Posted by Anita on 01.05.07 10:00 AM
Cookiecrumb over at I’m Mad and I Eat and Kev at Seriously Good have challenged one another to a mac-n-cheese-off, an ooey-gooey duel, a fight to the death on the field of fromage. Their chosen weapons? Bechamel, pasta… and cheese.
What is it about humble ol’ Mac & Cheese that brings out the competitive spirit in otherwise mild-mannered foodies? Last year, our old Seattle crew hosted a mac & cheese showdown, where no fewer than half a dozen recipes vied for the crown. And about a month ago, Union — one of Jet City’s top restaurants — hosted a citywide smackdown (mac-down?) that got promoted on local radio.
I’ve got a few favorite recipes in the files, including a 5-minute version that I make sometimes for breakfast, but no single concoction owns my allegiance… certainly not enough for me to want to enter it into public competition. But the eye-rollingly good version I serve to company — as a side dish, mind you — comes courtesy of our friend Wendy, the hostess with the mostest, who’s tweaked Martha Stewart’s recipe to the point of decadence.
Fondue Mac and Cheese
4T (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, plus more for dish
2 slices good white bread, grated coarsely
2 cups whole milk
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 to 1/2 cup white wine
1 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. each freshly grated nutmeg, freshly ground black pepper, and cayenne pepper
1/2 pound sharp white Cheddar cheese, grated
6 ounces Gruyère cheese, grated
1/2 pound penne
Heat oven to 375°F. Butter a 9×9 baking dish, and set aside. Place bread in a medium bowl. In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt 1T butter. Pour butter into bowl with breadcrumbs, and toss. Set breadcrumbs aside.
Fill a large saucepan with water, and bring to a boil. Add penne, and undercook by 2 to 3 minutes, until the outside of the pasta is just cooked. Transfer macaroni to a colander and drain well, shaking the colander to remove as much water as possible from inside the penne. Set penne aside.
Heat milk in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Melt remaining butter in a high-sided skillet over medium heat. When butter bubbles, add the flour and whisk for 1 minute. While continuing to whisk, slowly pour in hot milk. Continue cooking, whisking constantly, until the mixture bubbles and becomes thick. Turn off heat, and whisk in the wine, salt, nutmeg, black pepper, cayenne pepper, and both cheeses, reserving 1 cup of cheese for topping.
Stir macaroni into the cheese sauce, then pour mixture into prepared dish. Sprinkle remaining cheese over top, followed by the buttered breadcrumbs. Bake until browned on top, about 30 minutes. Transfer casserole to a wire rack, and cool 5 minutes; serve hot.
food boards, other blogs, recipes, Seattle
18 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 01.05.07 7:27 AM
When it comes to kitchen remodels, no news is good news. Our contractor’s crew of Irish lads has been rapidly turning the old kitchen into a pile of rubble and debris, and — contrary to our worst fears — there was nothing evil lurking within our 85-year-old house’s walls, floors, or ceilings. Let’s celebrate!
As we stood in the beer aisle, contemplating which six-pack to buy for our demo crew (so that they can toast a good week’s work today, too), Cameron veoted my suggestion of something from The Old Country as being too cliché. But conversations with charming men possessed of lilting brogues leaves me craving a pint of stout, so we put a few Guinness Drafts in the shopping cart. On second thought, seeing as how this was a special occasion, perhaps Champagne would be more apt. So we put a split of bubbly into the cart, too.
Back at home, we faced a serious dilemma: Guinness, or bubbly? Well, why not both…
Black Velvet
Irish stout, preferably Guinness Draft
Sparkling wine
Pour Irish stout into a pilsner or tall glass, to the halfway mark. Top with sparkling wine.
beer, Drink of the Week, recipes, wine & bubbly
5 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 01.02.07 9:51 PM
When Ilva of Lucullian Delights posted two photos of her kitchen, she struck a chord among food bloggers. Her comments filled up with notes from all over, with links to photos and posts. So, knowing a good thing when she sees one, Ilva turned her post into a meme, asking each of her fellow food bloggers to show her their own kitchen.
Which, ordinarily, would be a lot of fun. But at the moment, that’s a little problematic. Because today I have three kitchens.
My first kitchen sits on the main floor of our house, in the usual spot for a 1920s American home. Last night, when I took this photo, it looked eerily empty. At the moment, it’s slightly messier than I like it, given that our contractor and his crew came by today and tore out all of the appliances and cabinets, plus a good deal of the plaster. Since our debris box doesn’t arrive until tomorrow morning, all of said debris is sitting in the middle of the floor. (OK, that’s not entirely true — there’s an even larger pile in the garage.)
Downstairs, in the laundry room off of our guest quarters, we have a little combat kitchen that we’ll use for the next 3 months. Once we realized how much storage space we had, we brought a lot more of our gadgets downstairs than we’d planned. (Upside: We have fewer boxes to unpack. Downside: We have a lot less excuse to eat out.) Other than the obvious lack of a stove, oven, and sink, and the fact that the fridge is in the garage, it’s a surprisingly functional workspace. Of course, I say that now, not having put the whites in the toaster oven and the stew through the spin cycle… yet.
The third kitchen exists almost exclusively in the imagination of three people: Me, Cameron, and our architect. It’s slowly taking shape in the minds of our contractor and his crew… but I don’t think they inhabit it the way we do; not quite yet. But it’s fun to see them peering in and figuring it out, talking through its geometry as they turn blueprints into walls.
But first, there’s the dust, and the Dumpster. And the chaotic existence of having — if only for a day — three kitchens in one house.
kitchen, other blogs
14 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 01.02.07 2:27 PM
Flashback to Thanksgiving, 2005: We were sitting around my parents’ living room, visiting with some of their friends who had come over for coffee and dessert. Talk turned to our upcoming trip to Thailand, and our brief stopover in Tokyo on the way to Bangkok. Mom’s friend M, who is Japanese, asked us what we were planning to do there.
