Restaurant Review: Al Taglio

Restaurant Reivew: Al Taglio by Emily Monaco

Pizza is one of those things that can send perfectly rational people into a rage: there are several different kinds—deep dish, thin crust, plain, covered with toppings—and every type has a camp of staunch supporters who are completely convinced that everyone else is wrong. In New York, we’re perhaps the loudest supporters of our own particular kind of pizza, and as a New Yorker with Italian roots, I should probably be the most snobbish pizza eater in the world.

In the end, it’s just not true. I can happily eat pizza from anywhere, from Chicago deep-dish to regular fast food pizza with endless toppings. I have my favorites, but I’m pretty open to pizza as a concept in general.

 I have to say, though, when I found out that the concept behind Al Taglio was rooted in something kitchy, I had my worries: Al Taglio has based its restaurant on the idea of pizza sold by weight—Al Taglio literally means “by size" or "by weight” in Italian—something that is done in traditional pizzerias all over Italy, but something that has not yet made it to most other parts of the world. As could be suspected, the interior of Al Taglio proved that this Parisian spot had tried to make the concept into something classy—the blue lights that descended from the ceiling and the chic Parisians who were posed at the tables seemed strange to me, who is used to the sale of pizza by weight being a marker of a cheap place to get a slice.

We invaded the restaurant anyway, and yes, invaded is the correct term for a party of four trying to get into this place, with only four long tables protruding into the section of the restaurant used as an ordering counter and a poorly devised floor plan (customers trip over one another in what has already become a popular spot in order to make their selections and pay at the register).

When we arrived, there were several rectangular pizzas in the glass counter, and we each selected our slices, which were cut to our preference with kitchen shears and heated in the oven. We later realized that, contrary to the custom in Italy, Al Taglio served pizza more as a sort of hors d’oeuvre than a meal made up of a slice or two: many of the tables around us had picked a few slices, which were then cut into bite-sized pieces and then tumbled onto a mini pizza peel that served as a plate for the entire table.

    The first round of pizza was less than impressive: we had selected a range of pizzas, from plain cheese to ham to eggplant and sun dried tomato, and the only one that seemed to have any flavor at all was the one with spicy ham and artichokes. We were all very impressed with the crust—the most perfectly cooked and flavorful crust I have ever had—but as far as the toppings were concerned, all we could think of was more: more sauce, more cheese, more flavor.

As we finished our slices, we saw a few more pizzas being pulled out of the oven, and, as full as we were, we decided to take another taste. This time, we followed in the lead of the tables around us and selected a few slices, each one cut into four bite-sized pieces: just enough for a tiny taste of each.

This time around, we fared much better: potato and truffle cream and ham, smoked cheese and pumpkin were the clear winners of the night. Both were flavorful and delicious—not surprising when the topping itself is considered, although the four-cheese, which should have been bursting with flavor, was surprisingly and disappointingly bland.

The key to enjoying dinner at Al Taglio is the knowledge that toppings here are placed with a delicate hand, something that usually would not bother me in the slightest, but it’s important to know before making your choice, lest you end up with a rather plain-tasting piece of pizza crust.

Al Taglio
2, bis rue Neuve Popincourt, Paris 11e
Tel. 01 43 38 12 10
From 11.20 to 26.40 euros per kilo
Opening hours: Tues-Thurs, 12PM-11PM, Fri-Sat, 12PM-12AM, Sun, 3:30PM-11PM, Closed Mondays

 Emily Monaco is an American student/expat from New York who has (hopefully permanently) moved to Paris. She spends her time in Paris seeking out artsy movie theaters, eating in amazing restaurants and trying to figure out how to use the Vélib.

I am pleased as punch to announce the launch of Eye Prefer Paris Tours, which are 3-hour walking tours I will personally be leading. The Eye Prefer Paris Tour includes many of the places I have written about such as small museums & galleries, restaurants, cafes & food markets, secret addresses, fashion & home boutiques, parks, and much more.

I look forward to meeting you on my tours and it will be my pleasure and delight to show you my insiders Paris.
Check it out at www.eyepreferparistours.com

Comments

[John W.]

Emily, cara,
Thanks for your well-written contribution. Actually, taglio means "slice" or "cut." You may have run into the French verb "tailler," which is a cognate--think of "tailor" in English, someone who cuts fabric. When you buy pizza in Italy "al taglio," it's what a New Yorker would call "by the slice." No weighing involved, as far as I've ever seen, unlike this Parisian place's practice.

[Juana]

This was one of the most enjoyable articles. I loved it because it was about food and her descriptions were concise yet detailed.

[peter]

If you insist on recommending your fav pizzeria, I must counter with
my own - in Paris. Mine is old-fashioned. Round pies, baked in a
wood-fired oven and smoothered with olive oil. It is a restaurant
where, obviously the wonevers are present nightly and all employees
(servers, at least) are, quite apparently, family members, if extended
famiglia. And they are from Napoli. What makes these folks (I do not
know their family name) so Frenchified (not "French fried"!) is their
collective grumpiness. They do not have that Italian joy (joie de
vivre), carefreeness nor general happiness so easily sensed everywhere
en Italia. Their demeanor is far more Parisian in this way. They seem
to care less about you as a client. So un-American and yet so, to me,
enchantingly ("enchantingly"?!) French. Abd their pizzas are the best
du monde as far as I am concerned. It may well be a classic,
well-known Paris eatery. In other words, I may not be revelaing
anything new here. It is Chez Bartolo, Pizzeria Napolitaine on the rue
des Canettes in the 6th, just off the rue du Four (and very near St.
Sulpice). I note that this very well could be a "known" restaurant
because a) it has flourished unchanged an iota since I was first
introduced to it 33 years ago, b) there is often a waiting line out
into the street (no reservations taken in advance) and c) the
clientele, by their looks, is marvelously eclectic, i.e. evening wear
from my holely (as opposed to "holy," god forbid!) blue jeans to zee
most chic threads imaginable (to MY imagination anyway). I learned
from Chez Bartolo, where I have never been gastronomically displeased,
that the two absolutely most fundamental and necessary ingredients of
a real Italian pizza is 1) olive oil and 2) it must be cooked by wood
firing. Neither of these factors are found in most American pizzas,
and almost never both are presnt simultaneously. Hence, my requisite
dinner out at Chez Bartolo every time I pass through the City of
Light.