London, 4 August 2013
Dear Paolo,
Tonight I fell in love at 6:55 and fell into despair at 7:28. For this reversal of fortune I have only you to thank.
I hate you, Paolo Barone.
You may recall that just one week ago you suggested I check out L’Antica Pizzeria in Hampstead. Your recommendation was delivered without urgency or conviction and yet I told myself, “Paolo knows pizza. Even if he is probably not crazy about L’Antica I must go. In London you cannot be too choosy about pizza.”
Seated at the table nearest the oven in back of this charming little pizzeria I was immediately struck by the hands of the young Neapolitan pizzaiolo Antonio Cerrato. When an accomplished baker works the dough he owns it. It’s putty in his hands. With Cerrato it was less a case of his owning the dough as becoming it. As he stretched the dough he spun a high rim that would become what you Italians call the pizza’s cornicione. Cerrato’s raw pizza platforms weren’t so much rimmed as ring-fenced: You could pour stuff into it and not worry about anything spilling out.
The Margherita pizza Cerrato pulled from the wood-fired red igloo was dramatically landscaped. Layers of fior di latte and tomato sauce floated in a molten pool over the charred crust, achieving a structural abandon contained only by the barrier formed by the outsized cornicione. The now rounded rim offered a delectably light, desirably dry balance of resistance and compression with each chew.
In London food people of great stature may reserve their highest praise for pizzerias where the pizza crust is not always baked through. You pry open the charred cornicione and the bready stuff is still moist.
Already I was planning to invite tutta Londra to Hampstead to see L’Antica, meet Antonio and dig into his dry cornicione. In my head I was clearing space for that high-walled Margherita in my Top 10 Pizzas in London list.
Antonio wrote down his email on a small piece of paper, handed it to me and smiled. I blushed. He asked if I could send him some of the photos you see here, as he was leaving for Tenerife on Tuesday. Sure, I said, and then asked when he would be returning. His response turned my stomach in the manner of a half-baked pizza. Antonio had no plans to return to NW3, not ever. His sights were set on New York, which began to explain why he’d had the Chrysler Building, the Statue of Liberty and the words “Have a Dream” tattooed on his right arm.
You’re Italian, Paolo, and I get the whole Italian tragic opera thing: Man and woman fall in love. Woman coughs. Woman dies. Man kills himself. Woman not actually dead. Woman kills herself. But, sorry, I am just not amused by this scenario of your sending me to L’Antica just in nick of time for its pizzaiolo to walk out on me and break my heart. It’s nothing to sing about, Paolo.
Yours,
Daniel
second act.
reader start to read, reader dreams, reader finish to read, reader brutally wakes up, that’s not fun.
Any way I wish all the best to Antonio, hopefully other Antonios are waiting to be discovered in London.
gorgeous post daniel.
You made my day, Emma.
May I suggest you try Homeslice in Covent Garden. More talent there to be discovered. Love their 20 inch half’n’half!
In Bocco Di Lupo Antonio! Follow your dreams!
I tried and liked Homeslice the week of its Covent Garden opening, Angela, and promised I would make it back sooner than later. Thanks for the nudge.
It’s okay, Daniel. The Pizza Pilgrims have opened a restaurant on Dean St and they come pretty close to the Neapolitan style. Antonio is gonna have to contend with Motorino and other insanely good New York pizzerias, so he might have to come back one day. Best of luck to him, though.
Mario – I suspect a baker of Antonio’s talents will find steady work in pizza-crazy New York. Fame, as you know, is another matter. Very excited about trying the bricks-and-mortar version of Pizza Pilgrims.
“I rather prefer to suffer than having never met you” 🙂
The lyric sounds better in the original Italian, Paolo, but I get the point: Britain’s Lord Alfred Tennyson wrote some words to the same effect, more or less, though I don’t think pizza was the love he had in mind when he penned them.
I forgive you, Paolo.
Is L”Antica closing or just losing it’s star dough flipper?
L’Antica is NOT closing, Jeffrey. They’re just, as you say, losing their star flipper.
Dan, I am heartbroken. I read the opening paragraph and was going to set off to Hampstead to do a pizza without cheese (you understand about me and no cheese).
Nevertheless, I await news and reports of the understudy who will replace Antonio.
Siu Fun – I will give the understudy a couple of weeks to settle in and then give it a go. I’ll report back soon after.
thank you very much for this wonderful article. your words made me excited. so humbly thank you again .. you look at large canary with your family or napoli
Daniel – gave it a try last week and was very impressed! Fantastic pizza – perfect crust and well made! Thanks for the recommendation sorry I missed out on booking the 15th! Also do you think you will start adding to the burger map site? The UK seems lightly represented!