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Antica Pizzeria: A Culinary Oasis in a Pizza Desert Posted by L.A. Pizza Maven, June 16, 2009 at 2:00 PM
Antica Pizzeria
13455 Maxella Avenue, Marina del Rey CA 90292 (2nd floor of Marina
Marketplace;
map);
310-577-8182;
anticapizzeria.net As a transplanted a New Yorker living in Los Angeles, I have often suffered pangs of homesickness for the streets of my youth. All I have to do is close my eyes and allow imagination and sense memories to transport me back to the Bronx. One of the most poignant and vivid memories is of eating pizza, usually at either Paradise Pizza (just a few doors down from the palatial Loew's Paradise Theater) or at Burnside Pizza. Both establishments were ordinary, local businesses that produced extraordinary slices. I can clearly visualize a hot, plain slice, perfectly crunchy and chewy, and with a perfect balance of cheese and sauce, all for a mere 25¢.
Longtime Antica Pizzeria pizzaiolo Jose Barrios, who trained under Peppe Miele many years ago and who makes the pizzas most nights. Well, years have passed and, though the price of a slice has risen considerably, so has my degree of pizza sophistication. Having discovered in the '90s the wonders of coal-burning ovens and homemade mozzarella, my early love for this simple and satisfying food has evolved into an obsession. Imagine my excitement and relief when, more than ten years ago, I discovered that I lived just around the bend from Antica Pizzeria, Peppe Miele's Neapolitan outpost in Marina del Rey.
The other night I went back for dinner, alone, so I wouldn't have to share the pizza, and decided to take a few notes, trying to recapture in words and images the transcendent culinary experience I have grown so accustomed to. It was early for dinner so I had no trouble getting my favorite table. From this vantage point, there are no windows to remind me that I'm in the Marina Marketplace mall. All that can be seen is a mural of a Neapolitan street scene and a photograph of Naples' greatest product, Sophia Loren.
I ordered quickly—a gorgonzola salad and Margherita pie with sausage—grabbed a piece of house-baked bread, removed all but the crust (have to cut calories where possible), and dipped it into a dish of piquant, extra virgin olive oil nicely spiced with crushed red pepper and rosemary. The salad of greens, radicchio, walnuts, and cheese chunks was fresh, balanced, and not overly dressed. A light, perfect starter. Then I noticed a slight trembling in my hands. Was it early onset Parkinson's (God forbid) or merely my growing anticipation? Clearly, the latter.
The waiter suddenly appeared and set the pie down in front of me. It was the perfect expression of the Neapolitan ideal as defined by the VPN. A crust made from "00" flour, topped with San Marzano tomatoes (canned). Buffalo mozzarella is available at Antica, but I went with the house-made fior di latte. All topped with basil. The red, green, and white of the classic Margherita pie, with a spicy crumbled sausage sprinkled throughout.
As can be seen in the photographs, a puffy, nicely charred cornicione
encircled the pie. The upskirt shot reveals a well-charred bottom,
courtesy of the wood-fired oven. As is typical of the Neapolitan pie,
there is a liquid build-up in the center due to the "wetter" nature of
bufala mozzarella and fior di latte. I learned years ago that, for my
taste, it is wise to order the pie well-done. The crust, still not
really crisp, is nevertheless, delicious. And if you are quick, you
can fold the slice (as New Yorkers habitually do), gently support the
end with the pinky finger, and bite the tip before any sagging occurs.
Chewy, smoky, and almost sweet somehow, this crust is guaranteed to be
finished off with a dip in the olive oil. No large chunks of crust
left on the plate as is almost always the case in most of California's
pizzerias.
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Copyright© 2005 and following by Antica Pizzeria. |
Miele,
the president of the 
