Via Tevere

Vancouver, Canada (The Joy of Food) — My only real ambition in life is to eat as much pizza as possible. Once I read a book called Where to Eat Pizza and took copious notes, like I was prepping for a dissertation. I keep a Google map tagged with pizza places world-wide, layered by location and color-coded on a scale of hot to not.

Toward the top of the hot list is Via Tevere, named after the street in Naples where the owner grew up, a place where the young lad no doubt saw a few things every single day: crime, a statue of Jesus on every corner, and lots and lots of pizza. Unlike picture-perfect Tuscany, it’s a slice of real life. And if you can’t find a life-transforming pizza margherita in the area, you probably ought to give up eating.

Half a world away, the pizza at Via Tevere is a thing of beauty and would hold its own against any pizzeria or street cart in Naples selling authentic pizza Napoletana. Rustic and simple, a bubbling margherita pie is delivered uncut which preserves the milky center. Yes all you “wet pizza” haters — this one’s not for you.

Just 90 seconds in the baby blue Stefano Ferraro oven creates a pizza with a perfectly leopard-spotted cornicione (crust) topped with sweet San Marzano tomatoes from the Campania region of Italy, milky fior di latte mozzarella, fresh leaves of basil, and a swirl of olive oil.

The nuances that separate an extraordinary Neapolitan pizza from an ordinary one are subtle, but important. It’s all about aroma, taste, and texture, and Via Tevere’s version is the perfect amalgam. The crust should have a certain chew and the wet ingredients — the tomatoes and the mozzarella — need just the right consistency. Over-work the dough, and the crust lacks the slight crunch and pull that I’m looking for. Apply too little of the toppings and you end up with a center that’s dry and lacking. Leave the pizza in the oven just five seconds too long and it goes from blistering char to burnt. If all I can taste is salt, you’re trying to pack an umami punch but are actually masking the sweet and milky flavors that make this pizza so great. Plus, I’ll be dying of thirst in about an hour.

When done right, the aroma elicits a memory of eating this same thing hundreds of times in the place where it was born. A pizza triumph like this is rare, but meaningful.

The price to pay for this glory comes in a lengthy wait since, annoyingly, there are no reservations and you’re seated on a first-come, first-served basis. That said, if there is any restaurant worth waiting for, it’s this one.