After reading the huge accolades that Pizzeria Mozza has been getting from various sources, it would be a lie to say that my expectations were anything short of very high.
I tried not to let all the gawking eyes that fixated on us as we walked through the front door deter me from continuing my pizza pursuit (and were just as quickly diverted since neither one of us were celebs). This was the one and only place I was willing to endure such scrutiny in L.A since I was quite interested in seeing what type of pie a master bread maker (Nancy Silverton), teamed up with a celebrity Italian chef (Mario Batali) could create.
I have always heard and agreed that a great pizza is largely determined by the greatness of its bread. In fact, I cannot think of a single example anywhere where great bread didn’t yield great pizza (in any form, with any topping).
That was until I tried Pizzeria Mozza. No doubt; Mozza makes some of the finest pizza crust anywhere. As Erik says above, the pizza crust is “airy, chewy, light, and crunchy, all at once”. The trouble with these pies, however, lies not in the bread itself but the toppings and in its relationship to that wonderful crust. Although Mozza uses extremely high quality ingredients straight across the board (such as wonderful Parmigiano Reggiano, stellar fennel sausage, little neck clams, and fresh rosemary), I found the ratio of these toppings to be out of proportion to each other.
In the clam pizza, for example, overuse of dried rosemary overwhelmed the subtlety of the wonderful fresh clams and an overuse of Parmigiano Reggiano overwhelmed everything.
In our fennel sausage pizza, tasty but awkward golfball-sized pieces of sausage were completely unmanageable. I basically had to eat them separately from the pizza.
More importantly, the toppings seemed to be completely independent of the wonderful bread instead of harmoniously working with it, like any great pizza, no matter what the style. The trouble with these pies lies with their construction and its balance and has nothing to do with the ingredients they chose to use.
Don’t get me wrong. These were very nice examples of pizza. But there is little doubt that one walks away from such an experience with an even greater respect for those rare, seasoned pizza makers (the true artisans) across the country that have spent years perfecting what they would deem the perfect pie (C. Bianco – Bianco’s, D. Dimarco - Difara’s, A. Waters - Chez Panisse, A. Mangieri - Una Pizza Napoletana, and Ciminieri - Totonno’s, as examples).
I couldn’t help thinking as I left that Silverton was getting the short end of the stick in this newly formed partnership.
What I’d really like to know is where Silverton/Batali’s pizzas will be after a few more years and several more trials?
Until then, I’ll just have to anxiously await a better pizza and avoid all those glaring eyes.