Naples is home to thousands of ground-floor apartments known as “i bassi” or “the ground floors.” They were designed to be garages, storage rooms, or workshops.
“Accanto all’ingresso di ognuno il Comune ha fatto scrivere col mascherino a vernice: “Terraneo non adibibile ad abitazione.” Invece si continua ad “adibire.” I bassi sono ancora migliaia, i loro abitanti decine di migliaia.” (Text and photos from “La Città Parla – Napoli” (1969, Casa Editrice A. Morano di Napoli)
[Beside the entrance of each one, the city has painted, “Ground floor not adaptable for habitation. But people continue to “adapt.” They are thousands in number, and their inhabitants tens of thousands.]
Yesterday, I was strolling along with La Bimba in the stroller, when a broom came lunging out of a basso doorway, nearly decapitating me. The broom belongs to a greasy-haired old lady; the basso’s interior, and as far out as she can lean onto the street from her waist-high door, is her domain. The lady has a slightly deranged look in her eye, and a permanently fixed half-smile to go with her permanently fixed house dress. Her smile always broadens when she sees La Bimba. I admit to quickening my pace a bit when she reaches out to touch La Bimba with trembling hand.
Try as I may, I don’t think I can do justice to the basso phenomenon. On the one hand, it’s not so hard to describe: street level housing, ground floor apartments that open onto the street. On the other hand, you need several hands and maybe a foot or two to capture what it means to live in a ground floor apartment in Naples. In the past, I have described it thusly:“Residential in Naples means storefront-level housing called bassi. If you live in a basso, you live half your life on the street. I would say sidewalk, but there are too few sidewalks to mention in Naples. The street is where you set up your laundry rack (the bassi cannot string lines across the street like their upper floor neighbors; they would decapitate passing moped riders), your chairs to sit outside. It’s where you fight with your husband, serve your food in summer, smoke, drink, daydream. Your door is always open because you have no windows. Passers-by know what you’re having for dinner even if they’ve lost their sense of smell, know your favorite TV shows (and sometimes gather round to watch them with you), know the hour you turn down the sheets and get into bed. The bassi are what make Naples the most comic-tragic city in the western world.”(Note that decaptitation appears twice in this short post. I sense a theme emerging).Many basso inhabitants design their entrances to appear as front doors to country villas. There is latticework replete with climbing vines, potted plants, shrines to the Madonna or Padre Pio or both, shrines to dead relatives, their color glossies curling at the corners, canopies, columns, maybe a little fence. All of this aesthetic care does not, nevertheless, change the fact that when the inhabitant of a basso shakes out her rug, the dust mites hit La Bimba in the face; that when he eats his breakfast, a passer-by can see if the coffee is macchiato or not; that the monthly payments for the giant screen television mounted in the corner of the kitchen cost more than the rent; or that this house is supposed to be a garage, a blacksmith, a print shop.
The basso, along with the motorino, gives Naples its oddness, greatness, stubbornness, Naplesness. No matter how often I complain about it, Naples without the bassi would be just another western European capital, a place that has its physical spaces in all the right places: you shop here, you live there.
Mothers stand cut off at the waist at their Dutch doors like ticket vendors at a state fair, grandmothers hang out their colourful sheets like the welcoming flags of suburban America, fathers scream at their children to not get dirty and to come in for lunch. A woman picks at the pimples on her husbands back. A man drives by on his moped with his dog at the handlebars. Most bassi sit on streets where the sun’s rays do not reach. It is always dark and damp. Still, people are known to smile, and I thank La Bimba for that.
Naples is the city of “adaptability.” People do whatever they can to survive. Creating an apartment out of a ground-floor workshop is small potatoes compared to some of the things that people do there. This phenomenon, however, lends to the city a simultaneous air of creativity, hope, and desperation. Most tourists to Naples will never experience “i bassi,” because most of them are in neighborhoods that no tourist should ever visit, if they value their wallets or their safety. They are found in the alleys.
“Each alley is a self-sufficient microcosm, a kind of clan. “I’m from Pallonetto Santa Lucia.” Or, “I live in Vico Terzo Foglia at Mount Calvary.” And that’s a different world, a different ideology than Vico Secondo Foglia at Mount Calvary.”
Vedi Napoli e poi muori – see Naples and die. This phrase originated during the reign of the Bourbons of Naples, considered by historians to have been the city’s Golden Age. Now, some sarcastically note that it has a different meaning altogether, but if you’re willing to take some normal tourist precautions, there are still beauties to be seen and food to be sampled which cannot be had anywhere else. A sample list is here.
My previous post about Neapolitan Pizza reminded me that I’ve been thinking about Neapolitan Pizza. Having lived in Naples for a year and a half in 1970 and 1971, I may go on a Napoli jag here at the blog, and I hope I’ll be forgiven while I work out the feelings and memories that come flooding back unbidden on occasion. The following is a long ramble. Note: Some sections come from other sources, so don’t get too exited about the quality of writing throughout this post. The information is more important than the vehicle.
