What capital I have here will surely be spent with this post, but we went to the new Frankie’s Pizzeria in the 5th floor open space of the 900 N. Michigan (Bloomingdale’s) mall, and thought it was fantastic. (Frankie’s Scallopine is the traditional four-wall restaurant just adjacent, in the space formerly known as Tucci Benucch. We have not been there.)
I’m bad at writing about food but good at knowing when something tastes extra-good. That happened.
The specialty at Frankie’s is Sardinian style pizza, which the waiter described as sauceless and containing only two or three ingredients so as not to exceed the weight limit of the delicate thin crust. (They also have a selection of “conventional” thin-crust pizzas with tomato sauce, etc.) I ordered the anchovy and parmesan Sardinian pizza, and, after getting the waiter’s assurance that adding mushrooms would not break the camel’s back of the crust, had them throw those in, too.
It was a delicious combination. The anchovies were not whole, but instead finely minced with herbs, garlic and olive oil. Usually the “not whole” is a red flag to me, because I like the taste of anchovies and finely mincing seems like Anchovies for Dummies, or anchovies-for-people-who-don’t-like-anchovies, but not this time. The flavor was as anchovy as any anchovy-lover could wish. This combined with the parmesan cheese beautifully, and the mushrooms took the total taste combination over the top (in a good way). As for the crust, it was so redolent of the oven that I would gladly have eaten it plain.
Some things taste great at first bite but then grow tiring as one eats on. (This was the whole raison d’etre the NYT cited for the “small plates” trend.) But with this pizza, each slice was somehow
more delicious than the one before it. I don’t know how that happens, but it has happened only rarely to me, and I know it is the sign of something good going on.
A couple of glasses of a Sardinian red wine (Sella & Mosca Cannonau Riserva) worked well with the pizza. We both really liked the setting of the restaurant, too. Being next to the great round window that looks out onto Michigan Avenue makes the place feel like it has its own reason for being, rather than just that it's utilizing some open space efficiently.
I have not been to Coalfire, Spacca Napoli or some of the other neighborhood temples of thin crust pizza in Chicago that are oft-discussed here, so I can’t compare Frankie’s to them. By the same token, though, those who have been to Coalfire, Spacca Napoli, et. al. but have
not been to Frankie’s should think twice before they jump to the conclusion that Frankie’s cannot be as good as or better than those places just because it’s a Melman operation at a tony N. Michigan Ave. address. I understand the reason for favoring underdog, independent, neighborhood operations, but would nevertheless be very interested in the results of a blind taste test competition, were one ever to occur.
Frankie's 5th Floor Pizzeria
900 N. Michigan
312 266 2500