Pupatella the Neapolitan pizza cart is an otherworldly experience. Then again, how else can you explain the authentic street foods of Naples making an appearance in the urban village of Ballston?
The street cart is only open two days a week, and luckily I was home from work in order to make the much needed lunch-time pilgrimage. I received my prize and began a mad dash home mumbling to myself Sméagol style about my precious. After bolting the door, I pried open the box, fully expecting a Nazis in Raiders of the Lost Ark type moment, the pizza my Ark of the Covenant. Fortunately, I basked in the sweet smells of sauce and buffalo mozzarella whereas *spoiler* the Nazis had their faces melted. (Pretty sure I got the better end of that one.)
When I bit in, the world was zen. The sauce was perfectly balanced, sweet, but not so sweet that I wouldn't be willing to drink it straight from a jar. The crust was crunchy and crisp with just enough salt. And the mozzarella? I don't know what's left to be said. All I know if there was such a thing as a pizza zombie, feasting on Pupatella instead of brains, I'm pretty sure I'd sign myself up to become one.
Evan: A
When I bit in, the world was zen. The sauce was perfectly balanced, sweet, but not so sweet that I wouldn't be willing to drink it straight from a jar. The crust was crunchy and crisp with just enough salt. And the mozzarella? I don't know what's left to be said. All I know if there was such a thing as a pizza zombie, feasting on Pupatella instead of brains, I'm pretty sure I'd sign myself up to become one.
Evan: A
