Santarpios in East Boston
Nostalgia for the Best Pizza in North America
By: Charles Giuliano - 10/01/2007
Joya Santarpio, my former art history student, works in the family business.
Mitsu arrived early to help with packing.
Down the stairs and into the truck.
Loading the truck.
As well as the van.
The house was finally empty.
The crew posed outside Santarpios.
The guys in a booth enjoying a lunch break.
We just fell on the pies.
At the bar.
The pies come out of this window.
Some famous boxers and other visitors.
This is where they grill the sausage and lamb skewers.
http://www.santarpiospizza.com/
During that last visit to Santarpios Pizza, in East Boston, Joya Santarpio, my former art history student back in the day at Salem State, gave me a hug. Just like she always did over the years. She was surprised when I told her that we were selling the house, leaving East Boston where we lived for thirteen years, and moving to the Berkshires.
"You'll be back" she said. Well, yeah, fer sure. In my dreams at least as has been the case all too often. Haven't had a decent pie since the end of June when we finally emptied the house after those grueling weekly round trips of loading a truck and van. It knocked the stuffing out of us and we ended up in the Berkshires around the beginning of July with a sea of boxes to navigate.
During a visit to Hudson, New York, this summer we made the fatal mistake of getting a pizza at some fancy dancy place. I should have walked out on the spot when the menu touted whole wheat crust. Good heavens. And all these toppings from hell. Like new age pizza with goat cheese and arugula or some god awful stuff. Fugeddahboutit. The crust was tough and almost broke my molars. And it was expensive which didn't seem to bother anyone as the joint was packed with patrons. But, what do they know. They've obviously never been to Santarpios. Which is like having a Philly cheese steak in Philly, a Po Boy in the Crescent City, clams at Woodman's in Ipswich, oysters and crabs in Maryland, or a smoked meat sandwich at Schwartz's in Montreal.
If you want real Pizza, man, you have to visit Santarpios in Easta Bost. You get there by driving through the tunnel toward Logan Airport but hang a sharp right just as you exit. Then at the light straight ahead there it is. Pizza heaven.
It was a part of the deal I cut with our crew of workers. All starving artists in more ways than one as I found out. Rick, a Berkshire friend, hired the truck and drove it in. We rented a van from Enterprise. Got to know those guys real well. Mitsu arrived early or came during the week to help pack. Mitsu was great. Then he recruited his friend Mike to help with loading. And Jim worked on breaking down our computers and labeling the wires for reassembly.
On Friday mornings we worked like hell man. Rick was great at packing the truck perfectly. Nothing got damaged due to his incredible skills. In the van we loaded the art and fragile items. By noon the guys worked up a terrific appetite and the deal was we headed for Santarpios on me. Man they could eat. Just packed it in.
The menu at Santarpios is real basic. The pies are thin crust and come in only one size. The toppings are traditional. No pineapple and ham or any of that crap. Mike is a vegetarian so we always got one with just mushroom and garlic. Then one with pepperoni, or sausage and mushrooms, and one with anchovies. Jim wanted onions but I don't like onions on pizza. Some weeks I relented. Also Santarpios serves barbecue either skewers of lamb or sausage. We always got double orders of both. It comes with great fresh bread and hot bell peppers. The guys just fell on the food and we washed it down with rounds of coke. No beer. We were working.
Rick always got the leftover slices for the ride back to the Berkshires. Toward the end it was getting tougher to lure him back for another load. For the final trip I let him order a whole pizza to go. Whatever he wanted. I should have gotten one for myself and put it in the freezer. Man do I miss that pizza. But our next one will be ordered in Italy where we will be catching the end of the Venice Biennale. It will be interesting if genuine Italian pizza, like from Italy, the old country, stacks up to Santarpios. We'll see but I ain't getting my hopes up. As to pizza in the Berkshires? Fuggeddahboutit.