According to Wikipedia, pizza originated in Greece as bread coated with oils and herbs; modern pizza has its roots in Italy as the Neapolitan flatbread. Anyone can make pizza, and there are as many recipes as there are restaurants, but if you want to have “Real Neapolitan Pizza” on your window, you must be certified by the Verace Pizza Napoletana association.
The following section was written by VPN:
In 1984 a group of pizzaioli, led by Antonio Pace, sought to preserve the identity and integrity of Neapolitan pizza. From this struggle with the Italian government was born the association Verace Pizza Napoletana or Vera Pizza Napoletana (VPN). While forms of foccacia had been around for centuries, it was in Napoli where tomatoes were first placed on round discs of bread and cooked in brick wood fired ovens sometime in the late 1600’s. Mozzarella also made its debut on pizza in Napoli in the mid 1800’s if not earlier. While it is widely believed that the classic Napoli style pizza, the margherita, was invented by a pizzaiolo in 1889, there is written evidence that a pizza with tomatoes and mozzarella was already being made in Napoli much earlier.
It is this history that Signore Pace and others are trying to preserve through the VPN.
On May 16, 2007 Settebello Pizzeria was certified by the President of the US Chapter of the VPN, Peppe Miele, as only the 16th member in the United States. Settebello is the only certified member in the state of Utah, with branches in Salt Lake City and Farmington. We will always strive to preserve the art of pizza making as it has been done in Napoli for over 200 years.
Member Charter: ASSOCIATION OF “VERACE PIZZA NAPOLETANA”
“Verace Pizza Napoletana” is an international non-profit association. The objectives of the association are the following:
To cultivate the culinary discipline of the Neapolitan pizza, with its requisite preparation, ingredients and manner of cooking.
To protect and promote the authentic Neapolitan pizza and as a consequence, the association members who fulfill the culinary requirements and characteristics of the Neapolitan pizza.
To defend the origin of the authentic pizza and the tradition of the pizza as it began in Naples, Italy.
To designate by the Verace Pizza Napoletana certification mark those pizzerias which respect the culinary tradition of the Neapolitan pizza and where such pizza may be enjoyed.
THE CULINARY DISCIPLINE OF THE “VERACE PIZZA NAPOLETANA”
The certification is granted only to those establishments whose pizzas fulfill the following standards:
“Verace Pizza Napoletana” must be made from the following raw ingredients:
Flour
Natural Yeast, Yeast of Beer
Water
The pizza dough must be worked with the hands or with a mixer approved by the Association’s committee. After rising, the dough must be shaped with the hands and without a rolling pin or any mechanical means.
The cooking of the pizza must take place on the surface of the oven and not in any pan or container. The oven must be a wood burning oven and structured in a bell shape and of special brick with the floor of the pizza oven constructed of volcanic stone. The oven must be fired with only wood and kindling.
The classic pizzas and their respective basic ingredients are the following:
· Marinara (Napoletana): Tomato, olive oil, oregano, and garlic. · Margherita: Tomato, olive oil, grated Parmesan, and fior-di-latte or mozzarella. · Ripieno (Calzone): Ricotta, fior-di-latte or mozzarella, olive oil, and salami. · Formaggio e Pomodoro: Tomato, olive oil, and grated Parmesan
Basil leaves may be used on all types of pizza.
Variations of pizzas are recognized if they are in conformity with the Neapolitan tradition of pizzas and are not in contrast with the rules of gastronomy, with judgment reserved by the Association’s committee.
The pizza, when eaten, should present the following characteristics: soft, well cooked, fragrant and enclosed in a high, soft edge of crust.
The following section was posted by user SempreAngela at forum.literotica.com on July 23, 2003
The Origins of Pizza: Egypt, Greece, Rome.
Do you know that Pizza is three thousand years old?
Every civilization, we may say, has known different kinds of flat buns, pies or the like based on a dough made of cereal and water and various seasonings. It is a form of food that no doubt resembles pizza.
The ancient civilizations of the Mediterranean Sea offer a wide range of examples of those that can be considered the ancestors of the pizza as we moderns know it.
So from Egypt to Greece to Rome and Pompeii, we find many examples of dishes that remember pizza in their ingredients, composition and cooking.
In the ancient Egypt the custom was to celebrate the birthday of the Pharaoh by eating a flat bun seasoned with herbs, the greek historian Herodotus reports several Babylonian recipes while in VII B.C. Archilocus, the poet-soldier, in some lines informs us to have on his spear’s tip his “kneaded bun”, the typical food of the soldier.
The classic Greece shows to have known a wide range of examples that can be considered “archetipal” versions of pizza: flat pies or buns of all kinds appear to be very popular and widespread foods all over the classic age.
We find numerous testimonies of greek writers regarding these different kinds of “pizza”, the so called “maza” in ancient greek: testimonies that punctually we meet again in the Latin world and ancient Rome where, among other leavened or not versions of this bun, we find the “placenta” and the “offa”, prepared with water and barley, the cereal which the alimentation of the Latins was based on.
