On the plane to Milan for a week's visit in northern Italy, my son declares that we should eat as much pizza as possible. He wants to make the most of being in the motherland of the savory pie.
We begin casually, with an apizz here and a calzone there, but soon realize that to maximize the experience, we need to add troops and specialize. We enlist our friends and book a table for eight at a pizzeria known for the depth and breadth of its offerings.
Located in the Piedmont region among hills dotted with cows just south of the Swiss border, it's no surprise that this welcoming kitchen focuses more on cheese than tomatoes. Down an alley off the main piazza in the villaggio of Mergozzo, the Fiore di Latte (Flowers of Milk) is named for a fresh day cheese similar to buffalo mozzarella.
The friendly young Italians running this neat and tidy restaurant excel at invention -- each dish takes a tasty departure from the expected. Plates are turned out with flare and style, served onto long white tables running under hanging Alpine images of cows and flowers.
The appetizer of Fiori di Zucca e Crema di Ricotta sets the bar high. Delicate zucchini blossoms, picked from the garden just before lunch, are stuffed with fresh ricotta (filled through a pastry bag so as not to stress the petals) and fried ever so lightly, tempura style. Served with a basil pesto, they are airy and delectable.
The first pie is elegantly artless: Marinara con Acciughe. Anchovies lie randomly on a cheesy surface between San Marzano tomatoes, basil, and oregano -- a simple setting that lets the tiny fish shine.
Pizza Vesuvio, named after the volcano, is a dramatic union of Napoletano calzone and Margherita. Half the pie, filled with salami, mozzarella and mushrooms, is folded over on itself, puffed up high and charred black on top. The flat half oozes with tomato and fior di latte, as if the molten insides are running out of the fiery cavern.
Pizza Fritta is a ring of dough, lightly flash fried into a crisp crust and heaped with sliced figs, shaved crudo and clumps of soft blue cheese. The salty ham pairs well with the sweet figs, which complement the cheese, a milder cousin of gorgonzola dolce.
The Cappello Del Prete (Hat of the Priest) is a showy pie. A rolled crust forms the rim of the priest's hat, and is stuffed with a pipeline of ricotta surrounding a centre of tomatoes, basil and schiacciata calabra -- thin slices of a Calabrian pork sausage. When the middle of the pie has cooled, a cut into the rolled rim still vents steam.
The Rotolino Siculo is a pizza for people who like it really hot. The entire pie is rolled up, its savory filling of eggplant, mushroom, basil, ricotta and fior di latte kept warm interminably in the longboat crust.
Washed down with several bottles of Sangiovese -- not a Piemonte wine but with generous tannins and acidity that make a good accompaniment to these cheesy concoctions -- the pies leave a good taste in the mouth, the prospect of a rosy afternoon. My son is smiling. He's gotten his wish.
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