I was fortunate enough to have had a journal with me throughout
my first true Neapolitan experience. Whenever I deemed it appropriate,
usually after a long day of being beat up by Napoli, I would put
my head phones on and I would sit and scrawl until I couldn't keep
my eyes open any longer. Often I would wake up with my head in a
pool of drool and pen still in hand with the lights on at 4:30 in
the morning only to wake up again by the brilliant sunrise behind
Mt. Vesuvius at 6:00.
It's nice to have this journal to help me remember the emotions,
experiences, sights, sounds, smells and colors that I crossed paths
with that week--more specifically, my times with Mr. Enzo Coccia.
The first entry I have in regards to my time spent with Enzo at
his pizzeria, Pizzeria Notizia, goes like this: Before I get into
the f***ing insane day I had with Enzo, I'll finish yesterday.
That quote in itself sets the tone of my time spent with Enzo, f***ing
insane!*
*Note: I know that the language I'm using is not quite appropriate
so from this point on f***ing insane = passionate and vice versa.
The day starts as most days do for me in Napoli. This includes
watching the sun rise and then breakfast upstairs on the rooftop.
After that Joe and myself head downstairs to catch a cab ride (which
by the way was VERY passionate) to the pizzeria. We arrive a little
early and wait for Enzo. He arrives, we enter the restaurant, take
a few pre-game photos, Joe shares a few words and then leaves. There
we are. Enzo and myself. We know very little of each other's language
and with the aid of hand jesters we communicate just enough to get
by and shoot up the street for a morning ritual in Napoli-espresso.
He looks pissed!
Enzo & Brian
Back at the restaurant I'm wondering how Enzo and I are going to
talk. As this thought crosses my mind a stunning Neapolitan girl
walks in to act as translator for us. My prayers are answered. As
soon as she sits down, we're off! For the next 90 minutes Enzo talks
about the history of pizza. We start in 79 AD when Mt Vesuvius erupts
and covers Pompei. We then jump to 640 AD when a gentlemen by the
name Gaetano Fiorelli discovers wood fired ovens in some of the
ruins. In one of these ovens they found a 7 kilo carbonized loaf
of bread that was believed to be eaten by the Roman soldiers at
the time (pre Pompei burial in ash and lava). Up to this point the
people of the surrounding areas of Napoli have been eating breads
fired in wood ovens for roughly 700 years. Fast forward to the late
1400s when Christopher Columbus arrives back in Spain from the
New World. Along with him he brings potatoes, peppers and the tomato.
Being a time when Napoli was under Spanish rule these foods naturally
found their way there. However, it took the Neapolitans almost 200
years to realize that the tomato was not poisonous to eat. It was
not until the early 1700s that Neapolitans started utilizing the
tomato and putting it on wood fired breads with herbs. This time
marks the birth of the marinara pizza and the time when the first
pizzeria opened in Napoli Pizzeria Antica(1738).
Street scene in Naples
Another 100 years go by and cheese starts showing up. But this
is no ordinary cheese! This is a fresh cheese made with milk from
the local buffaloes Fiore di Bufala. So we are roughly at 1850 now.
This time marks the beginning of the Margherita although it did
not receive its official name and recognition until Queen Margherite
gave her official seal of approval in 1889. And this is where the
history lesson ended. Basically all other pizzas are one of these
two pizzas with the addition of several more toppings. All Neapolitan
pizzas ultimately stem from the marinara and margherita.
Before I go on I have to mention that recipes and techniques have
been handed from generation to generation for hundreds of years.
With that said we break out the ingredients and start to make pasta
(we call it dough) by hand using an ancient method. I just watched
as Enzo starts out with the water in a bowl and dissolves some sea
salt into it. Then comes the yeast and it is also dissolved. The
final ingredient is flour type 00 (tipo 00). This is added in several
additions by the approval of Enzo. Finally, the dough comes together
and pulls away from the side of the bowl. It's ready for kneading.
It takes a moment for me to realize that while Enzo is making the
dough he's not actually yelling at me. For example, Enzo loved to
say my name. He would scream "BRI-YIN!!" making sure to accentuate
each syllable. I feel like I'm being scolded by my 6th grade teacher
and have to remind myself that this is the way the Neapolitans communicate.
They are an incredibly passionate (see note) group of people. Speaking
loudly like they are yelling and using their hands as another way
to get their point across is completely normal. This is how everybody
talks, walks, acts, etc.
