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Pizza in New Jersey is king. Actually, pizza here might just be the entire Royal family! We love our pizza in the Garden State, and we claim to have the best.
After all, New Jersey is full of Italian immigrants who brought traditions of Neapolitan pizza to America, along with pasta, sauces and other foods known to be the best in that region of the world. Naples, Italy, is the place where pizza originated in the 17th century.
Pizza joints in New Jersey have been documented for decades, and they are good. I’ve written many stories about scrumptious pizza restaurants, as have my colleagues on the food and culture team.
Yours truly, however, lived in Birmingham, Alabama, for 35 years before coming here three years ago. And in Birmingham, there is an Italian restaurant called Bettola, founded by award-winning chef James Lewis in 2008. Bettola honors the Italian farm-to-table tradition, and the menu is inspired by the regional cuisine of Campania, where flavors come from locally sourced ingredients.
During my time in Birmingham, my kids and I became addicted to eating at Bettola, and for a good reason.
The pizza at Bettola is indeed better than any I had in New Jersey.
I can see the emails already. I do love it here, but in all seriousness, the pizza at Bettola is beyond good. It’s that good that makes you close your eyes and moan, then wonder how a pizza can taste this good.
It’s just not fair!
On a recent trip to Birmingham, I ate at Bettola to make sure their pizza was still as tasty as I remember. I took a bite and I moaned quite loud, making nearby patrons look. Sorry, but not sorry!
While there, I spoke with Maria Ardon, one of Bettola’s owners. She told me about the ingredients they use.
“Our flour and other ingredients come from straight Italy, and we make our own mozzarella cheese,” Ardon said. “But the oven is what makes all the difference in the world. We brought that from Naples. It’s like ancient!”
The oven did look ancient. I watched them slide the raw dough in, and then a couple of minutes later, they pulled the pizza out steamy and hot. Inside, flames leaped from a pile of wood in the corner.
“We start firing the wood in the morning so it gets hot enough, then it’s ready by lunchtime,” Ardon said. “And the wood we use gives our pizza that hint of smokey flavor.”
I ate some more of my Margherita pizza while wondering how to tell the good folks in New Jersey that this Alabama pie is better.
I took a discerning look at my pie. The cheese was still bubbling, and the steam was rising. I picked a slice and folded it so it didn’t droop, then I took a bite, and the flavor explosion occurred again. The tomatoes, cheese and basil floated around like ballet dancers, elegant and light as feathers, yet lingering in their beauty and panache.
Ardon came by to see how I was doing, and I grinned, asking her if something else separated their food from others. Something illusive, like when you describe your momma’s cooking.
Ardon stared at the ceiling briefly as if summoning the answer from above. Then, she said with a heavy accent, “It might be some magic too, you know?”
If you’re ever down South where the days are long, the talk is slow and the iced tea is sweetened with lots of sugar, stop by Bettola in Birmingham. You may just encounter some magical pie.
Karim Shamsi-Basha may be reached at [email protected]. Follow him on Twitter & Instagram.
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