Frontoni Electric Oven Review in Rome: Don't Call It a Pinsa, Handle It with Care

The first pizzeria is located at Via Ostiense 387, while this one is in the middle of the Appio-Latino district, between Via Tuscolana and Via Appia. Let me start by saying that this isn't my first time here, that I've never been to the other location (but I'll go, to see how things are done there), and that the area is teeming with pizzerias of various sizes. Competition is fierce, there's a good crowd, and I love pizza: in short, it seems like all the ingredients for a great Friday night are there.

But there are some things that aren't working. First of all, it's Friday night, as I've already said, and the counter is packed with just a few options. I chose my time carefully: as you can see from the receipt, it's closed shortly before 8:00. At this hour, I expected to see a crowded counter, but no. Maybe they do a lot of delivery? Maybe. The fact is, I ask for a Margherita and it's not there. Is it on its way out? Did it just come out and is it already gone? Who knows. This limited-time offer gave me the impression of a business that's not in perfect health, but above all, it made my experience uncompetitive with a thousand other places I could have found on the street. Or a bunch of hungry schoolchildren who just happened to be passing by.

The pizza here might, to a casual diner, look like a pinsa, that thing rumored to be an ancient Roman recipe, but actually a fraudulent modern invention. Frontoni's pizza is a thinner peel than the long peels of Rome's historic bakeries (such as Roscioli), a stretched, kilometer-long pizza that must be handled with care. The menu offers many seasonal choices and plenty of vegetable options, a true rarity in this field. The dough is crispy on the edges, softer in the center due to the toppings. It's cooked well, without any burning, but also without any notable bursts of flavor. The dough had already lost some of its structure, and the toppings weren't well-balanced or generous. The tomato pizza is barely noticeable, while the cabbage pizza is barely noticeable. I really appreciated the fresh oregano topping, a real treat. I'll close with one of the house specialties: the sesame and seed pizzas. I consider both proof of the existence of a pizza god.

The service is performed with great courtesy by the young woman manning the counter. When I ask, "Do you also make supplì?" she silently points to a sign on the counter that says they've stopped making fried foods since March 21st due to the rising cost of raw materials and frying oil. I mention this episode not to make facile judgments, which I consider absolutely useless, but to demonstrate the objective difficulties small businesses are currently facing. And also the responses they're coming up with to mitigate them: for example, crippling part of their production. Has the same happened with the number of flavors they crank out at a time? I don't know. However, there's a rule with pizza by the slice: what you put on the counter, you sell.

Meanwhile, prices are fairly reasonable: between €10 and €18 per kilo for some of the more elaborate pizzas. The place is also quite well-maintained, with some high seats inside for eating, and a corner counter—a concept I've never been entirely convinced by—which allows for a balanced selection of bread and pizzas, as well as pizza. As for beer, they offer both craft and Ichnusa bottles. One good thing definitely happened: I'm tempted to try the other place to see if it's more appealing and if it was just a bad night.

Opinion

A decent place for pizza by the slice in Rome, in a cooler atmosphere than the more traditional Roman establishments. However, the product and service management have their ups and downs, which don't make for a great experience. Worth a try.

PRO

• Sesame pizza!
• Customer-friendly environment and service.