Here for the Pizza

Written By: Luke Osteen | Issue: November - 2022

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hen Marjorie announced that Four65 was unveiling a new menu, Tricia and I, and a small coterie of friends were the first in line to snag a table.

And can you blame us? Since it burst onto Highlands Main Street prominence with its hypnotic wood-fired ovens and long, sensuous illuminated onyx bar, Four65 has earned a place on the upper echelon of the plateau’s dining ecosystem.

Of vital importance to our party was the question of whether those Wood Fired Brussel Sprouts had made it onto the new menu.

Playing with our emotions like that, Four65! But there they were at the center of the glorious Wood Fired Brussel Sprout Salad, looking for all the world like a nursery of Audrey IIs nestled among chunks of Italian sausage, caramelized onion, and slices of tart Jazz apples. What a symphony! (And it’s testament to the fidelity of the kitchen team that the menu delineates the vinegar that underpins this creation – Oregon Blue Pedro Ximenez 25-Year Aged Balsamic.)

But unlike my dining companions, I was there for the pizza. In previous issues, I’ve sung paeans to the Four65’s fealty to this noble ideal. Their 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 pizzaiolos, 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, while 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.

As a result, their finished products are masterpieces of flavor and, this is critical, texture. The pinnacle of 200 years of Italian culinary technique.

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, lubricated by the wise crew behind the bar. Of course, that atmosphere is curated by an attentive staff, and our server Kayla 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.

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 – Dark Chocolate Walnut Brownie, Apple Crisp (made exotic and memorable with generous helpings of cinnamon and brown sugar), Olive Oil Cake framed with White Chocolate Ice Cream and Poached Peaches, and Homemade Gelato laced with Espresso that’ll light up your palate like an off-balanced pinball machine.