Pat My Butter

oh, delancey.  the hype, the press, the blogging, the lines out the door.  all for pizza.

which makes sense if it’s great pizza.  well, it is.

going out for pizza tends to be a casual experience, one that is more about socializing than discussing the food.  it’s inherently sharable, something that can sit in the middle of the table and be accessed by everyone simultaneously.  the word “parlor” itself suggests guests and social interactions and delancey lends itself perfectly to this purpose.

that being said, i feel comfortable dressing in more than jeans there (though, to be fair, i’m generally over-dressed for everything in seattle).  delancey juggles classy and cozy with perfect ease.  the windows are usually steamed up, as the two rooms (the dining room and the kitchen with a few voyeuristic bar seats) are perpetually full.  it’s warm from the huge wood-fire oven, and community tables dominate the dining room.  wine bottles sit horizontally, cleverly, on the far wall, and sexy light fixtures dangle from the high ceiling.  brandon, owner, pizza cook and, yes, husband of molly from orangette, is back at the pizza oven, hot but happy.

salads are straightforward, light enough so you can still eat a whole pizza, and excellent.  the jersey salad is lots of basic, chopped romaine, with a basic oil and vin dressing seasoned with parmesan and garlic salt.  the fact that it is so basic is what makes you want to eat a pound of it.  a salad of tulip-tinted, cut chiogga beets are warm.  cold, pink cara cara and blood orange pieces are tossed in, as well as mild, slightly salty housemade ricotta salata.  the effect is delicate and just-right.

will you have to wait for a table?  probably.  too bad – they’re busy, be happy for them.  just plan for it.  go across the street to the (admittedly quite lame) tarasco, order a mixed drink, put money in the jukebox (there won’t be music otherwise), sit on a saggy seat and enjoy yourself until you get a call that your table is ready.

i guess i should talk about the pizza.  i read as many online reviews of delancey, yelp and the like, as i could stand (”we had to wait an hour for a table, that’s so pretentious!” “one salad was $10!”) and couldn’t believe how many of the negatives started with “i had pizza in italy once and…” or “i used to live in new york and…”  they inevitably continue with how pizza at delancey is not as good as they had it wherever they were or how it’s not authentically whatever kind of pizza they’re used to.

why pizza must be classified as one style is beyond me.  what’s wrong with it just being delicious?  delancey claims only to be wood-fire, which it certainly is.  if you have to be specific beyond that, new york-inspired might be a good description, but it doesn’t mean it has to be an exact replica of lombardi’s.  anyway.  the crust is thin-ish, still with something to chew on.  it’s bubbly, with moderately charred areas, flavorful and resistant to sogginess.

toppings are restrained and varied.  there’s a simple margherita.  there’s a sausage, with generous housemade pork fennel sausage.  the cremini, with mushrooms, mozzarella, and thyme, is a bit wanting for the flavor the other pizzas present so elegantly.  more seasonal offerings might be something like padron peppers or nettle pesto, mozzarella, guanciale and chili oil.

nothing is dripping with sauce, yelpers love to complain, but that’s why you can taste the salt of the crust and the high quality mozzarella, and why you don’t feel weighed down when you leave.  as a general rule, a pizza per person is about right, and when they’re $12-15, why not?  delancey successfully pulls off a short wine list – they options are generally excellent, under $50, pizza appropriate, and from italy, france, and the u.s.  this may the only time you see me espouse a non-alcoholic beverage other than coffee, but for godsakes, try rachel’s housemade ginger brew, the ginger beer made in right in the delancey kitchen by seattle’s ginger beer queen (i’ve never claimed to be unbiased in my reviewing).

the bittersweet, salted chocolate cookie is a little crispy for someone who prefers cookies in dough form, but its real problem is that it’s not the meyer lemon budino.  i’ve been contemplating writing a whole post just about budino, a word i’d never heard before i went to delancey.  to call it pudding is to shortchange it, though that’s what budino is.  but the depth of flavor in this pudding is absurd.  it’s certainly sweet, but it’s the tartness that makes it so perfect.  the sablé cookie is pure butter, the candied pistachios just the right contrast to the glorious creaminess of the budino.  maybe it’s that the cool, silky citrus is the perfect contrast to pizza that is hot, crisp, and salty – don’t know.  i’m always to busy eating it to analyze.

perhaps i’m having trouble finding criticisms because the wine and conversation flow so freely at delancey.  but i think there’s more to it than that.