, per se, but if you care about the town where pizza as we know it was born—and that would be Naples, Italy—then this story from the New York Times is worth reading.
A group of 30 pizzaioli says some opportunist rivals are using the recent spike in food and fuel prices to gouge pizza eaters: "The group staged the protest in Piazza Dante to demand stricter price controls to defend the reputation of a traditional Neapolitan product which they said should be 'the synthesis of quality and low cost.'"
Pizza Margherita will now be recognized as a "regional specialty" in Naples by the European Union under its official name, the Pizza Napoletana. This means anyone claiming to sell a Pizza Napoletana must now adhere to the rules of what constitutes a Pizza Napoletana, as conceived by the Associazione Vera Pizza Napoletana (the True Neapolitan Pizza Association):
Legend has it that the Margherita was created in 1889 at Pizzeria Brandi, in honor of the queen of Italy, Margherita of Savoy. Since its inception, it's gone through a myriad of changes and creative twists by pizzerias all around the world, like a tomato-less bianca version. However, the Associazione has threatened to sue restaurants in Europe if they advertise the Pizza Napoletana but aren't complying to the rules: "We are protecting one of the most ancient and most important gastronomic traditions," VPN director Antonio Pace said. "We don't want the others not to make pizza, but we want them to make it as we make it—as it should be done."
As you may or may not know, there's a lot of hoo-hah going on about garbage in and around Naples, Italy. The city's dumps were declared full and shut down late last year, and trash was allowed to pile up in the streets, spurring illegal dumping on the outskirts of town. What's this have to do with food, and more specifically, pizza? Well, it's outside of Naples where that prized pizza ingredient, buffalo mozzarella, is made. And now, dioxin, possibly from toxic trash, has been found in some shipments of the cheese. This new story picks up where an earlier one left off, detailing the Italians' efforts to fight the scare, and it notes that South Korea has now banned imports of the cheese. (Japan has followed suit as well.) Even some Italian pizzerias are starting to switch to cow's milk mozzarella (buffalo mozzarella is, of course, made from the milk of the water buffalo).
My friend and former editor, the brilliant Sam Sifton, developed the Pizza Cognition Theory, which postulates that the first pizza a person eats becomes the standard by which that person judges all pizza he or she subsequently eats.
According to Sam, "The first slice of pizza a child sees and tastes (and somehow appreciates on something more than a childlike, mmmgoood, thanks-mom level), becomes, for him, pizza. He relegates all subsequent slices, if they are different in some manner from that first triangle of dough and cheese and tomato and oil and herbs and spices, to a status that we can characterize as not pizza."
So by Sam's theory, if Pizza Hut was the pizza you first ate, every other pizza you subsequently ate would pale by comparison, because it wouldn't be Pizza Hut pizza. Sam is a smart fellow, but I believe that people ultimately understand that circumstances beyond their control dictated their initial pizza-eating experiences and preferences, namely where they lived and where their parents took them for pie. Furthermore, I believe that pizza discernment can be learned once we move away from home.
Slice is happy to bring you another excerpt from Ed Levine's book Pizza: A Slice of Heaven. This time, Ed's trip to Naples. Be sure to click past the jump for a list of some of Napoli'sand Rome'sbest pizzerias.
The pizza police, dedicated to the proposition that authenticity is everything, tell us that you cannot judge or taste pizza properly without having eaten it in Naples. Pizza wasn't invented in Naples (there have been flatbreads with toppings for thousands of years), but it is the place where pizza became popular, and where this perfect, simple food burrowed itself deep into the consciousness of Neapolitans of every class and neighborhood. Naples, they say, is where the modern pizza-eating rituals first flowered.
In 1830, the world's first pizzeria, Antica Pizzeria Port'Alba, opened its doors in Naples, and an industry was born. Antica Pizzeria Port'Alba is still in business, by the way. Fifty-nine years later, a pizzaiolo named Raffaele Esposito was invited to the Italian royal palace to make three pizzas for the visit of King Umberto and Queen Margherita of Savoy. The queen was apparently no dummy when it came to politics, so she declared her favorite pizza to be the one with the colors of the Italian flag: red (tomato), white (mozzarella cheese), and green (basil). Thus, Pizza Margherita was born.
Right around the time Esposito came up with the Margherita, Italians started coming to America by the millions, driven by the prospect of improving their standard of living. According to author Pamela Sheldon Johns, five million Italians made their way to America by the turn of the twentieth century, 80 percent of them from the south of Italy. Thus it was almost inevitable that a Neapolitan immigrant named Gennaro Lombardi would open the first pizzeria in Americaon Spring Street in lower Manhattan in 1905.
Every food writer and historian worth his or her pizza crust has made the pilgrimage to Naples to taste pizza at the source. When I went, I was armed with clippings from many of the illustrious "foodies" who had gone before meDavid Downie, Alan Richman, and Jeff Steingarten . To bolster my credibility and to guide me through that stunningly beautiful city, I persuaded Maurizio DeRosa to come with me. Maurizio is a Neapolitan native and the former owner (along with his mother and brother) of the now-defunct DeRosa, the only Neapolitan restaurant ever given three stars by Ruth Reichl during her stint as restaurant critic for the New York Times. We stayed at his mother's in the Vomero section of Naples, and set out to eat at the fifteen best pizzerias in the city. I actually would have gone to more, but Maurizio assured me that fifteen pizzerias in five days would be his limit. What did we find? Well, I hope Maurizio doesn't banish me from Italy for saying this, but what I found is that the Neapolitan culture of pizza is in many ways more interesting than the pizza itself.
PHOTOGRAPHS BY ROBERT SIETSEMA .::.
A couple days ago, Robert Sietsema offered to let Slice post some of his photos from his recent trip to Naples. Before you take a gander, though, I'd recommend that you go read his account on the Village Voice site. It'll help put the photos in context.
OK. have you read Mr. Sietsema's column yet? Good. Now here are the pix. Be sure to click on them for larger versions, and click through the jump. There's more!
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Naples street scene. Photograph by Robert Sietsema
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Da Michele exterior. Photograph by Robert Sietsema
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Da Michele interior. Photograph by Robert Sietsema
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Da Michele pies. Margherita, foreground; Marinara, background. Photograph by Robert Sietsema
Robert Sietsema visits Naples, making stops at the legendary Da Michele as well as nearby pizzeria Trianon. Regarding Da Michele:
The menu is limited to a pair of amazing pies. Most modern is the margherita (4 euros)óinvented in 1885 on the occasion of a visit from Queen Margherita of Savoia, probably the first pizza to feature cheese, which joins sieved canned tomatoes, a generous pouring of olive oil from an antique pitcher, a basil leaf or two, and sea salt on the surface of the pie. The older of the pies, called marinara (3.5 euros), has its origins in Mediterranean antiquity, an irregular round of hand-patted dough with tomatoes, raw garlic, andóoddly, I thoughtódried oregano, making it seem almost Greek. The dough rises with a decades-old starter, rather than commercial yeast, baking up as soft and pliable as glove leather. You certainly can't pick it up like a New York slice. The overall effect of both pies is a sublime blandness.
"Sublime blandness" may be the most befuddling compliment(?) paid to a pizzeria I've ever seen.
Humble Pie: New Yorker discovers the true pizza of Naples [Village Voice]
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