Neapolitan pizza pleases purists

There are many, many, many styles of pizza -- thin, medium, thick or deep-dish crust, hand-tossed or rolled out; red, white or pink sauce with the spices cooked in or added separately; with "traditional" or specialty toppings.

And even in this small-to-medium market, for each style, you'll find pizzerias to match.

If you're a pizza purist, however, you hanker for the true Neapolitan style. In its purest form (as defined by the official-certifying Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana), that requires that the dough for the crust be kneaded and formed by hand and made with only four ingredients -- flour, fresh (not dry) yeast, water and salt -- with all-fresh ingredients on top -- tomatoes, mozzarella cheese and extra-virgin olive oil -- and baked on the stone floor of a wood-fired oven at a minimum of 800 degrees Fahrenheit.

Until recently, that kind of pizza has been pretty hard to find around here. Bruno's Little Italy (with the exception of its two "dark periods," 1987-88 and 2010-12) has always come closest -- the thin crust has always had just those four ingredients; the sauce has always consisted of nothing but tomatoes and water with the spices spread over the pizza after it's been topped but before it went into the oven.

Now welcome the one pizza that comes even closer than that, at The Pizzeria @ Terry's Finer Foods in Little Rock's Pulaski Heights, where it will be competing on the high end of the pizza spectrum with ZaZa, on the medium end with Damgoode Pies and U.S. Pizza, and on the sort-of-medium end with a Papa John's outlet that's directly across the street.

It's in the southeast side of the grocery-store-centered establishment that previously housed the Restaurant at Terry's and before that Sue's Pie Shop. (The restaurant several months ago moved to the building's northwest side, and a new pie shop has since opened in the grocery store. The more things change ... .)

It's the brick-and-mortar incarnation of the former Pizzeria Santa Lucia mobile pizza oven. Co-owners Jeremy and Jacquelyn Pittman went to Naples, Italy, to buy and ship (by actual ship) an authentic, wood-burning, 1,000-degree Mario Acunto pizza oven.

It's taken them a little time to adjust their techniques and their staffing needs, but they've now gotten this Neapolitan pizza thing down pat, putting out near-perfect artisan, gourmet pies guaranteed to please the pickiest of pizza patrons.

The Pittmans have made the most of the narrow space by setting up seating in a couple of booths, a couple of long tables with sawhorse-bottom benches, a couple of small two-top tables and seating on more sawhorse-bottom benches with table extensions along the lengthy bar. The northeast wall, with the exception of the large Terry's French-laborer "logo," is covered floor to ceiling with shelving, much of it devoted to the bar, the rest to cans of tomatoes and other pizza supplies and accessories.

The bar features eight regularly changing brews on tap (the waitress will provide a list), including one from local brewery Stone's Throw. Lighting is a little dim, which contributes to the atmosphere but doesn't help if you're trying to take flashless selfies with your pizza. Service was universally friendly and helpful.

The pizzeria serves one pie size -- 10 inches. That's pretty standard for the style; much bigger and you can't properly judge the baking time.

Hand-shaping pizza dough is an art, not a science, and even accomplished pizza makers don't always turn them out perfectly round every time. So don't pitch a fit if one shows up on your table slightly ovoid or a bit misshapen.

Putting three people on the pizza line, one of whom does nothing but knead and shape the dough, has sped up the preparation process remarkably; except at peak periods, you can now count on about eight to 10 minutes per pie between order and table delivery.

All the pies are made with fresh mozzarella and extra-virgin olive oil (on some menus, though, to the Pittmans' credit, not this one, you'll see it abbreviated as EVOO). The Italian and chorizo sausage are made in-house by somebody identified on the menu as "Nathan." Because the pizza makers apply the mozzarella in cubes and not as slices, it melts on the pie where it pleases, so just because you can't see all the toppings doesn't mean the pizza makers have skimped on them; some of them are on top of the cheese and some under.

The menu is limited -- a baker's dozen specialty pizzas, ranging from simple (you can't get any simpler than the Bonta Toscana Marinara, $9, a crust topped with a garlic sauce made from locally grown tomatoes, fresh basil and oregano) to the somewhat complex (the Quattro Stagioni, or Four Seasons pie, $14, divided into four parts, topped severally with artichoke, mushrooms, olives and prosciutto).

A couple of the specialty pies were just a little too weird -- for example, the Tuna Alfredo ($15), topped with a cream garlic sauce, oregano, tuna, lemon and parsley, and particularly the Kale Onion Potato ($15), with caramelized onions, potatoes and kale, plus feta, prosciutto and cotto salami. A make-your-own option has as its base the $10 cheese pizza and a choice of 15 toppings ($1 per, four maximum), some of which might seem a little odd: "Farm fresh egg," for example.

We reveled, however, in our tangy Four Cheese and Tomato ($14) -- the other three cheeses are Gorgonzola, parmesan and goat cheese -- and in our Pop Supreme ($15), with Nathan's House Made Italian Sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms and onions; and, presuming from the menu words "saucey" and "cheesy," perhaps a little extra of both.

The pizzeria is now peddling pies to go, but this pizza style in general and this place's pizza in particular really need to be eaten hot out of the oven. The crust gets softer the longer it sits, nor does it hold its heat very long. So it neither travels nor reheats particularly well. (A $12 to-go pepperoni pie, even though it was only eight minutes in a box via car from oven to table, lost some of its firmness and most of its heat -- not that it wasn't delicious even cold and a little flabby, but ...).

Pittman says that for this reason -- because very few if any customers will be able to guarantee that they'll be on the spot exactly when the pizza comes out of the oven -- he does not, and may never, take to-go orders over the phone.

If you're afraid a 10-inch pie won't fill you up, the pizzeria also has a limited appetizer menu.

We can certainly recommend the meal-size-and-priced Oven Fired Camembert ($14), an artisan, brand-named (Old Chatham Hudson Valley, if you must know) wheel of the semisoft French cheese, oven-baked into delicious runny-ness with white wine and herbs and served with fresh spreader baguette slices. Big enough to serve two, it's very filling, and we ended up having to take pizza slices home.

The Olives and Sweet Hots ($4) are more of a true appetizer, a selection of sweet and hot pickles and peppers and a variety of olives. And if you feel the need for something green that doesn't go on top of a pizza, try the Classic Caesar Salad ($6 small, $9 large), billed as iceberg lettuce, though ours was properly made with Romaine, lightly coated with an authentic Caesar dressing and a sprinkling of grated Parmigiano-Reggiano and topped with some serviceable croutons.

Weekend on 12/04/2014