Local Restaurant Vingenzo’s Stirs Italian Nostalgia
I remember a little place, barely more than a shack, on a mountainside in Northern Italy. You wouldn’t even know it was inhabited if not for the thin plume of woodsmoke rising from its chimney and the scent of baking dough escaping from its door into the open countryside. Known only to the locals, there was no sign in front and no fanfare, but some of the best pizza I’ve ever had in my life. The inside was completely without frills…just two tables, a pile of wood, a man, a brick oven, and a collection of some of the freshest ingredients imaginable.
I dared not think of it for many years because that little pizza shack had ruined American pie for me. But when I was recently seated at Vingenzo’s in downtown Woodstock, this little piece of Italy was exactly what came to mind. To my nostalgic pleasure, I was seated in a cozy booth right next to the restaurant woodpile. With a glass (or maybe two) of the house Chianti and the Margharita pizza, I closed my eyes and I was transported right back there. The quality of the fresh mozzarella and basil was extraordinary, and they served it not in slices, but in the authentic tradition of a whole pie with fork and knife, each bite meant to be savored and doted upon. I finished the meal off with a scoop of gelato (Italian ice cream) and sat back to half-pine and half-rejoice in my luck. As much as I have always loved that little Italian pizza maker, I am grateful to know that I no longer have to leave my own town to enjoy a “real Italian pizza.”