Pizza, without giving credence to other fanciful hypotheses about its origins, presents itself as a typical food of the civilizations blossomed on Mediterranean Sea’s basin. And in one of Mediterranean’s Queens, Naples, pizza will find its fatherland and the starting point of its worldwide diffusion.
The Middle Ages
We recover numerous clues of this food, in the course of centuries getting nearer to the form we know nowadays, also during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, always wavering between aristocratic taste and popular consumption, between kingly banquets and the poor’s table; the term “pizza” is already testified at the beginnings of the Middle Ages and during the subsequent centuries several local forms of this word are to be recovered: they show different variations, from sweet to salty, and various ways of cooking this course.
In the meantime the Longobards, that invaded Southern Italy after the fall of the Roman Empire, had brought with them the buffalo that, once acclimatized between Lazio and Campania, would have provided the milk for the making of mozzarella.
And in the Modern Age, the discover of the New World will bring to Europe an element without which it is impossible to imagine pizza: tomato.
After initial suspicions, tomato entered triumphally Italian cuisine, and particularly neapolitan cuisine. The pizza will take its good advantage of it, getting nearer to the form we know.
Pizza between XVIII and XIX century.
In the decades between the XVIII and XIX century pizza confirms itself as one of the most favourite dishes of the neapolitan people, entering with full rights the tradition of neapolitan cuisine: and the features of pizza and of the places appointed to its making, the pizzerie, begin to be more and more distinct.
During XVIII century, pizza is baked in ovens and then sold in the streets of Naples: a boy, who balanced on his head the typical “stufa” (a tin stove to keep pizza warm), brings directly to his customers the pizza, already made with different seasonings, after attracting their attention with his loud and typical calls.
Between the XVIII and the XIX century starts the habit of eating pizza at these ovens as well as in the streets or at home, a sign of the growing favour known by this course, by then fully established in the alimentation of the neapolitan people: the pizzeria, in its modern sense, is born.
The oven, the marble bench where pizza is prepared, the shelf upon which the different ingredients of pizza are shown, the tables where customers ate pizza, the outer display where fried pizza is stored to be sold to the passers-by: all features still to be found in the modern neapolitan pizzeria.
The first dinasties of neapolitan pizzamakers originate in these years: in 1780 the pizzeria “Pietro… e basta Così” is established. After two hundred years, the tradition of this ancient and historical pizzeria is continued by the Ancient Pizzeria Brandi.
Between aristocratic taste (the King of Naples Ferdinando II of Borbone greatly enjoyed the pizza made by ‘Ntuono Testa at Salita S. Teresa) and an even more decided popular favour, pizza establishes itself as a daily course, dinner and supper of the neapolitans.
Throughout the XIX century the “pizzaiuoli”, whether itinerant or not, kept on supplying the neapolitans with all the different kinds of pizza, for all pockets, the pizza becoming definitely an icon in the folklore of neapolitan people.
Witnesses and memorialists, but also writers and musicians and poets as Matilde Serao, Salvatore Di Giacomo, Libero Bovio or Raffaele Viviani, didn’t fail to record and celebrate the presence of pizza in people’s everyday life.
After the Kings of Naples, the Borbone, also the new Kings of Italy, the Savoia, showed to appreciate the neapolitan pizza: not only, but they left a mark in the history of pizza.
The Ancient Pizzeria Brandi still retains a document signed “sincerely, Galli Camillo, head of the table of the Royal Household”, dated June 1889. It is an acknowledgement to S.G. Raffaele Esposito, of the then pizzeria “Pietro e Basta Così”, for the qualities of pizza, among which the celebrated one with pomodoro and mozzarella, he prepared for Her Majesty the Queen Margherita, that, as emphasized in this letter, were found to be excellent.
The pizza with pomodoro and mozzarella was so named “Pizza Margherita” by the pizzaiuolo Raffaele Esposito, and that is the name by which this pizza is still universally known .
The beginning of the new century sees the pizza ready for its national and worldwide diffusion, well beyond the boundaries of Naples: in the course of our century pizza has won approvals from Europe to America to Japan, becoming, and this not an exaggeration, patrimony of the whole mankind.
The following section was written by VPN
While certainly ancient, the earliest origins of pizza are not at all clear. One interesting legend recounts that the Roman soldiers returning from Palestina, where they had been compelled to eat matzoh among the Palestinian Jews, developed a dish called picea upon gratefully returning to the Italian peninsula.
Most sources, however, agree that an early form of pizza resembling what today is called focaccia was eaten by many peoples around the Mediterranean rim, e.g., by Greeks, Egyptians etc.
These dishes of round pita-like, cooked bread with oil and spices on top are the ancestors of pizza, but are not properly speaking pizza. The tomato was unknown and the Indian water buffalo had not yet been imported to Campania, the area around Naples.
With the discovery of the New World, the tomato made its way to Italy through Spain. It was considered a poisonous ornamental and so in the first centuries of its import was not eaten.
The Neapolitan people seem to be the first to wholeheartedly adopt the tomato into their cuisine, so that in our day the (plum) tomato is the most characteristic element of Neapolitan cuisine.
