A Quartet of Devilish Pizzas
In which I sample different styles of local pizzas diávolas that challenge the traditional Argentine aversion to spiciness.
I’ve been asked more than once why I include so many posts about pizza. Sometimes it seems like I’m trying more pizzas or adjuncts (fugazzeta rellena recently) than other foods. I’m no Adam Kuban, but I’m not slouching on my pizza duties either.
First and foremost… it’s pizza. Does it really need any more justification than… it’s pizza.
Second, I’m not sure those who don’t live here realize just how ubiquitous pizza is as an Argentine staple. I know, I know, NYC! But here’s the thing. New York City has, at last official count, 1,813 licensed pizzerias. In a city of 8.3 million people. That’s around one pizzeria for every 4500 or so residents. Buenos Aires has 3,200 licensed pizzerias. In a city of 3.1 million people. That’s around one pizzeria for every 970 people. Now, admittedly, this doesn’t approach the world capital of pizza, Naples, Italy, where there are approximately 8,200 pizzerias in a city of 963,000, or roughly one for ever 120 people. At the same time, there’s pizza everywhere - and the numbers above are just official pizzerias… virtually every casual Argentine restaurant offers at least one or two types of pizza on their menu as well.
But back to… it’s pizza. Let’s look at four that I took on recently.
While the common Argentine approach to a spicier pizza is the Calabresa, at its most classic a simple tomato sauce and mozzarella pizza with moderately spicy longaniza sausage and, often, roasted bell peppers. But variations abound, and, in general, it’s my favorite style of pizza to order here. To date, the best of those that I’ve found is the one offered up at El Globito in Parque Patricios…
…which is topped with a zesty tomato sauce, a mass of good mozzarella, spicy sausage, pickled Italian frying peppers, and provençal (chopped garlic and parsley), crowned by a green olive.
But there’s a less common, and often (though not always) spicier, pizza that more and more pizzerias are offering, as Argentine taste-buds open themselves up to things like hot sauces and chilies. The diávola doesn’t have a set definition, it’s just supposed to be… spicy. There are different approaches to this. They can be topped with fresh chilies of one sort or another, hot sauce of some sort, using a really spicy sausage, usually ‘nduja, and, what is probably the most common approach, and sort of the hot ticket around the world these days - “hot honey”, i.e., honey that’s infused with chilies.
There used to be a strip near a back corner of the Recoleta Cemetery that was home to a trio of short-lived craft brew bars. Brew Republic is now a branch of the gourmet food shop Valenti, Back in Black is now a mini-supermarket, and Drafters, later Crafters, has become Radiante, Vicente López 2205, a pizza and vermouth bar.
The middle photo is Maxi. He’s the canine companion of one of the owners and keeps watch over the proceedings. And chews up plastic bottles with abandon.
I do love olives, but perhaps that plate of them to accompany my vermouth and soda contained a few too many for one person. But I guess since they’re charging for them, 3000 pesos, it’s better too many than too few. I’d been informed that the kitchen wasn’t yet open, so there’d be a delay on the pizza. Which turned out to be a very short delay of ten minutes, not the thirty proffered. I ordered their q’ lo pario pizza, which is a slang way of saying… “that’s f*king spicy”. (13600 pesos/us$12)
Promised with sausage, tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella, basil, and two sauce toppings - criolla, which is basically finely diced bell peppers and onions; and chili sauce. The latter was not to be found. I inquired. The waitress looked at the pie quizzically and then headed back to the kitchen, returning shortly with a bowl of dried chili flakes and an apology. The kitchen had run out of fresh chilies to make their sauce with, and just kind of hoped no one would notice. Come on. It’s the only spicy pizza on the menu. If someone orders it, they’re ordering it for that reason, of course they’re going to notice. The flakes didn’t do much. An owner got involved, more apologies, a second drink, free. A promise that next time there would be chilies. And on its own, picante or not, it was a very good pizza. Great crust, great tomato sauce, and good toppings. A little more cheese might be in order.
And so, revisited. The pizza wasn’t all that different - my assessment would stay the same. Unfortunately their hot sauce, sorry to say, their idea of hot, like so many Argentines’ view, wouldn’t make a cocktail sauce jealous. I could sense there was some chili heat there, but so little of it it was irrelevant. Still a very good pizza, but not worth ordering for the picante. Still, given it’s location close to home, this will be a regular spot to visit, though I’ll probably order other, different pies.
