Il Templo del Pizza!!

Pizzeria da Michele. The pizzeria that invented the Margherita. Established in 1870. Still in operation. Aptly called 'Il Templo del Pizza' meaning 'The Temple of Pizza'. I first saw it on television in 12th grade when Justine Shapiro toured southern Italy with Lonely Planet. One bite of their Marinara pizza and she said "No exaggerations, this is the best Pizza I’ve ever had in my life". That's when it became one of my must dos. Having a pizza at the very Pizzeria where it was created more than a century ago.Seven years later I was finally close to ticking this one off my list. We were on a trip to Italy and in Cinque Terre on the Ligurian coast in the north. Naples is in the south and it was a long journey. But I remained insistent and convinced my friends that the 'pilgrimage' was worth the effort. When we took the train that night, I must admit, I was having second thoughts. If the pizza was not as good as I said it was, my head would be on the chopping block.To make matters worse, the train journey was very uncomfortable. None of us could get any sleep. Throughout the night, I convinced myself that this is a pilgrimage to the 'Temple of Pizza' and that pilgrimages aren’t supposed to be easy. Moreover, the idea of going all the way to the south of Italy just to have a simple pizza made the foodie inside me very proud. The pilgrimage had to face new problems at sunrise, when the train came to a stop somewhere between Rome and Naples. It wouldn’t go any further and we had to take another (extremely crowded) train for the rest of the journey.When we finally arrived in Naples, my friends had become vocal with their threats. 'This better be good' they kept saying. After a 10 minute walk we were finally there. It took some searching but we finally found Pizzeria da Michele in a lane off the main street. The place didn’t look like much. It was small and the decor was similar to the many Irani restaurants one finds in Mumbai. This made me happy coz the best food is usually found in places like these. The menu was so small, it could be learnt by rote in one single reading. Only two pizzas: the Marinara and the Margherita. And Coke, Fanta or beer to drink. That's it. No fancy toppings, no deep-dish or extra thin crust bullshit. This was definitely a no-nonsense place.Since, we weren’t spoilt for choice, we ordered both the Margherita and the Marinara. Watching the pizza being made was an experience in itself. Much has been written and said about the meticulousness and eccentricities of Neapolitan Pizzaiolos and there I was, seeing all of it live. The dough cannot be rolled with a pin and must be hand-tossed. The base must not be more than 3 mm thick at the centre. The tomatoes used for the sauce must be of the San Marzano variety and must be grown on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius. The mozzarella cheese must be made from the milk of a Campania buffalo. Olive oil must be poured on the pizza in exactly three clockwise spirals. The Oven must be wood fired and maintained at a temperature of 485C. The pizza must be baked for only 60-90 seconds

When the pizzas were served at our table, I knew we would not be disappointed. The Marinara was the simplest possible pizza and was made with only the tomato paste, basil, garlic and olive oil, with the heat of the oven actually cooking the raw garlic in 90 seconds flat. No exaggerations, this is the best pizza I've ever had and no other can come even close. The Margherita had tomato paste, basil, oregano and Mozzarella cheese as toppings and was brilliant but second best when compared to the Marinara.

Threats turned to gratitude and all of us agreed that the pizzas we'd just had were worth the effort we'd put to get there and more. With this story, the search for the perfect pizza has ended. The visit to Da Michele has also strengthened a few beliefs I have about good food. The original recipe cannot be surpassed or bested. Whether it's Biryani from Hyderabad or Pizza from Naples, the original is always the best. Secondly, the best food is not served in fancy settings or Michelin-starred restaurants, but in small, simple places like Da Michele. The trip has also made sure that whenver I bite into a Pizza slice, I will definitely remember the small Pizzeria in a crowded bylane of Naples and long to go back.

