Watch yer back, Archie.
Although La Gastronomia has been serving up very reasonably priced (roughly $6.50 to $10) pastas -- all homemade except for the spaghetti -- and an impressive assortment of tasty piatti freddi cold plates and authentic Italian desserts for about two years, an open brick oven installed up front just four or five months ago has given the place a whole new pièce de résistance. Or pizza de résistance, to be more accurate. Resistance, however, is futile when it comes to Gastronomia's eight (ten, counting calzones) charcoal-crusted personal-size pies.
Sometimes basic pies can be spartan, but the simplest can reign supreme when, as with Gastronomia's Margherita, ingredients are superior: fresh mozzarella and basil, and superbly spiced tomato sauce. Like all the restaurant's crusts, the Margherita's is neither as thin nor as crisp as those at more well-known wood-oven pizzerias, like SoBe's Spris and Piola. But they're thinner than most all-American pizza bases, and their unusual baguettelike body and chewiness are as appealing as they are unique.
Another three-ingredient wonder, the Chef, uses the same quality mozzarella topped with a strong prosciutto and arugula. The bitter salad greens, thrown on after baking, beautifully counterbalance the dried meat's intense saltiness. The vegetarian Primavera (arugula, Parmesan, fresh tomatoes) uses arugula just as appealingly as a foil for Parmesan's pungency, though I would have preferred mozzarella, too, for its texture.
Of the two most elaborate pizzas, the Capricciosa (mozzarella, tomato, mushroom, ham, artichoke, and olive) and the Siciliana (fresh tomatoes, anchovies, capers, imported olives, and a respectable brand of olive-oil-packed Italian tuna), the latter obviously is Gastronomia's superstrength pie when it comes to concentrated flavor -- so strong, in fact, that I'd suggest the optional mellowing influence of dairy, even though purist pizzophiles would never combine fish and cheese. Choice of cheese (an extra buck, assuming you go for it) on this pizza is naturally a personal preference call, but, as a result of an interesting but odd default Emmentaler experience, I'd strongly recommend you specify mozzarella.
Beer can't be beat as an accompaniment to American-style pizzas, but with Italian one naturally wants Italian plonk, and here La Gastronomia astonishes, pricewise. A light, refreshing prosecco is $19. And a Vino Nobile di Montepulciano (a red some find at least equal in velvety smoothness to the more famous Brunello from nearby Montalcino) for $27 is unbelievable for a discount liquor store, much less a restaurant. To finish save space for the mango tart with buttery walnut crust. Authentically Italian? No. Just truly tasty.