Enzo demonstrating his master technique
Kneading is a long arduous process where you're basically punching
the dough in a hand-over-hand manner that is making the same motions
of most industrial pizza mixers. It takes about 25 minutes and it's
not an easy thing to do. Ultimately we're looking for the dough
to have four characteristics:
1. White in color
2. Elasticity
3. Strength
4. Softness
Enzo is constantly pulling, cutting and slapping the ball of dough
on the table with all his might to demonstrate strength, elasticity
and softness. Once he feels that all these characteristics have
been achieved he turns it out and he starts shaping the dough into
balls. He cuts off a big slab for me to shape and this is my first
contact with the dough. It really is beautiful and velvety in my
hands. "BRI-YIN!" Enzo yells. He wants me to pay attention and try
to do what he's doing. I do it wrong. "BRI-YIN! NO!" He shows me
again and I do it wrong once again. Third times a charm, right?
Not in this case. This is when he starts yelling, I mean being extremely
passionate about what he's trying to show me. Over and over I'm
not doing things to his expectations and he's getting louder and
louder. Arms flailing he looks at me and says "BRI-YIN! ENOUGH!!"
And I thought he didn't know English.
We then started working with dough that had been made the previous
day. First we pulled it from the trays and floured it up. Enzo demonstrated,
I watched. After working the dough to a 5-6 inch diameter with one
hand, and one hand only, Enzo moved on to show me the next step
in the process. This would be the technique of slapping the dough
into the correct size to be topped. This is something that is quite
hard to do. More difficult than anything he's shown me yet. So difficult
that out of the 50 pizzas I had the chance to slap out there was
only one where instead of getting yelled at, I got a reluctant nod
of approval.
And that was it for day 1. Thank god I had Irene there to help
ease the pain. Over the course of the day we bonded and she really
helped me understand Enzo and the methods behind his madness. She
sensed that I was having a rough go and she helped me understand
that Enzo wasn't upset (he was actually pleased by my performance).
Irene then went on and explained that that's how Neapolitans are,
especially pizzaioli.
On the second day of my training Enzo beat me to the restaurant.
Once again we partook in the morning espresso ritual of the Neapolitans.
I could tell that he was happy to see me. As soon as we got back
to the pizzeria out came the water, flour, yeast and salt. This
time Enzo pointed to me and said, "BRI-YIN, PASTA!!" I started dissolving
the salt in the water. Once it had become one with the water I added
the yeast. As it was dissolving I asked if Irene was coming again
to translate again. He shot me the "get your hands off my daughter
you filthy American" look and I didn't bring it up again. I added
some flour and got my hands into the salty, yeasty mess that would
soon turn into something wonderful. Then came more flour and more
mixing until the dough started to pull from the sides of the bowl.
Onto the table goes the dough and I start to knead. As all of this
is going on Enzo is meticulously critiquing my work. After 10 minutes
of kneading I come to the realization that this is going to be another
mentally challenging day. Another 10 minutes go by and with sweat
rolling off my head Enzo stops me to check the dough. Almost there,
almost. Several minutes later I get the same reluctant nod that
I've seen from him before. The dough is ready for the next step.
I start to shape slabs of dough into balls with Enzo making sure
things are going right. I'm pretty sure that Enzo thought that I
was going to master this technique overnight in my sleep. Day two
didn't fare any better than day one. I could see a vein starting
to bulge in his forehead as he corrected me time and time again.
We got through it, though. I was proud of the several that had come
out correctly. Enzo was, too.
Brian checking a pizza at Enzo's
Slapping the dough into skins was next. As I mentioned above, this
is a hard technique to master. It took me months to master the stretching
technique that I use now, so I knew that this wouldn't happen in
2 days. I gave it my best and a few came out alright. Enzo seemed
pleased for the most part.
We took a break for lunch which involved taking a bunch of food
across the street to a bank where we made lunch for all the employees
in the basement. It was a weird experience that involved a security
guard waving a loaded gun around like he was some sort of cowboy,
but I'll save that story for another time.
Back at the restaurant we jumped right back in and started making
dough again. This time my energy was spared and we used a mixer
so we could make large batches. Once again we started with the water
and salt. After the salt was dissolved the yeast was added and also
dissolved. Next came the flour in big scoopfuls. The mixer was turning
and turning and turning sloshing all the ingredients around until
a paste started to form. "BRI-YIN!!! FARINA!!!", Enzo yells. Two
more scoops of flour were added. Five minutes later I start getting
dizzy from watching the mixer go round. Enzo stops it and pulls
at the dough showing me how unstable it is at this moment. "BRI-YIN!!!"
He grabs my hand and makes me feel the dough so I understand what
he is trying to get across. I barely pull my hand out of the mixer
before he turns the mixer on again. Roughly ten more minutes roll
on by before I hear my name again. "BRI-YIN!!! LOOK!! LOOK!!" I
look first at Enzo because he said something in English again. Then
I get my hand into the dough before he has a chance to pull me into
it. Not only is the dough white, strong, elastic and soft, but stunningly
beautiful!! I mean, if you could have felt this dough! Just amazing!
