Liège has no shortage of pizza on offer, it must be said. There are some bad pizzas, a lot of passable pizzas, some pretty good pizzas, and then there's this place. Il Pomodoro Romano.
It must also be said that Tchantches and I are well travelled, and are fans of pizza. We have eaten so very many pizzas, in so very many places around the world (including several places in Italy.) We are rarely as impressed as we were the other day when we stumbled across Il Pomodoro Romano, on the pedestrian-only street of Rue St. Paul, not far from the Place des Carmes.
We were walking toward our planned dinner destination when I stopped abruptly outside this place, looking inside. At first sight, Tchantches was skeptical, looking at the brightly lit red and white interior of the lower level. It looked kind of like what the Liègois call a "snack" (a place where low grade overcooked pastas, pizzas, kebabs, or sandwiches are eaten, generally by students.)
But it wasn't the decor that had caught my eye as we'd walked by... it was the sight of the pizzas that had stopped me dead in my tracks. They looked very much more traditionally Italian than any others I have seen in the Liège region (this is saying a lot given that Liège has a large number of Italian restaurant owners.)
Not the least bit shy I walked right in and stuck my face close to the glass shielding the pizzas from the public, eyeing them closely. Tchantches followed me in and looked around awkwardly, asking the woman behind the counter if the shop had been open long. The woman explained they had opened in August, but added that the 2nd floor had opened in Mid-October. She explained briefly the concept of the shop, which is that you can buy pizza by the slice (the pizzas on the counter are traditionally prepared oblong pizzas, much like I had seen already in Rome,) or they'll make you a round one to-order either for takeaway or to eat there. She offered us a free taste of any pizza that caught our eye, and I decided to see if these rather Roman looking pizzas actually tasted like Roman pizzas, choosing the "Margherita."
While heating up a square, the woman explained that she and her husband had decided to take their idea of opening an authentic Italian pizza and pasta place as far as they could, and so they went to a pizzaiolo school in Rome to learn the finer points of pizza. She explained that the flour used in the doughs are imported from Italy, and all the ingredients used are of European provenance. I probed further and was happy to hear that the place takes a very hands on approach, making not only their pizza doughs but also their pastas and sauces fresh from scratch onsite. At this moment in our conversation, the square came out of the oven and was cut into pieces. Tchantches, still looking skeptical took a piece of it along with me.
It was good. The crust, the sauce, the fresh basil, and the taste of excellent quality olive oil. It was so good in fact that I decided to take a chance and spontaneously changed our dinner plans. I asked if it might be possible to eat on the second level and the woman obliged happily, showing us the way up a small metal staircase, and coming up after us to turn on the lights in the space.
Tchantches admitted once we were alone on the 2nd floor sipping our beers that the sample he'd eaten was good, but he still wondered what exactly I had gotten us into, hijacking our dinner plans.
The 2nd floor decor is sparse, though there are the smallest beginnings of some charming references to the culinary traditions of Italy, with two small olive trees growing near the windows along with a few other touches. Tchantches, being a guy who likes his "ambiance", looked worried. I pointed out to him that both of us have had some amazing food in other similarly unassuming places, and even in places that to the eye look like holes in the wall, and he grudgingly agreed. I suggested that perhaps they were adding to the place as they went along and as the business got going. We came to the conclusion that either dinner would be a huge bellyflop or that this humble little place might actually live up to the explanation the woman behind the counter had given us. We decided to put both the pizza and pasta to the test. Tchantches decided on the canneloni maison, and I on the round pizza with sweet squash and bacon chunks. Sadly when we passed our orders we discovered that they were not available. The woman explained that they'd sold out of a few things the day or two before and hadn't yet replenished everything. Fair enough... it was the 2nd of January, and I imagine a pizza and pasta place located where this one is might get hit pretty hard on New Year's Eve.
In the end Tchantches took the round pizza "Melanzane", asking for the addition of peppers, and I went for the round "Quatro Formaggi".
And they were sooo goooood. My pizza didn't skimp on the cheese, but didn't have too much as to overwhelm the dough. Little pops of rosemary perfectly complimented the balance between the 4 cheeses. Most importantly, I could taste all 4 of the cheeses, the crust and the herbs. That's not an easy balance to acheive (which was exactly why I'd ordered it.) Tchantches, who never eats his crusts, was eating them all, and *loved* his pizza. We exchanged a slice between us and while he was very impressed with mine, his was the revelation for me.
WOW. It was perfect. For a moment I was transported back to Italy. The eggplant slices on his pizza were the thinnest and most flavourful eggplant-anything I've ever had in Liège. The only other place I've had eggplant (aubergine to some of you,) that tasted that good was on an eggplant parmigiana sandwich from a place far, far from here, that has (with good reason) been in business for more than 50 years. And the peppers Tchantches had asked for? The owner had made the clever choice of thinly shaved strips of yellow pepper all over the pizza, and they complimented the pizza so well, like little pops of sunshine both visually and flavour-wise. This place is most certainly not using the quasi-tasteless produce found in most grocery stores this time of year. Clearly they are going to the effort (as they lady said,) of sourcing the best they can find at every step.
In fact, there is nothing about this place other than the pizzas in on the counter themselves that offers the immediate indication of how good the food is. The decor doesn't, and the prices don't either since they're completely in line with what one might expect to pay for a middle-of-the-road pizza in Liège. A square slice for those in a hurry costs around €2, depending on which variety of pizza you take. I paid €8.90 for my pizza, and Tchantches paid €10.40 for his. He went home feeling like he'd eaten too much (he'd eaten his entire pizza, crusts and all,) and I was full after half of mine! Fortunately there is no trouble here in asking them to box up the rest of your meal, I was happily obliged, and I'm happy to report that even day-old, this pizza still has a delicious crust that hasn't dried out or become ridiculously tough overnight, and is delicious either cold or hot.
Needless to say we are giddy about our new discovery, and will be going back to try the pasta, the wine, and to sneak a few photos.
While we both heaped praise on the woman (who is actually the co-owner with her husband who wasn't there,) Tchantches did offer the critique that he had made of the mistake of "judging the book by the cover", trying to express to her in his own awkward fashion that he felt maybe with the store-front they have that they wouldn't attract the part of the market that might most appreciate their food and become a loyal customer base (people who will willingly stray from their local pizza place for this level of quality.) Indeed, it's my concern too. While it's true that it takes awhile for a new business to find it's footing, develop a loyal base of clientele and so on, it's also true that it's very difficult to be an independent business in Belgium right now. I'm not sure that the students of Liège will ultimately be what keeps these guys afloat, and I'm not sure that the plain appearance of Il Pomodoro Romano will be what convinces those in search of quality that quickly enough that this is where they can score some authentic Italian flavour. For now, it is a diamond in the rough.
This said, Il Pomodoro Romano definitely deserves to stick around, and I'm guessing that if they do, it'll be word-of-mouth that does the trick. Get it while it's hot!