Over the centuries, a veritable tradition of pizza was developed among the Neapolitan poor. It is not surprising, then, that a modern pizza, that is, with mozzarella di bufala and tomato was made in 18711 in Naples for Princess Margherita of Savoia by Raffaele Esposito. This patriotic pizza, of basil, tomato and mozzarella, in honor of the new tricolor Italian flag’s red, green and white, became the pizza alla Margherita. This form of pizza was then made known, popularized and adapted in all the world through waves of emigration from Naples in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
The History of the American style pizza pie.
The United States is among the most pizza enthusiastic countries one can find today. How did this come about?
Italian immigrants to New York City began making a version of pizza when they arrived in their new American home at the turn of the 20th century. The first pizzeria in the U.S. was opened by an Italian immigrant in 1905.
In addition, American GI’s returning from Italy gained a familiarity with the dish and it is in the post-WWII period that pizza really takes off in the United States.
1 Date per VPN Discipline and Specifications Manual.
‘A PIZZA per Lello Lupoli (in Neapolitan dialect)
Pizzaiuo’, m’he ‘a fa’ ‘na pizza muzzarella e pummarola… Ma ll’he ‘a fa’ cu ‘e mmane, ‘o core e.. ‘a fronna ‘e vasenicola, Falla bbona!
Mana grassa a muzzarella, miette ll’uoglio, miette ‘o sale… Falla fa’ cchiù arruscatella: quanno é cotta nun fa male… Cotta bbona!
E vullente, ‘a dint’ ‘o furno, nun l’he ‘a mettere ‘int’ ‘o piatto ca si no perde ‘o sapore… Io m’ ‘a piglio e ‘a chiejo a libretto… Quant’é bbona!
E cu famma e devuzzione magno primma ‘o curnicione… ‘O profumo é saporito! Mentre magno sto abbucato p’ ‘o… vestito.
Comme coce! E quant’é bella! Comme fila ‘a muzzarella! Muorzo a muorzo ‘haggio magnato… Pizzaiuo’ he ‘a campa’ cient’anne! Pizzaiuo’ me so’ sfizziato!!!…
Authentic Neapolitan Pizza is only cooked in a wood-burning oven at 825° F with oak or walnut wood as fuel. By way of contrast, American pizza is usually cooked in a gas oven in the range of 500-550° F degrees.
Only bufala mozzarella or fior-di-latte is used in Neapolitan pizza . This type of cheese is low fat, non-fermented and light. The finished Neapolitan pizza, therefore, is all natural, low fat, fragrant, and most importantly, supremely appetizing and satisfying. It has a smoky, sweet aspect that is not salty, oily or spicy.
Whereas, in the evaluation of the American pizza one often focuses on the cheese, with the Neapolitan Pizza the quality of the native ingredients means the pizza is as much about the tomato sauce and crust as it is the cheese. In general, less cheese is used in authentic Neapolitan pizza than in an American-style pie. In fact, with the Neapolitan pie, the surface of the pizza is usually not completely covered by cheese.
A pizza Margherita cooks in 1½ minutes.
The Associazone maintains the size of a true Neapolitan pizza – it can’t exceed 12 inches in diameter.
Neapolitan-Style Pizza Dough From Pizza Any Way You Slice It Copyright (c) 1999 by Charles and Michele Scicolone.
Makes enough for four 9- to 10-inch pizzas
In Naples the classic pizza measures about 9 to 10 inches and has a crust that is neither too thin nor too thick. The texture of the pie is soft and chewy. Neapolitans say the true test of a well-made pizza is whether it can be folded in half and then folded again, into quarters, without cracking or breaking the crust. Only the edge, called the cornicione, is crisp, though it too is chewy.
In Italy flour is softer than American flour because it is low in gluten, the protein that makes pizza dough and other baked goods chewy. Soft flour is great for making cakes and pastry, but not so good for pizza, so Italians blend their soft flour with hard American or Canadian flour, which they call Manitoba. This flour, which is higher in gluten, gives Italian pizza dough the desired chewiness.
On this side of the Atlantic, we need to soften our flour to make an authentic Neapolitan-style dough, so we combine cake flour with all-purpose flour. This tender dough stretches easily and has less of a tendency to spring back on itself, so it is easier to shape. Neapolitan dough is made with less yeast, so it rises a bit more slowly – perfect for a long, slow overnight refrigerator rise, or a more rapid rise at room temperature. The longer rising time makes a slightly better-tasting crust, too.
1 teaspoon active dry yeast
1 1/4 cups warm water (105 to 115 degrees F)
1 cup cake flour (not self-rising)
2 1/2 to 3 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons salt
Olive oil for the bowl
1. Sprinkle the yeast over the water. Let stand 1 minute, or until the yeast is creamy. Stir until the yeast dissolves.
2. In a large bowl, combine the cake flour, 2 1/2 cups of the all-purpose flour, and the salt. Add the yeast mixture and stir until a soft dough forms. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead, adding more flour if necessary, until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes.