We started the next batch and after we added some of the flour
we started to shape the dough into rounds again. I can't tell you
how many times I heard my name followed by a sharp "NO!" Then I
noticed the vein starting to protrude again and fortunately was
saved by the next batch of dough needing some flour. I looked at
the clock and said "Sweet! Only one more hour to go!"
For the last hour we worked again on slapping the dough. Again,
difficulties arose. Enzo and I were both having a hard time. Me
with the technique, him with me not understanding his directions
(where was Irene?). As tough as it was, we both made it.
Matt, Joe, Jeff, and Brian enjoying Enzo's company at his pizzeria
after Brian completed his training
The days that I had with Enzo really were not some of the easiest
that I've run across in my meager thirty years. However, I have
never learned more than I did in the 16 hours I spent with that
great man. Speaking of passionate, I have never seen a person more
dedicated to preserving an art, craft or tradition than Enzo. The
reason he was getting so excited when I was doing things wrong was
because he wanted me to be doing them right so badly. He saw in
me in the short amount of time we spent together the same passion
that he has nurtured over the years--the passion of a true pizzaioli.
There was so much that happened these two days at the pizzeria.
Instead of boring you with every little detail, I just told the
story of making the dough. What I didn't tell you about was all
the times Enzo, Irene and I shared. I was hoping to paint a picture
of how intense this guy can be, not that he is a schmuck. He truly
is an amazing, caring person. I really cannot say enough good things
about this guy. There is no doubt in my mind that if I had the chance
to do it all over again I would jump at the chance to work with
this extraordinary man no matter how many times he yelled "BRI-YIN!!"
Napoli really is a wild place. I was fortunate enough to spend
some time there this summer with Joe. The time we spent was not
necessarily a vacation, but more of a culinary adventure and a cultural
emersion. We'll just say that instead of relaxing and taking it
easy we jumped right into the chaotic energy that oozes from the
great city that basks in the shadow of Mt. Vesuvius.
Brian and Joe inspecting the San Marzano tomatoes as they arrive
from
the fields
From the moment we pulled out of the airport you could feel the
controlled chaos that envelops the city. This first sight of this
was in our ride to the hotel. I had never been out of the country
up to this point, so I did not know what to expect. The last thing
that I thought that I would hear form our driver Salvatore is that
"red lights are optional." He wasn't kidding. Not only are red lights
optional, but so are the lines and the speed limit signs. Drivers
are true daredevils. They manage to pass each other at 40 kilometers
per hour into on-coming traffic while being passed by Vespas that
are intertwining themselves throughout traffic like speeding bullets.
This was foreshadowing for events of the week to come. Neapolitans
like to live fast, on the edge and life to its fullest. This is
how we lived while we were there.
Each day we would wake early and release ourselves upon the city
to absorb as much of the culture as we could. Generally we would
start with a coffee drink of sorts whether it was an espresso, cappuccino
or something involving hazelnut as the locals do. Espresso in Napoli
is an all day event. It is as much of the culture as the Italian
dialect that they speak. You think that Seattle-ites are coffee
buffs? They have nothing on the Neapolitans. Really!
Pizzafest banner
After the morning jump-start there was always something to see
or do, especially if it had to do with another integral part of
the Neapolitan culture--pizza. After the first day of strolling
through Port Alba (old Napoli) down the pizza-fanatic street of
Via Tribunali, my second and third days there I went through the
rigors of Enzo Coccia and learned about the passions of a pizzaiolo.
Other days of the tour of duty included attending the 10th Annual
Pizzafest, visiting the Caputo Flour plant, the local producer of
the famous Tipo 00 farina used by all Neapolitan pizzerias, and
visiting the glorious San Marzano tomato fields. And how can I forget
about one of the main reasons we were there-eating copious amounts
of pizza.
Through all the madness we did have a moment to breathe and experience
the Island of Capri and the wine country outside of Napoli in Avellino.
In both places we had some great lunches that included indigenous
local foods, including the smooth silky Fiore di Bufala and Pasta
Con Vongole.
Overall, the trip was a crash course in everything Neapolitan.
This included everything from sight and sounds to smells and flavors.
The Neapolitans truly are a glorious group of people that have a
passion for life that is unparalleled and seeping out their pores.
Being there was a life changing event that I will never forget and
hope that I can share what I learned with all of you!
Brian walking into the sunset on Capri
"Please send comments to Brian at: (bgojdics@tuttabella.com)"
