Naples (Presented in Four Pizzas)

I love a good juxtaposition. And coming down from Palazzo Avino, high above the sea, straight into the chaotic, colorful heat of Naples was an incredible one. More so than any other city I’ve visited in Italy thus far, Neapolitans LOVE their car horns. Like, I’m pretty sure they were all having a conversation that I wasn’t privy to, but I can tell you this: whatever they were discussing was in-tense. It was hard for me to not compare the frenetic energy of the city to Mumbai, but there are definite parallels. It’s loud, vibrant, and charged, bordering on aggressive. I was pretty tired after a long car ride, so I took it easy that night in order to wake up fresh and ready to tackle the city the next day.

I started the day with practicalities—doing laundry and picking up some face products from Lush. Quick side note: Even in Italy, Lush products are called by their English names (Aqua Marina, Dark Angels, etc.). My new favorite thing is going into Lush and speaking Italian until I get to the name of the product I’m looking for, at which point I pronounce it with the thickest American accent I can muster. It never fails to delight the people working at Lush.

Pizza #1 (The Spanish Quarter Star):

Chores out of the way, I decided it was time for my first pizza in Naples. I headed to a pizzeria recommended by Elizabeth Minchilli called Da’Attilo. Little did I know that it was located in the Spanish Quarter, one of the most beautiful, eclectic parts of the city. As I arrived at the restaurant and waited for my table outside, it was like I was watching a play, but from the middle of the stage. There were fish shops with an array of flats filled with ice and topped with every kind of creature from the sea you can imagine—shimmering anchovies, bulging cod, voluptuous octopi. Motorcycles zoomed by, weaving in between strollers and people strolling. Cigarette smoke curled around sharply dressed women and sweaty delivery truck drivers. I stood there, completely transfixed, albeit with growing hunger, until I was shown to my table.

I ordered a roasted veggie pizza shaped like a star, with the “points” filled with fresh ricotta. I normally don’t order pizzas that don’t have tomato sauce as a base, but I made an exception in this case and was well-rewarded for my bravery. The dough, cheese, and vegetables were so flavorful that I didn’t even miss it. (Quick confession: Before I had taken a bite, I may or may not have asked for a side of tomato sauce to dip the ricotta-filled points in. I mean, that sounds delicious, right? My server responded with a firm, “No.”)

After lunch I did a walking tour, which started at the Archaeology Museum and took me through a grand, mostly abandoned mall, busy piazzas, and bookstore-lined lanes. I also saw ornate churches (one with empty beer bottles and a twin-sized bed perched completely level at the front door) and a few thousand shops with tourist knick-knacks. But these tourist knick-knacks were incredible—beautifully crafted nativity scenes underneath large glass domes. And, my favorite: tiny mechanical men loading pizzas into wood-burning ovens which glowed with flickering, orangey-red lights.

At the end of my walk, I stopped for my new favorite pastry, sfogliatelle, at a beloved bakery called Attanasio. It was quite a long wait, but when I finally got the sfogliatella, it was fresh out of the oven and absolutely delicious. Buoyed by the sugar, I decided to take the subway back to my hotel. Queue the public transportation insanity. Broken ticket machines, broken turnstiles, and a 30-minute wait deep in the bowels of Naples. The longer we waited, the more people arrived at the train platform, the more nervous I got that we would not all fit on the next train. I mean, there were a LOT of people waiting. I wanted to ask someone how big the trains are and if they thought we could all fit on the next train, but I wasn’t sure it I could express that all in Italian. So, I asked someone near me if he spoke English. He looked hesitant and gave me the  “not really”-look, so I took a deep breath and did my best to ask my questions. To my surprise, it turned out to be quite easy and he assured me that, yes, we would all be able to fit on the train. And he was right!

Pizza #2 (A Sizzle Concert):

After a bit of a rest, I decided that it had been too long since I’d eaten pizza, so I set out to have dinner at Pizzeria Concettina ai Tre Santi, recommended by my friend Andrea in Rome. As my taxi began making its way to the pizzeria, the driver started to head into the area where I had been walking earlier—an area of tiny lanes filled with masses of people. I thought to myself, ‘There’s no way he’s going to drive a car through those lanes.’ But I was wrong!

So, let’s talk about this pizza. I had asked my server what he recommended and what arrived was a fairly thick, golden-crusted pizza topped with chunky, glistening tomatoes, olives, and anchovies. Oh, and it was sizzling. Sizzling! I won’t insult this pizza by trying to use words to describe how good it was, because I can’t. I just won’t. I refuse to.

One last thing about this pizzeria: it has a really cool backstory. It was started by the current owner’s great-grandmother and since before the first World War, it’s been serving pizzas to anyone who is hungry, regardless of whether they can pay for them. (And, people who eat at the restaurant can buy “suspended pizzas” to contribute.)

Pizza #3 (Dean Michele):

Late that night, as I was fast asleep, my best friend arrived in Naples. The next morning, Dean and I met on the roof of our hotel for breakfast overlooking the city. We first met as freshmen at Notre Dame and have taken many a trip together, but never someplace as far and exotic as Italy. After filling up on coffee, we decided to make a beeline to the most crucial part of our time in Naples—Da Michele. (Or, as it is more commonly referred to: “The Place Where Julia Roberts Has Pizza in Eat, Pray, Love.”)

We arrived around 10:30 and the place was already mobbed. We got a ticket and decided to go for a walk while we waited. Dean loves taking side streets, so we stumbled upon a super rustic bread shop that was NOT prepared for two giddy American tourists who hadn’t seen each other in several months, then found a little café where the barista insisted that we have some babà with our espresso. (Babà is a Neapolitan specialty—essentially a rum-soaked sponge cupcake.) Hesitant to miss our turn, we headed back to Da Michele. And, now that it was lunch time, the entire area in front of the pizzeria was teeming with people. Eventually, our number was called and we were seated. We ordered a margherita pizza, a marinara pizza, and two beers. The pizzas arrived quickly and were piping hot and delicious. We took photos unabashedly and had a great time.

Oh, one more thing. Before we left, I went to use the bathroom, but didn’t understand how the door handle worked, so a huge line of guys formed after me because I thought someone was in the bathroom, but really it was empty and when I finally realized this and began profusely apologizing to the line of people behind me, the guy at the front of the line smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and said one of my favorite Italian words: “tranquillo.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon walking around Naples, popping into shops, reading plaques, and catching up. Also, coffee.

Pizza #4 (Pepperoni Sunset):

When it was time for dinner, we walked to a completely new part of the city that we both fell in love with—beautiful, wide, pedestrian-only lanes paved with cream-colored stone and lined with bustling wine bars, shops, and restaurants. We ended up at another pizzeria recommended by Andrea: Sorbillo. It’s right on the ocean, so we sat outside with a beautiful view of the sea and ate pizza and drank wine and laughed about how much the people at the restaurant just did NOT understand my Italian.

After dinner, we walked out to the sea wall and watched the waves come crashing in, salty-sea air blowing in our faces and lights twinkling along the coast. I started to muse, “If someone had told us twenty-three years ago that we would be here…” and Dean said, “I would have believed them.”

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An Italian Road Trip

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The Stevie Suite