3. Lightly coat a large bowl with oil. Place the dough in the bowl, turning it to oil the top. Cover with plastic wrap. Place in a warm, draft-free place and let rise until doubled in bulk, about 1 1/2 hours.
4. Flatten the dough with your fist. Cut the dough into 2 to 4 pieces and shape the pieces into balls. Dust the tops with flour.
5. Place the balls on a floured surface and cover each with plastic wrap, allowing room for the dough to expand. Let rise 60 to 90 minutes, or until doubled.
6. Thirty to sixty minutes before baking the pizzas, place a baking stone or unglazed quarry tiles on a rack in the lowest level of the oven. Turn on the oven to the maximum temperature, 500 or 550 degrees F.
7. Shape and bake the pizzas as described in the following recipe.
Tip: Pizzaiolo Umberto Damiano gave us this suggestion for making the crust of a homemade pizza taste toasty and charred as if it had been baked in a wood-fired oven: Sprinkle the preheated baking stone with flour a few minutes before placing the pizza in the oven. The flour will brown and give the pizza crust added flavor.
Simple Pizza Sauce – Salsa Semplice From Pizza Any Way You Slice It Copyright (c) 1999 by Charles and Michele Scicolone.
Makes about 2 1/2 cups
People are amazed when we tell them that Neapolitans do not put tomato sauce on pizza, but it’s true. Since commercial pizza ovens are so hot, a precooked sauce would burn and overcook while the pizza bakes. Instead, the typical tomato topping is nothing more than ripe, fresh crushed tomatoes or canned San Marzano tomatoes.
We find that while drained fresh, ripe tomatoes taste great, canned tomatoes cooked on a pizza in our home oven, no matter how good their quality, taste like canned tomatoes. The baking temperature in a home oven is not high enough so the tomatoes simply don’t cook enough to become sweet. To counteract this, we simmer canned tomatoes briefly first with some oil and salt.
If you prefer a smooth sauce or use anything other than canned San Marzano tomatoes, puree the tomatoes first by passing them through a food mill. Do not use a food processor, which only grinds up the seeds and makes the sauce bitter.
1 can (28 ounces) Italian peeled tomatoes, preferably San Marzano, with their juice*
4 tablespoons olive oil
Salt
1. In a large saucepan, combine the tomatoes, oil, and salt to taste. Bring to a simmer.
2. Cook, stirring occasionally, until thickened, 15 to 20 minutes. Let the sauce cool before spreading it on the pizza dough.
*Variation: When vine-ripened tomatoes are at their peak in our area, we use them instead of canned and freeze a big batch of pizza sauce. Prepare the tomatoes: Bring a medium saucepan of water to boiling. Add the tomatoes and leave them in the pan for 30 seconds. Remove the tomatoes with a slotted spoon. Cool them under running water. Cut the tomatoes in half through the core and cut away the stem ends. The skins should slip off easily. Squeeze the tomatoes to extract the juice and seeds. Chop the tomatoes coarsely. Follow the proceeding instructions. Refrigerate the sauce up to one week or freeze it in 1- to 2- cup containers up to 3 months.
Pizza Marinara From Pizza Any Way You Slice It Copyright (c) 1999 by Charles and Michele Scicolone.
Makes 1 pizza
Da Michele is one of the oldest and most famous pizzerias in Naples. Since it is located on a small street, we could not locate it on a street map, so we gave out hotel concierge the address and asked for directions. The concierge, a very haughty gentleman, took a look at the address and his eyebrows shot up. “I would not go there,” he sniffed, implying that it was not in a safe or classy neighborhood. We went anyway and found the place surrounded by late-model Mercedes and BMWs and the entrance crammed with well-to-do Italians dressed in designer clothes. Hardly a threat by anyone’s standards. The pizzeria was so crowded that we could not get in, so we returned the next day for an early lunch.
Simplicity is what makes Da Michele so special. The walls are white, simply decorated with a few poems and quotations about pizza. The menu is as basic as could be: Only pizza marinara and pizza margherita are served. No other toppings are available, no other kinds of pies are served, no appetizers, side dishes, or desserts. Ever. When you are that focused, you have to be good, and Da Michele’s pizzas are some of the best we have eaten. Light and tender, they seem to melt in your mouth.
The pizzaiolo, a fellow whose uniform was as white as the walls, looked as if he had been casually turning out perfect pies all his life. When they saw us taking his picture, his assistants who work the oven demanded we take their photo, too.
1. Place the dough on a floured surface. Holding your hands flat, pat the ball out evenly with your fingers, lifting it and turning it over several times, until it reaches a 9-inch circle. Do not handle the dough any more than is necessary. If the dough seems sticky, dust it lightly with flour.
2. Dust a pizza peel or rimless cookie sheet with flour. Carefully transfer the circle of dough to the peel. Shake the peel once or twice to make sure the dough does not stick. If it does, sprinkle the peel with more flour.
3. Quickly top the dough with the sauce, spreading it to within 1/2 inch of the edge using the back of a spoon. Scatter the garlic and oregano over the sauce. Drizzle with the oil.
