Keste

My favorite pizza in the city is not even New York style pizza- it’s Neapolitan. Keste, which means “this is it” in the Neapolitan dialect, is on Bleecker near Morton St, between 6th and 7th avenues. It’s a thin, railroad type place with informal seating and an overly pleasant, Italian waitstaff. The owner, who is almost always there making the pizzas, heads the American chapter of the Associazone Pizzaiuoli Napoletana, which CERTIFIES PIZZA MAKERS in the Neapolitan style. I’ve become somewhat of a regular, you could say (got my first comped tiramisu there about 2 weeks ago- YES), and this was long before New York magazine and Time Out NY ranked it as the current #1 pizza in New York.

Since then, the waiting time has grown exponentially but thankfully, the pizza has gotten only better. The place has gotten some flack, to which I only say that people just don’t get it. They’re looking for NY-style, or New Haven-style, or Chicago-style or “Greek guy’s crappy House of Pizza in New England” and this so isn’t that. Neapolitan pizza shouldn’t have a crunchy crust; it should have a generous slathering of olive oil that makes the dough a little soggy. It’s meant to be eaten with a fork and knife- not by hand. Those two factors alone seem to be throwing New Yorkers off, and I say good riddance. If you don’t get it, you shouldn’t be there, and the native Italians that populate the place would agree, too. They have a loyal following of friends, mostly Italian ex-pats, and while waiting outside with the manager someone will invariably stop by every 10 minutes or so just to say, “hi”.

By far, my favorite pizza there is the burrata pizza, which is on their list of specials only during certain times of certain weeks. Burrata is to mozzarella as kobe beef is to steak, as foie gras is to chicken liver. It is a ball of fresh mozzarella stuffed with heavy cream and more “rags” of mozzarella. Originally from the Bari region (near the “heel”), burrata is beginning to make its culinary splash over here in the States. It comes off much lighter than you would expect but still maintains an air of decadence. I dream of this pizza when I’m not eating it- anticipating that one night of the week when I know they’re getting a fresh shipment so I can swoop in and take an entire pizza to the face. A pizza so over-the-top and delicious I wax poetic on it as if I were talking about a sail in the Caribbean, climbing Angkor Wat, walking into air conditioning after melting in the subway or even steak. Yes, steak. Keste’s burrata pizza is the Pat LaFreida’s New York Strip of pizzas. “Keste”, indeed: this is it.

Gottino Brunch

As Julia child once noted, rose goes with anything, which is incredibly freeing for both an avid eater and a wine enthusiast. A few Saturdays ago, I found myself at Gottino in the West Village at the suggestion of my friend, Becky. We sauntered out to the back garden sometime in the mid-afternoon and immediately ordered a bottle of rose from the Montepulciano region of Italy (Montepulciano d’Abruzzo wine is named for the grape found in that area).

Having been freed from the chains of constricting wine choices, we dove into the menu and ordered a few small plates. I had their scrambled egg special which consisted of scrambled eggs (duh) with fava beans on a few pieces of toast. The eggs were perfectly cooked; just runny enough but also light and rich with flavor. There was a generous helping of olive oil in the dish, which only brought out the flavor and texture even more. Becky ordered (at my behest) the nutella and ricotta crostini, which turned out to be absolutely incredible with a wonderful balance of sweet and savory. We followed up with our own creation: a crepe with ricotta and nutella (the ricotta was seriously that good) and a prosciutto and fontina Panini, which was only “OK”, especially after having followed the crostini, crepes and scrambled eggs. The wine was absolutely delicious and fairly priced, as was the food, and we had a really enjoyable late brunch.

It should be noted that the back garden is an awesome place to spend a hot afternoon. It’s fully shaded by trees and part of the landscaping includes wine corks (doubly intriguing to us alcoholics). In New York City, its a rare treat to be able to enjoy food, wine, good company and the weaving of a spider web by a grotesquely large spider only inches away from you somewhere other than your overpriced, small, summer bug infested apartment.