The Gricia Pizza: Pizzeria Delfina of SF

Remember when I mentioned Spring poking its head around the corner in the shape of a cheese? And how the word fresh starts to have meaning again after the winter starts to fade into a memory?

In San Francisco, the restaurants all have a close ear to the ground, carefully listening for the latest, freshest seasonal produce pushing its way through the earth. The seasonal menus change so fast that your best bet is to read the daily menu or twitter feed and then frantically rush over there like eating there is part of the Amazing Race and hope that you get there before they sell out of whatever magic they produced that day. Yup, that just about sums up the typical dinner plan of an SF foodie. Or me, at least.

I should mention that I have since revisited my signs of Spring’s arrival after eating a pizza that highlighted the delicate flavor of fresh spring onions on the "Gricia" pizza at Pizzeria Delfina. Not the young green onions or scallions, but the more mature stalks with fat round bulbs like these. The second I stepped out the door after paying the check (and after scribbling an embarrassingly crazy note on the back professing my love for Craig Stoll’s superb pizza genius), I vowed I would drop all plans and leave my typing mid-sentence to get over there if I ever saw it again on the special's list.

It’s a humble pie, really—the unassuming kind that sneaks up on you as your dinner company catches you staring out at the wall with glossy eyes as you concentrate on its sneaky flavors dancing around in your mouth. Now, there is no tomato--it's a white pie. But, here is the real shocker--there is no cheese, people. No cheese!

Photo courtesy of nosaladasameal.(I had no camera with me when I had bolted out of the office to get my hands on this pizza, so I am so thankful for those who came more prepared than I did.)

Like all good pizza, it starts with the perfect wood-fired crust that bubbles around the edges—the kind that screams “we know what we are doing, here. And we mean business”. They scatter small shavings of salty guanciale and a noticeable amount of freshly cracked black pepper for a little kick and then cover it with long, thinly shaved ribbons of spring onions that roast in the high heat until they curl up and tuck into themselves. Then—get this—just as it comes out of the searing hot oven, they pour a small drizzle of cream over the whole thing, which melts into the sweet onions creating a delicate lacy sauce. Ping!

It's true, i like to replicate a restaurant dish when I can to save money, in the event that an oven that burns above 500 degrees isn't required. Despite my mom saying "quit spending you're money eating out" (we obviously have different priorities), I'd sell my personal belongings to shell out $16 to have this pizza if it came down to it.

That is all I can say about that. I just noticed it is on the menu today at the Mission location. I’m out.