Pizza the action
Why the Naples ‘pizza police’ are so strict when it comes to toppings
naples on a plate
PIZZA THE ACTION
Forget pineapple and BBQ beef toppings… For an authentic taste of Italy, Pizzafest won’t disappoint
words: matt barker
NEAPOLITANS ARE HARDLY known for their sense of order, nor for being particularly responsive when it comes to the laying down of rules and regulations. This is a place that thrives on its reputation for chaotic bustle; a city where daring to even dawdle slightly while crossing the road can lead to an unfortunate conclusion. And yet locals will patiently queue for hours outside their favourite pizzeria, waiting good-naturedly for a table so they can sit and enjoy Naples’ greatest culinary export. No wonder they even have a festival dedicated to pizza.
For the savoury disc is taken seriously here. So much so that, back in 1984, concerned restaurateurs got together to form the Associazione della Vera Pizza Napolitana. These self-appointed guardians of the dough dish seek to “cultivate the culinary discipline of the Neapolitan pizza, with its requisite preparation, ingredients and manner of cooking… to defend the origin of the authentic pizza and the tradition of the pizza as it began, in Naples”.
A precursor to the Slow Food movement, with its slightly stern manner and set of rigid guidelines, the Associazione is an attempt to reclaim one of the world’s most popular forms of fast food as a fl ag-waver for true regional Italian cuisine; saving a Neapolitan icon from collapsing under the weight of ever-more outlandish toppings and variations on the original cheese-and-tomato template (indeed, the Italian Agricultural Ministry once attempted to enforce a pizza trademark).
To this end, only four varieties are actually recognised: the marinara, or Neapolitana, as it’s often known (made with tomato, garlic, oregano and olive oil); the Margherita (the same, but with mozzarella, basil and no garlic); the ripeno, or calzone (basically a Margherita folded over and sealed by pinching the edges together) and the formaggio e pomodoro (made with grated Parmesan cheese). And that’s it. No spicy salami, no ham and pineapple, no four seasons.
Pizzerias that abide by the Associazione’s rules (see box p.37) are awarded a certification mark, representing membership of what, it has to be said, remains a fairly exclusive club.
Food academics and critics argue long and hard over the absolute origins of the pizza, but few could disagree that, in its modern form, tomato and cheese on dough, it can only be a native of Naples. Any New Yorkers reading this may well choke on their pepperoni slice, but laying claim to authenticity is key here. Celebrating the pizza as something purely Neapolitan, as part of the city’s fabric and make up, as much cultural as culinary, is what matters.
Neapolitan life has always been lived on the streets and pizza, in its earliest form, was a response to the 18th-century city’s mass expansion under the rule of the Bourbons. Food suppliers were struggling to keep up with demand and the urban poor needed a cheap source of nutrition, preferably something that could be eaten by hand, as cutlery, being expensive, remained the preserve of the upper classes.
Using local ingredients, including the still-recently discovered tomato (which arrived from Peru in the 1700s), the fi rst pizzas were sold on the streets by vendors. People soon cottoned on to the fact that this was a food best eaten hot, and began to bypass the vendor and go straight to the source, waiting outside the makeshift bakeries to grab their main (often only) meal of the day straight from the oven.
Pizza quickly became entwined with the everyday life of the city. Naples’ aspiring middle classes, however, still in thrall to classic Gallic cuisine, sniffi ly dismissed the phenomenon as coarse peasant food. It wasn’t until 1899, and the visit to Campania by the Italian royal family, that its national popularity really took off. Queen Margherita, asking to try a local dish, was presented with a pizza cooked by Raffaele Esposito, a chef who ran the Brandi Pizzeria. Esposito balked at the idea of giving the queen a dish topped with garlic, and so opted instead to decorate his offering with a generous supply of mozzarella cheese and basil. Thus the Margherita was born.
A framed letter on the wall of Brandi, from the Royal Household Culinary Service, reveals that the queen “found to be very good” the new dish. The pizzeria was duly granted the offi cial title of Purveyor to the Royal House and the higher echelons of Neapolitan society were alerted to the joys of pizza.
This month the city stages the 11th Pizzafest (7-17 September, see left), a 10-day homage which fi nishes on the eve of the feast of San Gennaro, Naples’ patron saint. The Mostra d’Oltremare exhibition centre, on Piazza Tecchio, will be the hub of things, but a series of events will be spread across the city’s historical centre. Bag a table at one of the high altars of the dough disc – all checked tablecloths, white tiles and fading photographs of Diego Maradona – and enjoy a slice of history. Enjoy, too, the most delicious of ironies. For dutifully order a marinara (or one from the other Associazione-approved quartet) and chances are the waiter will gently nudge you instead towards the house speciality, which could be anything from seafood to spinach and ricotta. It may be the HQ of the pizza police but this, after all, is Naples. And rules are surely made to be broken…
Pizzafest
Spread over 10 evenings (Neapolitans rarely, if ever, eat pizza at lunchtime), Naples’ annual Pizzafest is based at the Mostra d’Oltremare, a large exhibition centre just outside the city centre, where some 50 or so pizzerias gather to sell their wares (over 100,000 pizzas are cooked up over the course of the festival).
While an appreciative public merrily stuff themselves and swig the local lemon liqueur, limoncello, serious-looking men and women with clipboards nibble marinaras, making notes and totting up scores, before bestowing the much-coveted pizza-chef and pizzeria of the year awards.
A series of concerts, featuring traditional Neapolitan cabaret and orchestral performances, are also planned, with plenty of fringe events and pizza-themed programming to tuck into. Pizzafest runs from 7-17 September; www.pizzafest. info
Pizza worth queuing for…
Naples’ best pizzerias attract big crowds, but the wait will have been worth it when you take your first bite
Brandi, Salita S Anna di Palazzo, 1-2
Birthplace of the Margherita. Something of a tourist trap, but worth a pilgrimage.
De’ Figlione, via Giudecca Vecchia, 39
The best spot in the city for deep-fried pizza.
Da Michele, via Cesare Sersale, 1-3
Where famously the menu is made up only of Margherita, marinara and calzone. Small is beautiful.
Pizzeria Port’ Alba, via Port’ Alba, 18
Naples’ oldest pizzeria, which opened in 1830.
Da Pasqualino, Piazza Sanazaro, 77-79
Open until five in the morning – and the spiritual home of the marinara.
Di Matteo, via Tribunali, 94
Where Bill Clinton famously popped in for a slice. If you can’t get a table, there’s a street vendor outside to make good use of.
Pizza like mama used to make
The basic tenets of pizza-making, as decreed by the Associazione della Vera Pizza Napolitana
Dough must be “worked with the hands” or with a mixer approved by the Associazione. Once risen, it must be “shaped with the hands and without a rolling pin or any mechanical means”.
Cooking must “take place on the surface of the oven and not in any pan or container”. The oven must be wood-burning and bell shaped. It must be made of a certain kind of brick with a fl oor of volcanic stone.
“All types of pizza are agreeable to basil leaves.”
“Variations of pizza are recognised if they are informed by the Neapolitan tradition of pizzas and are not in contrast with the rules of gastronomy.”
