Naples
If both pasta and gelato deserve an entire blog post respectively, then pizza would be the remaining Italian hero. With only a week to conquer Italy, to say i’ve searched and tasted “the best” pizza would be an overstatement. But can i not, really, when Elizabeth Gilbert described these masterpieces coming out from Michele’s wood-burning oven almost to the point that they are worth worshipping? i read her pizza story more than 3 times on page 84; wondering how it would actually taste like in my very own mouth. So imagine my contentment when they were lying right in front of MY EYES!
Believe it or not, we drove all the way to Naples just for this. Naples, such a far cry from Rome, is a ghastly town with provincials doddering around, persistently nettling us for money or to buy a fake LV. But i couldn’t care a farthing – the pizza was baking furiously in my mind . . .
There is a French saying that goes: Ce n’est que le premier pas qui coûte (It is only the first step that costs). After a few rounds of circling around the derisible town, we finally found ourselves at the entrance of L’antica Pizzeria da Michele. Allow me to warn you that if you fail to arrive by 1 p.m., be prepared to join a jeering Neapolitan queue.
{pizza with flying colors}
We were greeted by an old man who gave us a number to wait. If i were to ask him how long more we should wait, i’m almost sure i would get an insolent reply. To be honest, i felt sorry that hostility spells vehement in this pretty bilious town.
{where the magic is cookin’ . . . though it is not Michele who makes the pizzas anymore}
{the orgasmic pizza description that when read, you may find hard to believe}
{Michele and his family portraits}
{awesomesauce pizzas one fine grand piece for each}
{that single infused leaf}
{of course, get the Margarita pizza : DOUBLE CHEESE}
i would really love to describe this pizza to you but for the most accuracy, do read the framed snippet from Gilbert’s book (above). To be fair, what i can say for sure though is that the quality of the pizzas here today might not be on par as it was before, anymore.
{before 1 p.m.}
{after 1 p.m.}
And so we left Naples, which felt like a cross between Thailand and the Kelantan of Italy. The nettling continued; where provincials came out of no where to wipe your windshield as you watch helplessly, expecting you to tip them (we did not and this was the reaction this one gave us) :
{“Vaffanculo!“}
{tissue papers, anyone?}
What i would say to Napoli, i made a meme out of its own street mural:
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