Antica Pizzeria Da Michele is what Padua was missing: a review

The Padua location is part of the Da Michele in the World franchise project, which includes locations in Italy, the United Kingdom, Switzerland, Spain, Germany, the United States, Japan, Dubai, and Singapore. The brand's website states "a thoughtful franchising policy that leaves no room for improvisation" and how the selection of raw materials and the training of pizza chefs are overseen before, during, and after the event directly by MITW (Michele In The World) company managers. The initial contract lasts four years.

In the Padua office, in front of the oven and at the head of the room, people speak with a strong Campanian accent, which suggests that supervision is in fact co-management, at least at the beginning.

My first impression of the service wasn't entirely smooth: I called several times during opening hours with no answer, but they called me back, which was quite unusual. After a failed first attempt (the pizzeria is currently always full, impossible to call at lunchtime to reserve for the evening), I finally found a table. A text message arrived on my phone reminding me of my reservation and asking me to accept a privacy policy. The day after I dined there, I received a link to leave a review on the same number; a bit cringe-worthy, a bit bordering on spam. [Editor's note: I read on Facebook that you can now reserve a table online.]

We arrive 10 minutes early, 7 pm, for the first seating (typical Northern European fare with kids), but even though the pizzeria is open and a waiter tells us to come in and sit down, once inside they send us back out and ask us to wait 20 minutes… we spend the next 15 minutes waiting on the pillars in the square.

Fried foods at L'Antica Pizzeria Da Michele in Padua

When we finally sit down, everyone is eager. The drinks arrive promptly, as do our orders: a tiella di fritti (two croquettes, a pasta frittata, and a slightly out-of-place arancini), a marita, and a Neapolitan pizza with Cetara anchovies and capers.

Within five minutes, the fried food arrives, looking and plating decidedly home-made, without the benefit of a sheet of fried paper: decidedly enormous, with a few breadcrumbs peeling off the coating and dotting the plate. The color, not particularly golden but rather dull, doesn't bode well, but when tasted, they're just greasy enough, crispy flavorful, the croquettes stringy, and the frittatas creamy. I'd order another plate if the pizza hadn't arrived while we were still finishing; it's a shame Marita has become a marinara; but they remake it in five minutes, with a thousand apologies.

Antica Pizzeria Da Michele in Padua: What the Pizzas Are Like

Let's get to the pizza, gigantic by Northern Italian standards, overflowing from the plate, with a nice, visible crust, but not one of those things seen in current food porn—a simple, Neapolitan crust. Tomato sauce galore, mozzarella dotted with spots, firm, and undercooked. When tasted, it's exactly as it should be: chewy and almost raw, melt-in-the-mouth and tomato-y; the Neapolitan kind you either love or hate. The version with anchovies and capers feels like the same pizza, but with a twist of elegant savory flavor, a hint of dripping. Good.

I really wanted to order the fried pizza, but I couldn't, due to the limited capacity. It's a shame, because I think I would have enjoyed it. And not even the dessert: babà, deconstructed babà, torta caprese, and fried pizza dough knots served with Nutella (a thing from Naples in the 1990s).

The menu, the prices, the place

The menu has an authentic feel, with a vintage yet unfashionable design, a nice selection of appetizers, a truly pop-up beer list (Nastro Azzurro, Raffo, Peroni, and house beer), a wine list of five wines, all Venetian (just because we're in Padua), and 21 pizzas, ranging from €8 (the marinara) to €13.50, with a single occurrence of €6.50 for the mini pizza, which is actually the size of a regular pizza here in the North. As for the pizza types, they're all grill-free: the first five are variations on the Margherita and Marinara; then the Cosacca, with pecorino cheese instead of mozzarella; the sausage and broccoli rabe; the classic Capricciosa, calzone, and prosciutto and mushrooms. There's only one special pizza, if you want to show off, but ask the pizza chef because it changes every month. From the menu, it's obvious that they use seed oil, not olive oil, on the pizzas, yet it fits perfectly. The atmosphere is too: a mix of velvet armchairs, giant mozzarella and cherry tomatoes, and motivational neon pizza-themed signs.

We left feeling full and quite satisfied: such a "Neapolitan" pizza hadn't yet arrived here in the easternmost Northeast, and we missed it. The night passed with a few more glasses of water than usual, but it was worth it.

Opinion

At its franchise location in Padua, Pizzeria da Michele brings authentic Neapolitan pizza to the far northeast, without the modern frills and without too many compromises. The ambiance, design, and service are consistent with the brand that began its history on the outskirts of Padua in the early 1800s. Aside from a few logistical issues that need revising, the place is worth a visit.

PRO

• A real Neapolitan pizza that makes you feel outside the trendy circles: big, a little rough, with seed oil and strong flavours.
• A perfectly chewy and melt-in-your-mouth dough.

AGAINST

• The service still needs to be run in after the recent opening, both for reservations and orders.
• It's certainly not a light and digestible pizza, but that's not what you come here for.