Perfect crust, delicious toppings, quality ingredients — what’s not to love at pizza joint?

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This article was published 05/03/2015 (4151 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

I’m no maven on authentic Neapolitan pizza. My only truly authentic experience was a slice, bought from a street vendor in Naples, and I’ve had nothing like it since. It was strewn with tiny fish — wee silvery things, I remember — barely brined (if at all) and delicious; if they were anchovies they certainly weren’t the kind we get here.

Vera Pizzeria’s crust is how I remember the one in Naples, but only some of the toppings (none of which include tiny, silvery fish) could be called Neapolitan. But whether classic or creative innovations, they are delicious.

There’s not much one could call decor, but it’s a tidy and welcoming little room, its plain white walls adorned by a group of interesting prints. There are only 20 seats, so it’s a pity they don’t take reservations — Vera opens at 5 p.m.; by 5:30 p.m. on my visit every one of those seats was taken, and by 6 p.m. there was a lineup right to the door. To be sure of a table, get there when the doors open, or, possibly, much later in the evening (it closes at 11 p.m.).

Obviously the word has spread and local pizza lovers know a good thing when they hear about it. And what they’ve probably heard is that this appealing little place is doing everything right.

For starters, the hand-stretched dough is crisp on the bottom but not brittle, and thin, but still thick enough to be seductively floppy and chewy. The superbly light, fresh-tasting tomato sauces are made with San Marzano plum tomatoes (reputed to be the world’s best); the mozzarella is fior di latte (as opposed to the low-moisture part-skim cheese widely used in restaurants) and the other ingredients are top-quality. The oven may be electric, but the pies it produces are better than many I’ve had from coal or wood-fired ovens.

They come in one size only (about 12 inches), and there are 10 different toppings, all elegant and light, unlike the usual loaded versions ($11 to $18). The three I tried were excellent: the Margherita, lightly smeared with tomato sauce, dabbed with slices of fior de latte, Parmesan, fresh basil leaves and a sprinkling of Malden sea salt; the slightly spicy, fennel-flavoured Salsiccia, with bits of house-made sausage, roasted pepper, tomato and fior di latte; and the tomato-less Panna Pancetta with creme fraiche, pancetta, the house ricotta and fior di latte.

Other options include the Calabrese with spicy Calabrian salami; the rucola e prosciutto with arugula; the Napoletana with tomato, garlic, anchovy and olives; and the funghi pizza with creme fraiche and roasted mushrooms. There are also appetizers of crostini with roasted grapes, walnut crèma and gorgonzola ($4) and olives marinated with lemon, herbs and chili flakes ($4).

But I confess, much as I loved the pizza — which you can see being made in the open kitchen — it wasn’t my favourite dish. I suspect there’s an Italian nonna somewhere out of sight, in the back perhaps, working her magic on the fabulous polpette al forno.

There were four big ones — among the juiciest, tenderest and most flavourful meatballs I can remember, braised in a fine, clear tomato sauce and garnished with crisp crostini to mop it up ($10). Add the excellent house salad of Parmesan-sprinkled mixed greens in a lemony vinaigrette ($7, and enough for two) and you’ve got one marvellous meal.

Two desserts are listed: the tiramisu wasn’t available, but the luscious buttermilk panna cotta was, its satiny richness balanced by the crunch of nut brittle on top ($5 each). Service was friendly, deft and faultless. If I have a nit to pick (my only one), it’s the absence of any hot beverages.

There are a few beers and Italian sodas but only two white and three red wines — all sold by the glass ($7 to $9) or by the bottle ($29 to $34), as well as a Prosecco by the bottle only ($28). On the other hand, my glass of Valpolicello Ripasso was one of the best reds I’ve had in ages.

marion.warhaft@freepress.mb.ca