When High Art Begets Base Impulses

In the opening scene of Neil LaBute’s play Fat Pig, the titular character is contentedly eating a large slice of cheese pizza at a luncheonette. Perhaps LaBute intended for the audience to be horrified that this supremely ample woman is unrepentantly enjoying super fattening food in public, instead of pretending to enjoy a salad topped with grilled chicken at lunch, and then later secretly grubbing on a shameful shoebox stash of Zagnut and Clark Bars.

After the play, however, we realized that this scene, rather than causing any feelings of disgust, actually inspired a powerful hankering for pizza. The actress manages to eat the whole slice of pizza as the scene unfolds, so our animal brains couldn’t help but respond with sympathetic hunger.

So, AK, myself, and our pal KCS decided to make our inaugural visit to Dupont Circle’s Sette Osteria, the cheaper eats offspring of Cafe Milano.

We started off with the Carciofi e Sedano Insalate, a salad comprised of “shaved fennel, celery hearts, and fresh artichoke with a lemon vinaigrette.” While the salad was pleasing enough, $11 is a bit aggressive for salad pricing. Still, there was almost enough for three people to enjoy without getting into a nasty fork fight. I love fennel, but am always disappointed whenever it’s deployed in a salad. It’s anise-like flavor is just barely present in its raw form. The celery made up for this flavor deficiency, as did the two small sheets of parmesan that we broke up over the salad. And anyway, if you’re going to have pizza, it’s always important to start off with a salad. You need to feel just a little bit virtuous after the appetizers to earn the excess of the pizza entrees.

We opted to share three pizzas. Unfortunately, the pizzas were initially presented to us without having been sliced. I was so famished, that my weakened brain convinced me that I could slice all of our pizzas at the table on my own. But my table companions’ good sense prevailed over my futile display of chivalry, and we hailed our waiter to make it happen for us. He actually seemed surprised at our request.

One of my all-time favorite pizza topping combos is the pairing of sausage and broccoli rabe. The bitterness of the broccoli rabe is a wonderful complement to the typically sweet and spicy crumble of Italian Sausage. Sette’s rendition of this classic, however, while appealing to the eye, is ultimately a disappointment. The broccoli rabe barely had any bitterness, tasting more like standard steamed greens. In fact, AK and KCS posited that the broccoli rabe in question might actually have been broccolini. The pork sausage was also surprisingly mild, the sprinkling of calabrese chili peppers likely intended to pick up the slack.

For our second choice, we wanted something toppings intensive, so we chose the Quattro Stagioni, which included tomato, mushrooms, artichokes, and porchetta ham. While we liked the idea in concept, I couldn’t help but feel that the cloud-like bundles of porchetta were a little too mild for my liking. Not exactly having a mastery of hams, I had assumed that porchetta would be a variation on the smoky and salty prosciutto. I guess I require that meat toppings on pizza exhibit some sort of dramatic spicing or curing to merit their presence. It must be the influence of all that pepperoni pizza that I scarfed at Shakey’s as a wee one.

I’m usually dismissive of the Quattro Formaggi pizza at other establishments. I’m not even willing to give it a chance because I always want tomato sauce and at least two toppings. But Sette’s version of this classic is far more complex than I imagined. At first, you experience the saltiness and nuttiness of the blend of grana and pecorino, and then you hit a sweet patch of the gorgonzola. And because you can’t quite determine which section of each slice features the gorgonzola, you’re constantly in a state of surprise as the flavors tilt between salty and sweet.

While Sette Osteria was somewhat underwhelming, I could see us occasionally popping in to share a Quattro Formaggi over a couple of beers. -AC