José Velasquez, the co-owner of Moroni & Brothers Pizza Restaurant, crafts the eatery’s dough himself. The mounds—blends of flour, yeast, honey, salt, and olive oil—then get hand-stretched into crusts that Washingtonian magazine laud as “excellent canvases.” Upon those planes, custom combos of more than 25 toppings scatter, such as mussels and buffalo mozzarella, before baking in a brick oven. The result, raves the Washingtonian, is pizza with “more finesse” and “more soul” than its chain counterparts.
But pizza is only half the story at Moroni & Brothers. Rather than rounding out the menu with easily ignorable pizzeria eats or plastic food replicas, Velasquez includes zesty Salvadoran and Mexican specialties. On the Salvadoran side, the culinary team whips up tongue stew and sautéed pork chops, as well as El Salvador's national dish: pupusas. On the Mexican side, cooks stuff quesadillas with spinach and fill tacos with grilled fajita beef to add a bit of zip to a common dish.
Under the guidance of pie professionals Iris and Mike Wasserman, Pizza Stop's chefs handcraft batches of dough daily for pizzas in between artfully assembling subs, sandwiches, and pastas. The bacon pizza ($8.75 for 10", $14.75 for 16") rouses slumbering taste buds with a meaty wake-up call and the white pizza ($7.75 for 10", $12.75 for 16") eschews pigmentation for a savory, snow-hued canvas. Mouths can embark upon a Hellenic sojourn through the pita-swaddled chicken-souvlaki sandwich ($5.95), speckled with feta cheese, homemade ziti dressing, and tiny tomato Minotaurs. The steak-and-cheese sub ($5.75 for 7") quiets howling stomach sirens with a slab of 5-ounce rib eye and pastas such as lasagna ($8.95) toboggan down the esophagus. Diners can feel the breeze ripple through their knuckle hair in the outdoor eating area, weather and opportunistic clouds permitting.
The high levels of artificial preservatives and chemicals in modern pizza are the number-two cause of crow’s feet and dry mouth in America. Today's Groupon gets you $20 worth of fresh, organic pizza for $10 at zpizza, an oasis of natural, full-flavored pie in a wasteland of modern preservatives. zpizza offers bubbly pizza that’s safe for vegans, vegetarians, the gluten-shy, and snooty gourmands. Handcrafted rusticas join hot and cold sandwiches, crisp salads, and pasta on a menu full of organic options.A: Awful pizza. B: Bad Pizza. C: Crummy Pizza. D: Dad, I don’t eat pizza, I’m vegan now. E: Eat it, Stephanie, your mother worked hard on that pizza. F: Forgivably bad pizza, made by enthusiastic children.G: Gosh, this pizza is bad. H: Hey, everybody! I found an almost-untouched pizza on the bus!I: Insufficient portions of pizza. J: Just kidding, I’m not dying. I just wanted you to come over because I can’t finish this pizza. K: King Ralph wouldn’t even eat this pizza, and Wikipedia defines him as an “easy-going slob”! L: Lackluster pizza. M: Mediocre pizza.N: Not very good pizza. O: Okay pizza. P: Pizza (Italian, pronounced pit.tsa) is a world-popular dish of Italian origin, made with an oven-baked, flat, generally round bread that is often covered with tomatoes or a tomato-based sauce and cheese. Other toppings are added according to region, culture, or personal preference. Originating from Italian cuisine, the dish has become popular in many different parts of the world. A shop or restaurant that primarily makes and sells pizzas is called a pizzeria. The phrases pizza parlor, pizza place, and pizza shop are used in the United States. The term pizza pie is dialectal, and pie is used for simplicity in some contexts, such as among pizzeria staff.Q: Quietly hand me the pizza, and no harm will come to your beloved tarantula. R: Respectable pizza. S: Satisfactory pizza. T: Tony! Why come’a you don’t talk’a with’a fake Italian accent for the nice’a customers? U: Unexpectedly good pizza.V: Very good pizza. W: Whoah, who made this pizza, an angel? X: X-rays are a government conspiracy to increase your xenophobia and make you purchase xylophones. Y: Yikes! This pizza is so good it’s scary! Z: (see above)
From Mexico to Dubai, all Flippin Pizza locations share at least one thing: every 18-inch pie starts as a carefully kneaded ball of dough that cooks hand-toss until it forms a perfectly thin, airy disc. Several specialty pizzas take their names from New York City boroughs to symbolize their traditional thin-crust approach, and they arrive topped with everything from meatballs and fresh garlic to buffalo chicken. Pesto or blue-cheese dressing replace red sauce on a selection of white pies, and hearty calzones and salads are, like a piñata at a nutritionist's birthday party, stuffed with colorful veggies.
Finemondo brings authentic Italian country-kitchen cuisine to Washington, DC, in a warm, well-lit dining room that recalls the simple hearth of a Tuscan villa. Plunge into Finemondo's menu with hot and cold appetizers, such as the fried calamari ($9.50 for lunch, $10 for dinner), pan-roasted sea scallops ($11.50/$12.50), or mozzarella with melon and prosciutto ($8.50/$9.50). Traditional pasta dishes include gnocchi in a creamy tomato-porcini sauce ($17.50/$18.50), spaghetti and meatballs ($17.50/$18.50), and lasagna ($18.50/$19.50). Meat-eaters can whirl through the carnivortex with the braciola ($19.50/$24.50), beef rolled with prosciutto, pecorino cheese, and pinenuts; the bocconcini di vitello's ($19.50/$24.50) veal bites braised with white wine, cream, oven-dried tomatoes, and chili peppers; or a classic chicken parmigiana ($19.50/$24.50). For a captivating conclusion to these elegant exercises in Italian eats, Finemondo deals in decadent desserts, including the frutti di bosco ($8.50), which coats mixed berries with balsamic vinegar and is served with vanilla ice cream, and a crème brûlée ($7.50) with a Giuseppe Arcimboldo painting's worth of seasonal fruit.