One of my Italo-phile friends gave me a top recommendation for Napule, José A. Terry 300, Caballito. Dutifully, I headed out that way to sample their wares. I had a feeling I was in for a great pizza - the person who recommended it knows their stuff, and the Google reviews could be broken up into two categories - Argentines who opined that it wasn’t that great - the pizzas had too much sauce, the crust too thin, not enough cheese, the flavorings too intense; and non-Argentines who swooned over it for being an authentic pizza with great seasoning, a decent amount of zesty sauce, and a judicious amount of cheese.
I decided to nibble while awaiting the pizza. Plus, I can’t resist a plate of Olives all’Ascolana, veal-stuffed and fried olives. I could have probably done with a half portion, this is clearly enough for two to share. That, of course, didn’t stop me. Plump, juicy olives, a well seasoned filling, and a crackly crisp exterior shell. Fresh tomato sauce, without additions, just a simple marinara. 13500 pesos/us$12.50.
And, the main event. I went for their Pizza Diavolina - “tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella, and Calabrian ‘nduja”. It was everything promised. Vibrant, beautifully balanced tomato sauce and plenty of it, great cheese, and… easily the spiciest ‘nduja I’ve had in Buenos Aires. I was sweating from the picante. Now that’s the way to do it. I popped back to the open kitchen after lunch to inquire of the cute pizzero where they get their ‘nduja from and he said a friend of the owner makes it for him. I want to be friends with the owner’s friend. 22900 pesos/us$20 - nearly double the one above at Radiante, but worth every peso extra.
In for a centavo, in for a peso. They had cannoli on the menu, and a choice of fillings. Of course I went for the ricotta. Light, delicate, crisp shell, golden brown. The filling a rich, lightly citrusy ricotta cream, studded with bits of chocolate and orange peel. Not filled well - there’s like a solid inch in the middle with no filling. 9900 pesos/us$8.50, espresso included as a combination.
It was back to Caballito - I need to do some more exploring of this neighborhood, I’m finding some really interesting restaurants out this way - and this time a visit to Il Bruno, Rojas 705, corner of Felipe Vallese. Not a dedicated pizzeria, but a more wide ranging Italian restaurant, they still offer up ten different pizzas - five white and five red. On a weekend afternoon it was hopping - the indoor space was packed, with a waiting list. There was a slight chill in the air, so more people were waiting for those seats than willing to sit outside. I thought it was plenty comfortable and settled in at a table and ordered up their diávola.
First off, just look at that. The crust is beautifully browned, it’s puffy, and it has a malty edge to it - one of the better Neapolitan style crusts I’ve tried recently. Tangy tomato sauce is covered with a judicious amount of melted mozzarella, plenty of pepperoni slices, and then the whole thing is glazed over with a jalapeño and basil infused honey. I could feel the heat, which I appreciated, though for my tastes, there was too much honey. I just don’t generally want my pizzas that sweet. At the same time, I didn’t leave a bite unbitten. 17000 pesos/us$15.
And, well, I’m here, so a cannolo is in order. Offered with just ricotta filling and options for either plain, with pistachio, or with chocolate. The shell a bit thick and cookie-like, and not crisp. The ricotta filling just the right amount of sweet and tang, and almost as much extra beneath the cannolo as inside it. The pistachios are just scattered around the plate, which seems a weird choice - I guess it makes for a plating aesthetic. I’d rather the ends were well coated in pistachio, but it works. Not my favorite, just based on the texture of the shell. 5000 pesos/us$4.50. I was also a tad surprised that they don’t serve coffee - first, I’m not sure I’ve ever been to an Italian restaurant that didn’t, and second, they have signs up for Lavazza - you can even see one over the door in the first picture. The waitress guessed that maybe sometime in the past they used to serve coffee, but they don’t now.
About two years ago, a Neapolitan style pizzeria called Furore opened up in the downtown area. I haven’t yet been, but headed that way recently. I’d seen that they’d started offering Roman style pizzas about two months ago. Specifically the square in teglia, or in Spanish, al taglio style. What I didn’t realize was that it’s two different locations, a block apart. So I found myself at the latter spot, Furore al taglio, Maipú 494. It’s primarily just a takeout stand, but they have a small counter along the wall where three people can squeeze in and nibble their wares.
I went for their diávola, which was disappointing on the spicy front. In truth, it was nothing more than a pepperoni slice. Nothing remotely spicy about it. It was still decent, and I ordered up a second slice, a carbonara. It’s carbonara adjacent - a fried egg, a few bits of diced bacon, mozzarella, and aioli. They’re both good, but nothing more than that. The base is pizza bianca style - light and airy, a bit crunchy. Most of the slices run 4500 pesos/us$4. I still have their Neapolitan spot on my list. Hopefully it’s a step up from this.
More to come! There will always be more to come.