4. To slide the pizza onto the prepared baking stone, line up the edge of the peel with the back edge of the stone, then tilt the peel, jerking it gently to start the pizza moving. Once the edge of the pizza touches the stone, carefully pull back on the peel until the pizza is completely off. Once the pizza is on the stone, do not attempt to move it until it firms up in 2 or 3 minutes.
5. Bake 6 to 7 minutes, or until the dough is crisp and browned. Serve immediately.
Here are some pizza marinara variations we sampled elsewhere in Naples:
Pizza alla romana: In step 3, in addition to the garlic and oregano, top the pizza with 4 to 6 drained anchovy fillets. In Rome this pizza is called all Napoletana. In Naples, where all pizzas are alla Napoletana, this variation is called alla Romana.
Old lady’s face (Faccia Di Vecchia): In step 3 substitute thin slices of onion for the garlic. Sprinkle with toasted bread crumbs and grated pecorino Romano.
Pizza inferno: In step 3, after adding the garlic and oregano, sprinkle the pizza with capers, crushed red pepper, and grated pecorino Romano.
Pizza forte: In step 3, after adding the garlic and oregano, sprinkle the pizza with spicy pepperoni and drained hot pickled peppers.
Pizza atomica: In step 3, after adding the garlic and oregano, sprinkle the pizza with crushed red pepper and black olives and layer with salami and mozzarella.
Pizza mergellina: In step 3, eliminate the garlic. Top the pizza with one dozen steamed mussels, shells removed.
Pizza all’ortolana (Recipe-Garden Style): In step 3, eliminate the garlic. Top the sauce with peeled roasted red, green, and yellow bell peppers and a handful of pitted and sliced green olives.
Pizza alla siracusana (Syracuse Style): In step 3, eliminate the garlic. Top the sauce with fried eggplant slices, mozzarella, oregano, roasted bell peppers, and green olives.
From “La Città Parla – Napoli” (1969, Casa Editrice A. Morano di Napoli)
La pizza è un pasto da poveri, una focaccia con olio e pomodoro. In tempi di benessere economico ogni trattore aggiunge il suo “segreto,” uno o più ingredienti. Ma il vero segreto sta nel modo di mangiare la pizza: ricco o povero, ogni napoletano avverte dinazi una pizza fragrante il morso della fame ancestrale, cronica della città. Il segreto e tutto lì.
Pizza is a poor man’s food, a crust with oil and tomato. When times are good, every chef adds his own “secret,” one or more ingredients. But the real secret is found in how the pizza is eaten: rich or poor, every Neapolitan with a fragrant pizza before him fends off the ancestral, chronic hunger of the city. That’s where the secret lies.
It wasn’t pretty. “White only.” “No Irish need apply.” “Japs go home.”
While we flatter ourselves to think that these shameful episodes in our country’s history are now a thing of the past, discrimination in many aspects of life continues. While more subtly than in years past, blacks and hispanics continue to fight discrimination in the workplace, in the housing market, and in social situations. Women and the gay[1] community are discriminated against constantly and openly. People with excess weight are treated like pariahs. Mormons are routinely pilloried by the media with seeming impunity. Despite the ADA, people with disabilities[2] still find barriers everywhere in society and individuals and companies who don’t give a rat’s South-4o. In fact, “-isms” are so rampant in our society that there are hardly enough nouns to cover them all. Oh, and there’s one more that employers might just as well hang out these days:
Just try looking for work and being close to retirement age. It’s like you’re an invisible leper with terminal halitosis.
No, all is not lost. Public awareness continues to grow. It’s better than it was. But let no one think we live in “lamp beside the golden door” egalitarian society that the picture books talk about. In this country, some animals are definitely more equal than others.
Ever notice how the roaches scurry for cover when you flick the light on? That’s our strongest weapon. Shining the bright light of exposure into the dark corners of intolerance. Keep fighting the good fight, and our children and their children will have a better world than we do.
The Old Wolf has spoken.
[1] “Gay” in this context is a portmanteau for “not straight”. GLBTAlphabetSoup is just getting too complex for my poor brain.
[2] Give it a rest. They’re disabled, but not “less than.” I don’t put stock in political correctness for its own sake.
I found this blog entry the year Mr. Wieczorek created it, and felt moved to share it here for a couple of reasons. First, because it’s just as valid today as it was in 2005, and second, because the scatter chart says a lot about the overall state of our economy and the gap between the haves and the rest of us. The PDF file referenced below is an interesting read as well.
Why Your Pointy Haired Boss Is A Mathematical Certainty
We’ve all had one. That annoying boss who just doesn’t have a clue. A useless middle manager that can’t lead, can’t manage yet somehow manages to keep his job. Well, know you’ll know why he exists.
The Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) produces some interesting documents about things like the percentage of the population that can work, the percentage of that population that is employed and so on.
Well, one document they produce is the Occupational Employment and Wages report. Basically it says how many people have what job and what they get paid.
So I gathered the data from this chart and created this graph that shows how many people get paid what. Each dot represents a type of job.