A love affair begins

Hold on! Its not what you think, this is a love affair with a difference. No dates, no gifts, no quarrels, no making up and sadly no making out. This is a love affair with a city! Yes, a city. A city with a difference, a city like no other. Fasten your seatbelts and get ready for a rollercoaster ride, coz tonight we're talking about Barcelona!
Even before we left for Barca, friends had given us a fair idea about the rocking place that it was. But till we reached the city and got out of Liceu metro station, we were yet to know what we were dealing with. Our first sight of Barcelona was La Rambla, a wide pedestrian street in the centre of the city that is equally popular with tourists and locals. Choc-a-bloc with roadside cafes, bizarre street performers and regular people, the sheer amount of life in the city left us speechless and I guess we spent at least 10 minutes standing agape at the metro exit.
Our first meal in Barcelona was dinner at an Indian restaurant. Now, I wasn't keen on having Indian food in Europe, but after almost a month away, my friends were longing for it. So I reluctantly agreed to accompany them, and as expected was disappointed by the quality of food. I was in Catalunya and wanted Catalan food. So the next morning, when my friends headed back to the Indian restaurant for lunch, I went to a place that is an institution, not only in Barcelona, but in all of Catalunya. I went to Restaurante La Fonda.
Located in a small alley off La Rambla, this restaurant was huge. It had a humongous dining hall with an equally huge mezzanine floor and basement. And yet, I had to wait for quite a while before I got a table. The menu consisted of traditional Catalan fare and I started with a classic - the Escalivada. Mine consisted of bell peppers, with mince meat stuffed in a tart and served with white sauce. Needless to day, it was perfect. For the main course, I ordered Pork Roast Catalan style. Big chunks of pork served with potatoes, onions, bell peppers and a tangy sauce. Delicious it was, but quite a task to finish. Half a kilo of pork and two pints of San Miguel were consumed before I could be absolutely sure about skipping dessert. After that blissful meal, walking to Port Olympic to catch up with my friends looked like a mean task.
We lived it up that evening. Watching surfers at Barceloneta beach, cocktails at HardRock Cafe, partying at Maremagnum, we did it all. Tired, we went back to our hostel at around 4 am. And true to its spirit, Barcelona was still alive and kicking. The restaurants had closed but people were still strolling on the Rambla and no kidding, there were long lines outside some of the night clubs.
The next day was plagued by strained finances and for a quick bite, we headed to the ever popular Bagel Shop. This is a small cafe in a lane off the Rambla that serves Bagels with toppings of your choice. It was time to go Catalan again and I topped my Bagel with among other things, the Butifarra sausage. Simple but good, and a perfectly good meal if the budget is tight.
It was time to leave that evening and at Sants station, looking at my friends' faces, I could tell that they were in love with the city too.
On a serious note, Barcelona left a big question mark in my mind about how we have chosen to lead our lives. How the rat race in other big cities drives the simple joys of life into oblivion. But it also answered the very same question. For Barcelonetas, fun is serious business. Be it strolling the Rambla or surfing on the beach or more importantly, supporting their darling football club, Barcelonetas do everything with passion. Barcelona has shown me as I am sure it has shown countless others, how important it is to have fun.
So what are you waiting for? Pack your bags, take the next flight and go. Go!! Now!!

Austria Conquered!!!

After the Oktoberfest fiasco, it was time to head to our next destination - Austria. Well, I know it's not really known for it's food, but what the hell, it was part of our plan. And surprise surprise, it turned out to be the setting for one helluva foodie story.
Our first stop was Salzburg, home to Mozart and 'The Sound of Music'. Most of our time here was spent getting over the hangover of Oktoberfest. We had to check into a slightly high-end hotel coz all the youth hostels were fully booked. But you know what you get when you check into a slightly high-end hotel, dont you? A sumptuous breakfast buffet, that's what you get! Chocolate cereal, marmalade, ham, bacon, salami, it was all there. After the breakfast however, there wasn't much to right home about in Salzburg - atleast on the food front. Lunch meant some pasta and dinner meant McDonald's. It was beginning to look like this was gonna be a dissapointing trip for Mr. foodie. Till we arrived in Vienna.
I wasn't expecting Vienna to be any different from Salzburg when it came to food. But there was one thing I wanted to try. The Hot Dog I had seen Anthony Bourdain try in one of the episodes of No Reservations. Its called the Wurst in German and comes with your choice of German sausage. So the Wurst stand outside our hostel was the first place I went to the next morning. I had my Wurst with the best-known German sausage - the Frankfurter. Pretty damn good, I must say. I thought I had scaled the peak of Austrian food, till I went to lunch at a traditional Austrian eatery.
I was with two friends - both carnivores - and after browsing the menu for a while, we decided that the meat platter was our safest bet. And boy were we wrong! When the platter arrived, we realized that the bet was anything but safe. The platter was loaded with meat enough to feed a banquet. The embarrasment on our faces was a perfect photo-op and the entire clientele - and staff - had smiles on their faces, some were even giggling! We started with the meat nervously even as we tried to hide our embarrasment and tried hard not to look at any of the smiling staff or customers.
I thought that we'd be left to ourselves after a while, but that wasn't how the script was written. The smiling, giggling and commenting continued! After a while, I had had enough. This was too much to take for a foodie. I had to come out of this with my head held high. That's whan I told my friends, "Guys, we are better than this. We are gonna finish this damn thing, no matter how long it takes!". That was it, game on! We attacked the platter with a new found vigour and egged each other on when we thought we were getting too full. It took a lot of time and a lot of extra Coke but in the end we managed. The smiles on people's faces turn to astonishment as we walked out, obviously exhausted.
With this latest victory behind us, it was soon time to leave Austria, but not before I tried the Wurst again, this time with another German sausage - the Bratwurst. The picture on top of the post will tell you, it was only better than the first one. As our train started moving out of Vienna, the title for this post struck me - Austria Conquered!!