A Million Miles from Mundane

Written By: Luke Osteen | Issue: 2019/11 - November

When you consider “Bistro,” your mind conjures images of intimate tables surrounded by evocative art, with magnificent servers prowling the dining  room with a cat’s innate grace. The food is fresh and simple in its list of ingredients, prepared practically before your eyes.

Which brings us to the just-arrived Four65, the Wood-Fire Bistro at the heart of downtown Highlands.

The interior is evocative of its 20th century antecedents. It’s adorned with art, and the particulars of the table recall the touches of Art Deco that cropped up in those bistros in the 1920s and 30s – just look at the serving dishes, and the black stainless steel flatware could have been envisioned by a fabulist like Man Ray. And though surrealism has never been my cup of fur, I’d wager that the whimsical salt and pepper shakers must be a sly wink to Jean Cocteau.

(For a modernist joke that would have made Cocteau chuckle, ask your server where the restaurant obtained those salt and pepper shakers.)

And all of that design flair is in obeisance to the set of wood-fired ovens at the back of the restaurant. These are modern glories built upon designs created back in Naples, when the first pizzas were being shaped. They and the dazzling illuminated onyx bar give the place an energy that’s all its own.  

We started with Wood-Fired (naturally)  Brussels Sprouts, a herculean Caesar Salad, Margherita Pizza, and a Cast Iron Wood-Fired Grilled Cheese Sandwich.

And bread! Now I’ve written on and on about my life in San Francisco, and Paris, and Pamplona in Spain, so you know I’m a bread snob (Tricia says, “An insufferable bread snob.”)

This is remarkable stuff. If I could devise a plan to show up every day and just order a loaf of this bread, well, obviously it’d kill me, but I’d die a happy man.

The Pizza is an elevated creation that’s true to its Mediterranean roots. The tomatoes and basil are grown in the restaurant’s garden, the Bufala cheese is processed locally, and the dough is kissed by those impressive ovens for no more than 90 seconds. These pizzaiolo, whoever they are, have obviously spent years refining their craft.

Let me slip on my Scientist Chef Hat and explain why a Neapolitan Pizza is such a different creation from its New York
style descendent.

When pizza began to be served in the Italian enclaves in New York City, cooks used coal-fired ovens to replicate that 700 to 1,000 degrees produced by those wood-fired stoves. 

As natural gas became more economical than coal, these restaurants switched to gas ovens, which, since they couldn’t reproduce those scorching temperatures, required a longer cooking time for the pies. 

Since the traditional mozzarella just couldn’t hold up over the longer stint in the oven, American chefs substituted shredded, low-moisture mozzarella. To make up for the altered cheese formula, American pizzas were served smothered in layers of low-moisture mozzarella, whereas Neapolitan pies are adorned with a light application of cheese.

The same Wood-Fire/Gas dichotomy plays out in the composition of  sauce as well. The sauce of a Neapolitan pizza is strictly tomato and salt (in fact, it’s the law in Italy). Again, that simple recipe doesn’t hold up under the longer cook time of a gas oven pizza. The sauce of New York-style pizza is a blending of tomato, sugar, and garlic, with a dash of oregano, perfect for a longer cooking time. 

See, those Four65’s wood-fired ovens ensure that you’re served authentic pizza, just like the individual pies that were crafted for Savoy’s Princess Margharita over 150 years ago. I promise you’ll sense the difference immediately.   

The Brussels Sprouts, surely the most humble vegetable in the Free World, were given flight by the careful application of heat, a light olive oil, and a judicious drizzling of garlic.

And since I’m supposed to be careful with word count, you might imagine that I’d pass over the Caesar Salad. Nope! This girl deserves her own moment in the sun. Again, it’s those wonderful fresh local vegetables, adorned with a remarkably light dressing and festooned with hearty slices of that bread (again, that glorious, glorious bread!) and served in a bowl that’s just this side of a bucket.

And finally, there’s that Grilled Cheese Sandwich. I know you’re thinking that there can’t be any new changes to be rung from this staple of a childhood lunch, but, well, here it is. Again, it comes down to basics – bread(!), carefully calibrated cheese, and the magic of a cast-iron pan that’s slid into a wood-fired oven. Somehow it works, and somehow it’s transcendent.

See how all of these simple foods served up with care are perfect for lively conversation? At its core, the menu is what gives Four65 its irresistible bistro charm. The place can get noisy, even raucous at times, but it’s heaps of good fun. 

  Of course, that atmosphere is curated by an attentive staff, and our server  Danielle was exceptional – competent, confident, and bursting with gentle good humor. She set the tone for the meal with our introduction, and she maintained it with the careful application of her craft. In retrospect, she was a wise conductor of what became a memorable afternoon.

Well, once again I’ve gone too long, leaving scant room for the desserts that we somehow managed to shoehorn in. I’ll just name them here and mention that they were, in their own right, showstoppers. I’m going to trust you to figure out if they should be a part of your visit to Four65 – Tiramisu in a Mason Jar, Cannolis, and an Apple Walnut Crisp that could be the Official Dessert of Autumn.

Like its  cousins, Four65 doesn’t take reservations. You show up and you take your chances! It’s located at 465 Main Street in downtown Highlands.