Sara Govero
Google
Welcome to the carb carnival. Next stop on our food tour, daring you to try just one more slice after your pants have already waved the white flag. This is no ordinary pizza place, it’s a forno, which is Italian for oven. Naturally, someone here looked at the bread, looked at the toppings, and said, Yes, this shall be pizza now.
We kicked things off with the Margherita, the classy queen of pizzas, literally. Named after Queen before Italy decided to liberate itself, this was your classic tomato-mozzarella-basil situation. Red, Green and White like the Italian Flag. Regal. Nostalgic. Tastes like a monarchy that actually works.
Then came the potato pizza, which, let me tell you, was a surprise carb ambush. Like, Oh cute, a slice of starch on starch. Bread with potatoes on it. For when your body is craving a food coma.
And then came the Marinara, my personal Roman romance. No cheese, all attitude. Spicy, saucy, simple. Like that one ex who was too intense but kind of unforgettable.
Let’s talk style: Roman pizza is not your floppy Neapolitan mess that folds into a pizza burrito the moment it hits your plate. No no, Roman pizza stands its ground. It’s a little thicker and definitely crunchier. You don’t need to roll it, cradle it, or whisper encouragement. It just is. And I love it more than I probably should.
La Renella is where bread goes to find its higher purpose which is to be pizza.