Song E Napule has been around for as long as I can remember. I have walked back and forth past it countless times, never actually feeling compelled to give it a try. I could never tell if it was busy or empty and for some reason I never cared to look into whether it was good or not. I had dismissed it. Perhaps because of its main street location (right on W Houston), or because from the outside it looks somewhat unimpressive, or maybe because it just never came up as a go-to place for Neapolitan pizza. Whatever the reason was, it wasn’t on my list of places to try. And to be honest, I can’t really say what changed that, but through a series of events, we ended up in the restaurant and eating dinner.
I was a bit trepidatious, but reasoned that a place with an Italian name and a reference to Naples in its name* just couldn’t possibly serve bad Neapolitan pizza. The place is tiny, and I mean tiny. They somehow fit a crazy number of tables in the restaurant given how tiny the space is. It probably has 15 two-seaters, so 30 people can cram inside, but it should really maybe have 10 tables max. Ah well, makes for a cozy, get-to-know-your-neighbors type of experience. The place was packed, but really with so few tables it would be quite a bad sign if they couldn’t even get that number of customers. Though I will note that in the summer, they expand out into the sidewalk in front and allow for outdoor seating, which would afford a fantastic people-watching opportunity.
We were pleasantly surprised to see that many of the tables were made up of Italians themselves. I’m not talking about 4th generation Brooklyn Italians. I am talking about Italians out of Italy, speaking Italian amongst themselves, and also speaking Italian with the super Italian owner, who is straight out of Naples. Once we realized this, we knew we were going to be fine. Not to mention that most Neapolitan restaurants worth their salt offer the two classic Neapolitan pizzas: the Marinara and Margherita, whereas many lesser quality/less authentic Neapolitan pizzerias skip the marinara altogether, assuming it’s too simple for the masses. Simple, schmimple – that’s the whole point of Neapolitan pizza. The simplicity of it is beautiful. It loses its uniqueness when you turn it into a 6 topping, loaded pizza.
Anyway, in classic form, we ordered one Margherita and one Marinara, but added gorgonzola to the Marinara (less authentic, but it goes so well). Overall, delicious. The tomato sauce is fantastic, achieving the perfect balance of tartness and sweetness, the crust was well-textured and flavorful, and the gorgonzola was mild, but good quality. The mozzarella on the Margherita, however, seemed lesser quality, not fully achieving that perfect melt into the tomato sauce and instead having a bit of a rubbery texture. And while the crust was delicious, I’m actually not sure that I have ever seen crust so thick, so perhaps they’d do well to tone that down a little. Oh, and they gave us a complimentary Panna Cotta as an end to the meal (not sure if they just do this for everyone). Really nice gesture, but unfortunately a very odd tasting Panna Cotta and definitely not worth ordering of your own accord.
The owner is as personable as he can be and very eccentric. In the middle of the teeny tiny dining space, he would break out into operatic song, speak with customers, and just pace around talking… sometimes just to himself. He’d yell things (not angrily) on occasion. Nice guy, though. He clearly wanted everyone to have a good experience. Also, quite progressively, particularly given the rest of the dining experience, the menus are on iPads. You don’t order directly from the iPad – you still report to a server. But you can look at the whole menu, including associated pictures, electronically. And one more thing to point out. As I said, this place is tiny and at first glance it looks like there isn’t even a bathroom (which is against code if you’re a sit-down eatery, which this place is). But fear not, there is one. But in order to access it, you actually have to walk into the kitchen, through to the end, past all of the cooking, food prep, etc. It’s a bit weird, but at the very least you get to monitor the kitchen and there’s really full transparency. It’s hard for them to hide things in there given that people are occasionally walking right through and are able to see how the food prep is going.
Overall, I do like the place. We had a good time, had great food, experienced good service, and heard every bit of our neighboring tables’ conversations, though literally half of them were in Italian, so we didn’t get as much as gossip as we could’ve :). I would totally return if it were convenient to do so and a table were open, and I’d recommend going there for both the food and the unique experience.
*I’m told by the restaurant that the name translates to “I’m from Naples,” which had I known, would’ve made me feel better to begin with! But this translation is not backed up by words I can find in an actual Italian dictionary, so either it’s slang or it’s made up. Either way, it’s the sentiment that counts!