It’s pretty easy to tell from looking at it that lots of people have jobs that don’t pay a lot of money, and a few people have jobs that pay a lot of money. Nothing really unexpected here, I guess.
But what is that dot… that single, attractive dot that employs nearly 2 million people and pays nearly $90,000? Surely, if there was a job worth having, it would be that one. Lots of people do it, so it must not require a lot of skill, yet it pays better than the vast majority of other jobs out there.
What is that job? That sweet, sweet job that employs roughly 1,892,060 people and pays $88,700 annually (on average). Why it’s General and operations managers, of course.
And now you know why your pointy haired boss is an almost mathematical certainty. It’s an attractive, well-paying job, that doesn’t seem to be too discriminating about who gets hired.
I love the work of Charles Addams. I grew up with it, as “The New Yorker” was an ever-present guest in our Manhattan home. The Tee and Charles Addams Foundation is very protective of Charles’ work, so I can’t post the full image I want to here: A receptionist, preparing to leave the office at 5:00, glances up from her powder mirror to the Muzak speaker above her desk. The speaker front is open, and down a tiny rope ladder are descending five miniscule musicians with various instruments. Time for them to head home, too. I hope the small snippet below will not offend anyone.
Since 1934, Muzak has been piping soft mood music into elevators, offices, and shopping centers everywhere. Now, the brand is finally being retired. Not, however, the music itself – those of you who hate the lilting re-craftings of “Hey Jude” will still have the genre to detest – the new portmanteau brand will be called “Mood.”
Me, I’ve always loved elevator music. I find it relaxing, lulling, peaceful, must… spend… money….
Anyone who has spent any amount of time eating out has encountered the Bastard Server from Hell – a good example can be seen at Not Always Working. When we’re treated poorly, human nature leads us to seek revenge (hence the proliferation of attorneys in our society), and the most obvious way to get back at a poor server is to leave them a small tip, or none at all.
Somewhere in my youth, during a long avocation as magician and prankster (most of that has been packed away in boxes for decades, largely due to lack of time) I collected this little gem:
The coin reads, “Give Nothing – Get Nothing”, and “Zero Cents: This Coin is Your Tip – It Matches Exactly the Value of Your Service”
I thought it was hilarious, and wanted a whole bag full of them. 40 years later, I’m grateful I never left one of these, because I didn’t understand the system.
In the wake of the recent media brouhaha over the sever who was fired from Applebee’s for posting a photo of a customer’s receipt, the individual in question, Chelsea Welch, has posted an essay at The Guardian, talking about her experience and underscoring the inequity of the restaurant compensation system. I repost her thoughts here in full, as they deserve to be seen as widely as possible.
I was a waitress at Applebee’s restaurant in Saint Louis. I was fired Wednesday for posting a picture on Reddit.com of a note a customer left on a bill. I posted it on the web as a light-hearted joke.
This didn’t even happen at my table. The note was left for another server, who allowed me to take a picture of it at the end of the night.
Someone had scribbled on the receipt, “I give God 10%. Why do you get 18?”
I assumed the customer’s signature was illegible, but I quickly started receiving messages containing Facebook profile links and websites, asking me to confirm the identity of the customer. I refused to confirm any of them, and all were incorrect.
I worked with the Reddit moderators to remove any personal information. I wanted to protect the identity of both my fellow server and the customer. I had no intention of starting a witch-hunt or hurting anyone.
Now I’ve been fired.
The person who wrote the note came across an article about it, called the Applebee’s location, and demanded everyone be fired — me, the server who allowed me to take the picture, the manager on duty at the time, the manager not on duty at the time, everyone. It seems I was fired not because Applebee’s was represented poorly, not because I did anything illegal or against company policy, but because I embarrassed this person.
In light of the situation, I would like to make a statement on behalf of wait staff everywhere: We make $3.50 an hour. Most of my paychecks are less than pocket change because I have to pay taxes on the tips I make.
After sharing my tips with hosts, bussers, and bartenders, I make less than $9 an hour on average, before taxes. I am expected to skip bathroom breaks if we are busy. I go hungry all day if I have several busy tables to work. I am expected to work until 1:30am and then come in again at 10:30am to open the restaurant.
I have worked 12-hour double shifts without a chance to even sit down. I am expected to portray a canned personality that has been found to be least offensive to the greatest amount of people. And I am expected to do all of this, every day, and receive change, or even nothing, in return. After all that, I can be fired for “embarrassing” someone, who directly insults his or her server on religious grounds.
In this economy, $3.50 an hour doesn’t cut it. I can’t pay half my bills. Like many, I would love to see a reasonable, non-tip-dependent wage system for service workers like they have in other countries. But the system being flawed is not an excuse for not paying for services rendered.
I need tips to pay my bills. All waiters do. We spend an hour or more of our time befriending you, making you laugh, getting to know you, and making your dining experience the best it can be. We work hard. We care. We deserve to be paid for that.
I am trying to stand up for all of us who work for just a few dollars an hour at places like Applebee’s. Whether a chain steakhouse or a black-tie establishment, tipping is not optional. It is how we get paid.
