I remember as a kid that perhaps the next best thing, if not better, to pizza was a calzone.
In the neighborhood, House of Pizza and Calzones on Union Street was the place to head to if you were hankering for one. It was large, filled abundantly with ricotta cheese and mozzarella, and ham – except on Fridays in observance of “no meat” days for Catholics. One bite into the hot-crusted calzone and warm cheese just oozed out in melted, flavorful goodness. On second bite, the combined flavors of the cheeses mixed with the ham was, in my opinion, just too good to be true.
I never gave much thought to the origins of calzones, except that on Christmas Eve, between my Molese and Gaetana parents we made traditional palm-sized calzones filled with anchovy and sweet sauteed scallions and Gaeta olives. I never thought much about the dough either. My mother basically made it from scratch. We, the children, assisted her in filling them, deep frying them and eating them as they came out of the piping hot oil. However, much to my mother’s annoyance there would never be enough left to put out on the Christmas Eve dinner table if we kept eating them out of the pot.
My calzone bliss was pretty much all accounted for then, when my family finally visited my homeland of Italy for the first time in 1996. As we were strolling in piazza one warm evening in Mola di Bari, one of my Italian cousins unexpectedly invited us to visit a pizzeria where we could enjoy a panzerotto.
“A panzer what?” I asked.
“A panzerotto,” he replied. “It is our specialty.”
Ready and willing to eat anything in “bel paese” where our rooted observation about Italians in Italy was their amazingly insane love affair with food (which was thankfully passed onto us), we wasted no time in accepting his invitation.
Inside the pizzeria I saw the makings of a panzerotto in action. “Oh,” I immediately exclaimed to my cousin as I watched the pizza maker fill circles of dough and press them closed, “a calzone!”
But I was promptly and firmly corrected. According to him, no, it was not. This was an Apulian specialty, albeit various provinces in the Apulian region can make them differently, the region as a whole credits itself with the panzerotto. It was then I came to realize how territorial the regions in Italy are about their “cibo tipico,” the food typical of the region or province, because indeed, one taste of the panzerotto and I knew it was not a calzone. I saw my calzone bliss slowly fade away as panzerotti euphoria took over. The dough’s flavor and consistency, the sauce, the cheese all rolled into one beautiful “inside out pizza” as my kids joyously shrieked, rightly distinguished itself from a calzone – a food typical of Naples that is generally made with pizza dough and baked.
This explains in good part why Vittoria Lattanzio and Pasquale De Ruvo, both residents of Apulia in the province of Bari, decided it was time to introduce America to authentic panzerotti (Italian plural). For years Vittoria and Pasquale enjoyed their frequent visits to America, mainly New York and California. Whether they visited family on Long Island or toured various sites in the city of San Francisco, they were consistently confronted with the absence of authentic Apulian cuisine, particularly the panzerotto. They mulled this over for a while, tentatively considering to leave their hometowns behind and fulfill a dream to bring the much-loved panzerotto of their region to America. A simplicity of the heart-of-family cooking called “cucina povera,” where the panzerotti was born, family members all participated and cooked up panzerotti with leftovers or special ingredients for holidays.
With Pasquale’s experience as a café owner and Vittoria’s role as a food exporter, the engaged couple decided to take time away from their work and enroll in a pizza-making school in Bitonto, Italy (Vittoria’s hometown and where she and Pasquale met and fell in love) with an emphasis in making panzerotti. They spent three months in daily training, and a month before they were to be married, they came to Carroll Gardens in the spring of 2017 and found their ideal location for their new restaurant, Panzerotti Bites, at 235 Smith Street – former site of Hana Café Japanese Restaurant. They opened Panzerotti Bites on January 7th. Vittoria explained that while they knew it would not be that easy to open a business in America, to insure their success, they sought the help of consultants and employed the services of Export USA to help them launch their business as professionally as possible.
In Panzerotti Bites we have a chance to experience what one might expect if we walked into an eatery – or gastric bar – in Apulia. The atmosphere, while taking in a little bit of Red Hook vibe with their recycled wood counter base, shows off hand-made basket light shades from their hometown in bright and comfortable surroundings. To combat the question “just what is panzerott?” they have three framed posters that reveal where Apulia is in Italy, how panzerotti are made, and in case it’s necessary, how to eat one. All of the ingredients are imported from Italy and are proudly exposed through their glass-enclosed kitchen where customers could see the panzerotti-making in progress.
The olive oil, in particular, is imported from Vittoria’s hometown of Bitonto, a Barese-province town – the site of an ancient Messapian center not far from the Adriatic Sea – noted for producing some of the best olive oils in the world. The modern city is surrounded by a never-ending plantation of olive trees and has been called the “City of Olives.” Levoni is their choice brand for charcuterie. Imported from the north of Italy, the mortadella, with pistachio and no msg, is typically Bolognese and made in compliance with the standards of a strict production regulation. It is slow cooked with a delicate flavor that makes it highly digestible. Their prosciutto di parma, matured in the Levoni plant, also complies with the same strict standards of production regulation, and is mild in flavor and melts in your mouth.
But the true testament to Vittoria and Pasquale’s Apulian panzerotti is in the making of the dough. The durum wheat flour they use from their region (dubbed “the wheat with the golden tones of the Apulia sun”) is organic and leavened to produce a highly digestible dough with a supple consistency. Upon tasting, it’s immediately noticeable how thin, crusty and tasty the dough is, and surprisingly grease-less despite being deep fried.
When I asked them how they came up with the filling choices, they expressed their desire to maintain the authenticity and richness of their traditional Apulian panzerotti, but they wanted to respect the current American palate as well. In addition to their classic fillings – pomodoro, Barese, prosciutto and tonno (tuna) for example – they have added a selection of salmon with cream cheese, avocado and sesame and have even added “Oreo” cookies to their sweet panzerotti that is already filled with ricotta and Nutella. Along these lines, they are offering specials where herbs such as tumeric and nettle are added to the dough for their healthful properties, and coco and coffee to the dough of their sweet selections. They are also quick to notice that Americans enjoy some marinara sauce on the side for dipping, something that is never done in Apulia. They graciously accommodate those customers and will also make up custom fillings that are not on their menu.
Business so far is doing well, they enthusiastically told me almost in unison, even though they have yet to add wine, beer, espresso, coffee or Italian salads to their menu. They are confident that they have selected the right neighborhood to introduce their love of panzerotti with. Being quite young themselves, they could identify with gentrified Carroll Gardens, but also, they knew from their research and word of mouth that many Molese (Barese) immigrants had come to the Red Hook area to live their American dream, and they are delighted to see many come through their doors, welcoming and wishing them well, and giving them the chance to enjoy their beloved panzerotti without having to go to Italy.
Panzerotti Bites – “Born in Apulia, made with love in Brooklyn.” 235 Smith Street. They are open daily from noon to 10 p.m.
info@panzerottibites.com
3 Comments
Or you can Just go to the House of Pizza & Calzone on Union Street and get one of their classic triangular deep fried calzone like nobody anywhere else makes, they’re delicious. I’ve been going there for close to 60 years now.
Finally an Authentic Pugliese Panzerotto! Delicious!
I tried them on Saturday — and on Sunday!! They are absolutely delicious!