A rectangle, not a round
Order pizza here and it does not arrive as a round. It arrives as a rectangle, baked in a long tray and cut into slabs.
This is Roman-style pizza, and it is a different animal from the Neapolitan round most people picture. The tray is the whole point: it changes the dough, it changes the bake, and it changes how the thing gets eaten at a table.
The dough is the argument
The difference is time. The dough proofs long and slow and carries far more water than a quick round would. That is what produces the crumb: open, airy, full of holes, closer to good bread than to a base.
Baked in a tray rather than thrown on a stone, it comes out crisp underneath and light the whole way through. It holds a topping without going soft in the middle, which is the failure that ruins a slice.
How it works here
Nine of them on the list, each with its own name and its own price. Margherita and Bianca at the plain end, Prosciutto and Truffle and Mushroom at the other. You order a whole one; nothing is weighed and nothing is sold by the slice.
Which is why ordering two across a table is the move. A round pie commits everybody to one decision, and a rectangle cut into slabs does not. Put two in the middle and let people work along them.
It is on the dinner menu from five, and it runs at lunch as well.
