"It's really about the dough, isn't it," said famed pastry chef Nancy Silverton, as we spoke recently about the best pizza in America. Both of us agree Phoenix's Pizzeria Bianco is in a class by itself. So does Ed Levine, author of a hot guide to American pizza.
No Vegas restaurant was feted in Levine's book, Pizza: A Slice of Heaven. But maybe Levine would reconsider if he tasted the offerings at a new restaurant, Settebello, where young Brad Otton, a former USC quarterback who spent two years in Naples, Italy, on a mission for his church, is churning out serious pizzas to conform with the rigorous standards of VPN, an Italian-language acronym for real Neapolitan pizza.
The VPN charter requires that the dough be worked with the hands, never rolled with a rolling pin, and that only raw ingredients are used in its production. Otton has imported a wood-burning stone oven for his pizzas and uses top-notch ingredients, such as cold cuts from Mario Batali's dad in Seattle, whole-milk mozzarella and terrific tomatoes. He has also imported a live Neapolitan pizzaiolo, or pizza maker, Carmine D'Amato, who rocks.
Otton also wants to serve your pizza uncut, the way it is served in trattorie all over the south of Italy. This has resulted in a few objections, so the kitchen will slice to order if it is requested. Still and all, this is the most authentic—and delicious—pizza that this area has yet seen. Now we'll see how well it is received.
Because, to be sure, if you are expecting what you get at Domino's, Round Table or Pizza Hut, you are in for a major surprise. This is bubbly, crisp-crusted pizza that you tear apart with your hands, and it literally bursts with flavor. Settebello is a simple neighborhood stop with pleasant décor, lots of space and an ultra-simple menu.
Yes, there is a simple green salad, and even caprese—fresh mozzarella with tomato and sweet basil, crowned with extra virgin olive oil and sea salt. But the pizza's the thing here, and that's just about it. Capricciosa is topped with crusted tomato, cotto salami, artichoke hearts, roasted mushrooms and olives, while the Bianca is a white pizza topped with arugula, prosciutto and Parmesan cheese.
Del Cafone features wood-roasted fennel sausage and roasted peppers, while the pride-and-joy pizza here, the Settebello, soars on pancetta, sausage, pine nuts and basil. There is no way to go wrong here, even if you go simple and have a classic no-cheese Marinara or simple Margherita, made with tomato, mozzarella and basil. They are all fabulous.
Three Tomatoes and a Mozzarella, in contrast, is slickly managed, part of a chain that originated in Arizona. This location, hard by the 215 Beltway at Rainbow, is the first Vegas location. I'm predicting there will be others.
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The name is cute, in the spirit of Three Weddings and a Funeral. The food is generally quite good. Pizzas have medium-thick, nicely firm crusts and are hand-tossed, served on metal stands at the table. There is also a spate of good salads, panini and pastas. Since it opened, only a few months ago, business has been brisk, so better reserve.
I was suitably impressed with my Un Greco, a pizza topped with artichokes, feta cheese and pesto sauce. The Fig and Prosciutto, topped with tangy fontina and Parmesan cheese, is also good, and though I didn't taste it, Potato Pie, a mishmash topping of thinly sliced garlic potatoes, bacon, caramelized onions and sautéed spinach, smelled enticing.
But this is hardly just a pizza joint. First off, it's handsome in here, thanks to the sponge-painted floor, faux bronze tabletops, and ceiling done up with hanging, trellised plants. Then there is the crowd, young, noisy and hungry. Every table seems to be filled with food.
The hearty minestrone soup has beans, vegetables and ground beef and pork, unfortunate for my vegetarian companion but fine with me. He was consoled by fettucine topped with a rose-colored sauce, actually a blend of tomato and Alfredo sauce.
A classic Caesar was workmanlike but good enough, tossed with homemade croutons and garnished with perhaps too much Parmesan cheese. Spinach and arugula comes with gorgonzola cheese, spiced walnuts, mandarin oranges and prosciutto, therefore suitable as an entrée, and addictively good.
But there were missteps. Grilled pollo, one of the panini, was somewhat tasteless. The chicken gave the impression of having been sliced from a processed breast, and the fontina cheese lacked pungence. What's more, our Bolognese, which the menu trumpets as "a rich and hearty" sauce, was watery, and the meats it employed—hamburger, prosciutto, Italian sausage and bacon—were too finely minced.
At the finish, there is an impossibly rich tiramisu in a martini glass, or an array of gelati and sorbetti that few will be able to resist. The pizza sweepstakes are getting hotter by the minute around here.