the quintessential pillow crust

It’s possible I could have planned this better. Maybe called Delta to rework some flights and emerged with a minimal price difference. But perhaps that would have been more trouble than it’s worth. In any case, less than 36 hours after returning to Iowa from London, I boarded a plane back east. B and I were off on spring break and bound for Washington, DC. (Tomorrow, we leave for New York. I’ve been a little behind.)

I was shocked to realize that I’d never taken B to the best pizza in the city, 2 Amys, so we set about remedying that terrible oversight on Saturday. It felt a little eager (or obsessive) to be walking into a pizzeria at 11:30am — and seeing their homemade doughnuts so prominently displayed only intensified this feeling — but by noon there was already a line. Early bird, meet worm.

2 Amys is a local institution, and for about a year I was extremely spoiled in having a friend who lived across the street from it. We call in our order, pick it up, and walk out feeling quite superior to all the poor suckers waiting for a table. But then our school schedules and summer plans stopped coordinating and well, the world turns ever on. The fact remains, 2 Amys’s crust is perhaps the best I’ve ever tasted. The center of the crust — the bit that supports sauce, cheese, and other toppings — is extremely thin, sometimes learning toward the under-baked. And then the edges are massive, pillowy puffs of dough, some regions charred to perfection and always a light, chewy consistency. It is a singular, always delicious combination of the razor-thin with the doughy. For what it’s worth, 2 Amys is also a member of the Verace Pizza Napoletana Association, an Italian organization which strictly regulates what can be called Neapolitan pizza (and theirs can be).

On Saturday, we started with their bruschetta, slices of grilled bread topped with their tomato-basil ragout, which tastes just like summer. B had their hearty Abruzzese pizza: polpettine (little meatballs), garlic, parsley, and pecorino. I went with their Santa Brigida, a more traditional bent with tomato, fresh mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, and arugula. I think the best I’ve had, though, remains a specialty from this December: thin, long strips of grilled zucchini, cherry tomatoes and olive oil, with a mound of burrata mozzarella in the middle. Simply heavenly. But then, that’s the rule here.


One response to this post.

  1. Though it’s quite early in the morning, the images and titillating descriptions make me drool for lunch. Thanks for inspiring me – it probably won’t meet the minimum requirements of a Neapolitan pizza, but I’m sure my homemade pie will taste just divine.

    Oh, and Happy travels!


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