I posted a picture to make people laugh, but now I want to make a serious point: Things like this happen to servers all the time. People seem to think that the easiest way to save money on a night out is to skip the tip.
I can’t understand why I was fired over this. I was well liked and respected at Applebee’s. My sales were high, my managers had no problems with me, and I was even hoping to move up to management soon. When I posted this, I didn’t represent Applebee’s in a bad light. In fact, I didn’t represent them at all.
I did my best to protect the identity of all parties involved. I didn’t break any specific guidelines in the company handbook – I checked. But because this person got embarrassed that their selfishness was made public, Applebee’s has made it clear that they would rather lose a dedicated employee than an angry customer. That’s a policy I can’t understand.
I am equally baffled about how a religious tithe is in any way related to paying for services at a restaurant. I can understand why someone could be upset with an automatic gratuity. However, it’s a plainly stated Applebee’s policy that a tip is added automatically for parties over eight like the one this customer was part of. I cannot control that kind of tip; it’s done by the computer that the orders are put into. I’ve been stiffed on tips before, but this is the first time I’ve seen the “Big Man” used as reasoning.
Obviously the person who wrote this note wanted it seen by someone. It’s strange that now that the audience is wider than just the server, the person is ashamed.
I have no agenda here. I seek no revenge against the note writer. I have no interest in exposing their identity, and, at this point, I’m not even sure I want my job back. I was just trying to make a joke, but I came home unemployed.
I’ve been waiting tables to save up some money so I could finally go to college, so I could get an education that would qualify me for a job that doesn’t force me to sell my personality for pocket change.
(Note: The last two paragraphs were added by Ms. Welch after the original article was published.)
While this story has garnered immense media attention, my story is not uncommon. Bad tips and harsh notes are all part of the job. People get fired to keep customers happy every day.
As this story has gotten popular, I’ve received inquiries as to where people can send money to support me. As a broke kid trying to get into college, it’s certainly appealing, but I’d really rather you make a difference to your next server. I’d rather you keep that money and that generosity for the next time you eat out.
In her essay, Ms. Welch says “I can’t understand why I was fired over this.” From the perspective of a person in the trenches, one who shows up every day without fail, who puts in obscene hours, and who does their best to deal with the kind of douchebag customers (and managers, and corporations) one encounters at Not Always Right, for a pittance of a base wage and wildly fluctuating tips, it seems grossly unfair.
I reiterate: I’m really sorry Ms. Welch lost her job. In this economy (and I don’t care what the economists or the White House say, this country is still deep in recession), losing a livelihood can be catastrophic. Having put that on the table, there are two main issues here:
Expectation of Privacy, which I dealt with in my previous post, and
The nature of the tipping structure
As a business owner, I have not only Ms. Welch’s perspective but also the one that a corporation must have with regards to its customers. As mentioned in my first essay, the customer was wildly out of line to leave such an insulting and arrogant note for her server, and she is paying a heavy price of her own, having been roundly pilloried in the court of public opinion. But even as inappropriate as the customer was, she had a reasonable expectation of privacy, and Ms. Welch’s actionable offense was to put her company at risk for a lawsuit, not to mention the negative publicity.
The privacy issue aside, every word Ms. Welch wrote about the experience of working in a restaurant is indisputable. So your takeaway here is this:
☛ Never stiff your server! ☚
Notice the large, bold, italic, underscored, and colored text, and the exclamation point and the fists. That’s so you’ll remember: never stiff your server.
Notice what she said: “After sharing my tips with hosts, bussers, and bartenders, I make less than $9 an hour on average, before taxes.” And remember, that the IRS in its wisdom taxes tips based on an expectation that servers are receiving 18%, which is often not the case. So that couple of bucks you leave on the table, and walk out feeling like you’ve done your good deed for the day? Pennies go into your server’s pocket. All my life I’ve tried to tip generously, and I’ve taken flak for it from people along the road, but that has never deterred me. If I can afford to eat out, I can afford a decent tip, and by decent I mean 20% or more if it’s warranted.
So what’s a customer to do if they actually encounter service from Hell? The decent thing to do is leave a tip anyway, because there are a lot of people down the line who weren’t rude or lazy or incompetent, and keep in mind that anyone can have a bad day. That server may have just broken up with a loved one, or suffered a loss, or be absolutely exhausted from working two other jobs – all of which are much more likely than just being downright ignorant. The point is, you don’t know, and by stiffing your server you’re stiffing a lot of other people who worked their tails off to make your dining experience a success. If you really have a legitimate complaint, see management about it, but for the love of Mogg don’t be a douchebag yourself; stay civil. Even the manager doesn’t make enough money to be treated like something you scraped off your shoe.
There’s another essay waiting in the wings about the ethicality of the entire system and the responsibilities of restaurant owners, but that will have to wait – I’ve been teaching for most of the night, and I need to go back to bed for a while.
EDIT: I recently encountered a great article about tipping with some intriguing statistics. Click through to visit Wait But Why.
Playing in the World Game 
