I think it was in an early issue of Lucky Peach where Dave Chang declared that there was ‘no such thing as bad pizza’ – a statement doubtless in support of his regularly expressed (and unironic) Domino’s fandom. It could have been on an episode of Ugly Delicious. Whatever. Far be it for me to put words in the mouth of Mr Momofuku but I suspect that what he meant was that ‘bad pizza is better than none at all’.
Bad pizza is a thing though and not so long ago in Ireland it was the only thing. I remember when Findus ‘French’ ‘Bread’ ‘Pizza’ set pulses racing in the frozen aisle and ‘fresh’ pizzas were gross, greasy things peddled by chippers. ’Real’ Pizza was something that happened on screen, like when Magnum would split a pie with Rick and TC at the end of an episode. I don’t think a Detroit guy was ordering the Hawaiian. Upon seeing (a pirated) VHS copy of E.T the thing that blew my eight-year-old mind was not the possibility of friendly alien botanists but the idea that kids could pick up the phone and have pizza delivered. Part of me still mourns the pie that ended up-turned in the yard – “plenty of sausage and pepperonis, everything but the little fishes”.
There were a couple of outliers — places such as Miller’s on Baggot St and The Independent Pizza Company in Drumcondra, both of which are still in business. Both also offer Chicken Fajita Pizza. Like that’s a thing. Nevertheless it’s not a hot take to note that we’ve come some way, from the very slimmest of pickings to what is approaching a tyranny of choice. Ours is now a city lousy with tourists and good ‘za. Throw a rock in the air and you’ll hit one or the other.
This is not the fault of Dubliner Reggie White but neither is he entirely blameless. I’m referring to the pizza here rather than the surfeit of tourists. Good Neapolitan pizza existed in Dublin before 2018 (Dave Holmes of Coke Lane was already an old hand) but Pi’s bricks and mortar opening on Georges St saw him (an avowed savant of the form) surfing the crest of a popularity wave that had already engulfed London, a full decade after Roberta’s in Bushwick invented Brooklyn and hot honey on pizza. That place was fun times until it wasn’t. That’s just the way of things.
Fast-forward to present-day Dublin and the dogs on the street have opinions on New Haven thin-crusts, grandma slices, when to ‘party-cut’ or go al taglio, the whole nine. It’s all to the good. The place that gave us the term fascism also gifted us this most democratic dish. I’m referring to Italy here rather than the U.S. In our golden age of pizza plurality you can (within a two hundred metre radius) now get Detroit-style pan-pizza from Doom, Roman pinsa from Mani and New York slices from Bambino. Let me be clear — the Neapolitan style is for me the ne plus ultra of pizza (and Anthony Mangieri’s the best I’ve ever eaten). This is not to decree that other styles should not exist, only that my forever choice would be a wood-fired Margherita draped with five or six good, tense anchovies. You do you, there’s a pizza out there for everyone.
Many appear to have found theirs at Reggie’s, the namesake place that Mr White opened in Rathmines about a year ago following a stint in Blackrock’s Little Forest and a consulting role for Bambino. It’s housed in the handsome, high-widowed space previously occupied by Sprezzatura and Flaneur, with the space done-over by AB Projects.
It’s smart and modern and probably looks better without people cluttering it up. The people (mere days after the Auld Lang Synes) are not the mildew-scented bedsit-dwelling students of my Rathmines days. These are middle-class (creatively) professional types ‘grabbing some dinner’ with their artfully unkempt children. Bully for everyone.
The menu is a masterclass in concision, sourcing and execution. You can’t miss. From the snacks Ricotta Meatballs are tender, yielding and delicious. Cacio e Pepe Arancini with parmesan custard are excellent too, although I’d like a more reckless hand with the pepe. It should catch the back of your throat. Order the Crispy (sic) Ballymakenny potatoes for the table and wait for the reactions when they’ve been dredged through that ‘cannonata’ aioli.
Dough is worked up with flour from (renowned British millers) Wildfarmed and given a 48-hour ferment to produce an extraordinarily flavoursome crust. This is a hybrid-style pizza that pulls off the trick of feeling relatively light without seeming insubstantial. A pleasing chew at the centre of the pie resolves outward to a crisp, thick cracker like cornicione. You can pick a piece up like a NY slice and direct it to your pie-hole without needing to employ the tip-flip. It is by anybody’s definition or preference superb.
A Bacon and Pineapple number hums with the there and gone sting of fresh jalapeño. The bacon is from Crowe’s, the fior di latte from Toonsbridge, and the result is sensational. Another specimen with Andarl Farm sausage alongside Provolone and Tropia onions is just as good. You could swerve the pizza altogether and make an excellent dinner of those snacks and the well-made salads. Don’t though.
Finish by sharing the chocolate mousse – anointed with a decent belt of good, grassy olive oil – it’s a call-back to White’s Pi days. Service is young and eager and there’s a list of well-chosen wines and beers. It is the restaurant that you wish was in your neighbourhood, whether you care to admit it or not. I suppose you could always start searching for a bed-sit.
As we all know Rathmines giveth and Rathmines taketh away. With Reggie’s the D6 denizens’ cups now runneth over but just 18 months ago there was much gnashing of teeth and rending of garments at the closure of beloved neighbourhood pizzeria Manifesto. I never had the pleasure but have forever conflated it in my head with another pizza place called Credo that used to be on Montague St. It’s a belief thing. Thankfully for the faithful you can’t keep a good pizzaiolo down and Lucio Paduano has returned triumphant with a new joint called La Strada on Aungier St.
The wheeze here is that the narrow space has been designed outside-in so the room resembles an outdoor terrace on a cobbled Napoli side-street. There are lace-curtained windows with pretty shutters and it’s really quite transporting. It also feels a little like a set-up from an episode of The Rehearsal but without the creeping sense of dread.
This place is serious about sourcing and provenance too, but in a distinctly Italian way. I ordered the Carminuccio a little while back at lunchtime on a quiet week-day and it bordered on transcendent. It had Lucano Black Pig pancetta and a tomato sauce that tasted like preserved sunshine. This is as good as Neapolitan pizza (cooked in an electric oven) gets. It’s the most fun you’ve had up an alleyway since you were a teenager.
Valentine’s day is just around the corner – bring your sweetheart and show them a good time. Almost infinite in iteration, almost all things to almost all men, and women, pizza’s for lovers. Pizza is per tutti.
Words: Conor Stevens
Photographs: Killian Broderick
223 Rathmines Rd Lwr, Dublin 6
10a Aungier St. Dublin 2
