Stacking Boston's Killer Crusts
Issue date: 11/12/09 Section: Lifestyle
Pizzeria Regina
The booths are uncomfortable, but the pizza is worth the butt-ache.
Despite the fanny dysfunction, the original Pizzeria Regina on Thacher Street-owned by the Polcari family, one of the big names among North End business owners-has built a pseudo-empire on its tantalizing pizza, which, according to the restaurant, has changed little since the establishment's inception in 1926. The pies they hand through the kitchen's old-time service window are more accurately described as circular concertos
on a plate. The thin, doughy brown edge forms a "crust-cendo" of taste.
Although the focus here is supposed to be about that special, hearty part of the pizza-that gnarliest nibble of edge-dough left after the cheese and sauce have already been devoured-it would be a rookie mistake to not see the "pizza forest" for the "ingredient trees."
Regina's cheese is nearly grease-free, a rarity for any pie, leaving only the taste of fresh mozzarella, pecorino Romano, or Parmesan on your lips, not a coating of 10W40. The sauce is smooth in texture, with a hint of basil and oregano. The tomato taste is fresh and has bright tones of acidity.
Now, on to the business end of this classic Italian treat: the crust. Regina's dough is thin but hearty, cooked usually to the perfect brownish exterior, and comes covered in a fine coating of flour.
The crust's outer layer is tough and crunchy, making it a satisfying chew. With hints of sourness, the interior's fluffy consistency is on par with any sought-after European bread, evidence of a seriously skilled baker who takes pains to preserve an old-world style pane.
For purists, this is the place. As the saying allegedly goes among beach town,club-going Italian men from New Jersey, "don't think, just go," to Pizzeria Regina's. Your butt might not thank you, but your stomach sure will.
- Matt Byrne/Beacon staff
Picco Restaurant
There is something magical that happens right before biting into the crust of a slice at Picco Pizza and Ice Cream Company in the South End. This moment is right at the point in which the sauce of a slice of pizza laps at the crust like waves of the ocean.
The booths are uncomfortable, but the pizza is worth the butt-ache.
Despite the fanny dysfunction, the original Pizzeria Regina on Thacher Street-owned by the Polcari family, one of the big names among North End business owners-has built a pseudo-empire on its tantalizing pizza, which, according to the restaurant, has changed little since the establishment's inception in 1926. The pies they hand through the kitchen's old-time service window are more accurately described as circular concertos
on a plate. The thin, doughy brown edge forms a "crust-cendo" of taste.
Although the focus here is supposed to be about that special, hearty part of the pizza-that gnarliest nibble of edge-dough left after the cheese and sauce have already been devoured-it would be a rookie mistake to not see the "pizza forest" for the "ingredient trees."
Regina's cheese is nearly grease-free, a rarity for any pie, leaving only the taste of fresh mozzarella, pecorino Romano, or Parmesan on your lips, not a coating of 10W40. The sauce is smooth in texture, with a hint of basil and oregano. The tomato taste is fresh and has bright tones of acidity.
Now, on to the business end of this classic Italian treat: the crust. Regina's dough is thin but hearty, cooked usually to the perfect brownish exterior, and comes covered in a fine coating of flour.
The crust's outer layer is tough and crunchy, making it a satisfying chew. With hints of sourness, the interior's fluffy consistency is on par with any sought-after European bread, evidence of a seriously skilled baker who takes pains to preserve an old-world style pane.
For purists, this is the place. As the saying allegedly goes among beach town,club-going Italian men from New Jersey, "don't think, just go," to Pizzeria Regina's. Your butt might not thank you, but your stomach sure will.
- Matt Byrne/Beacon staff
Picco Restaurant
There is something magical that happens right before biting into the crust of a slice at Picco Pizza and Ice Cream Company in the South End. This moment is right at the point in which the sauce of a slice of pizza laps at the crust like waves of the ocean.
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