We chatted about our plan to tour the Tsukiji fish market the first morning, and then mentioned, sheepishly, how we’d heard about a museum in Yokohama devoted to the history of ramen noodles. M told us, very excitedly, that she’d grown up in Yokohama and would be visiting her family there for the New Year holidays — right at the same time we’d be passing through. She’d heard of the museum but had never been — could she come along with us? (How fast do you think we said “yes”?)
A few weeks later, we arrived in Tokyo late Christmas night, and headed straight to bed. We had a date the next morning at 3:45am with our Tsukiji guides. And then, on the very same day, we boarded the shinkansen (bullet train) down to Yokohama to meet M. Despite massive jet lag and a complete language barrier, we only made one minor misstep — we picked a queue that led to a smoking car.
By the time we realized our mistake, all the nonsmoking seats were taken. Fortunately, sitting in the smoking car had one advantage: We got to spy on Japanese salarymen as they smoked and snacked on food they’d brought onboard from track-side kiosks. One man’s lunch in particular piqued my curiosity — could it really be a fried-pork sandwich?
M was the best Yokohama guide you can imagine, creating a food-filled tour of her hometown just for us. We started out the day, as planned, at the Shin-yokohama Raumen Museum, which features outposts of famous ramen shops from all over Japan in a setting that replicates a 1950s-era Japanese neighborhood. We sampled four different kinds of ramen, amazed at their variety and depth.
We followed our ramen-fest with a boat ride across Yokohama’s harbor. The ferry dropped us near one of Japan’s most famous department stores, where the basement food halls were filled to the ceilings with traditional new year foods, osechi ryori, which M explained would be enjoyed as a room-temperature feast on the first days of January.
After touring the food halls, we strolled through the city’s bustling Chinatown. We browsed through cookware shops, pressed our noses to the windows where cooks flipped stir-fries in enormous woks.
Knowing we were on our way to Thailand, M wanted us to try Japanese curry. She knew just the place to take us — another food museum! (You have to love a country where there are no fewer than seven food-related attractions in a single area.) Although much less of an actual learning experience than the Raumen Museum, the Yokohama Curry Museum offered a few exhibits, centered around a food court. We feasted on beef curry, curry udon and other curry dishes, and amused ourselves in the impressive gift shop full of ingredients and mixes from all across Asia.
As we walked around Yokohama, M pointed out a number of traditional holiday decorations called kadomatsu: bamboo, pine, and straw in simple, elegant arrangements on either side of the doors of nearly every establishment and home.
At some point that afternoon, M asked how we’d enjoyed our shinkansen journey. We told her that we loved the gliding from Tokyo’s center to its suburbs, and out into the countryside. Talking about the train ride reminded me of that curious sandwich I’d seen. Sure enough, M explained, it was a katsu sando: Tonkatsu on white bread, garnished with a spicy-sweet sauce. Wow!
It turned out we were just blocks from Katsuretsu-An, Yokohama’s most venerable tonkatsu restaurant. Even though we were stuffed from our museum grazing, M insisted on taking us there for dinner. We feasted on a meal that started with steaming bowls of miso soup garnished with pebble-sized clams, followed by juicy-crisp tonkatsu.
As night fell, M walked us back to the train station, and even rode part of the way back to Tokyo with us, to make sure we knew which way we were headed. As she bade us farewell at her transfer point, she handed us a tidy white box that held a thoughtful gift: A katsu sando of our very own. We stashed it in our hotel minibar and shared it on the shuttle to Narita the next day, reminiscing about our wonderful day, and the heartfelt generosity of our new friend.
restaurants, shopping, travel
3 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 01.01.07 4:22 PM
We’ve had a crazy mixed-up holiday season this year, getting ready for the remodel and spending copious amounts of time away from San Francisco. There was no tree this year, no holiday baking, not even a wreath on the door. I consider myself damned lucky that we even got cards in the mail, and only a little embarrassed that they were store-bought (and bore postmarks precariously close to the 25th).
One of the holiday traditions I’ve been craving the most is a relatively new one for us: On New Year’s Day 2003 — during the Seattle Experiment — we made our first cassoulet, and served it to five good friends. Our sit-down meal started with three dozen oysters and a big green salad, and ended with a long walk!
After skipping the festivities in 2004 — we were moving into a new house — we decided to revive the cassoulet tradition two years ago. On January 1, 2005, we invited our entire crew over for an all-afternoon open house, which was simultaneously easier (for not having to find a dozen chairs or matching plates) but also more difficult (keeping cassoulet hot but accessible over the course of the afternoon).
I suspect that party made a deep impression, because one of my Seattle friends asked me for my cassoulet recipe last summer, 18 months after the fact. And then another asked me, just last week, whether I’d be making cassoulet for New Year’s Day this year. Alas, I told him, we’ll be packing up the kitchen for good on January 1 — not a good time to be nursing a giant pot of pork-and-beans a la francais. And anyway, I’d be at my parents’ house through the 29th, leaving me no time to prep duck confit or perform the multi-day mise-en-place that my usual recipe requires.
You see this coming, non?
I’m not sure what got me so obsessed, but I think seeing both Toulouse sausage and duck confit on the Fatted Calf newsletter last week might have been the trigger. Yeah, they’re both on the list every week, I suppose, but my subconscious is working overtime. I became fixated on making cassoulet, somehow: Perhaps if I bought some of the hard-to-make ingredients, rather than making them myself, it wouldn’t be such a crazy idea?
In the back of my mind, I remembered my sister mentioning a “cheater’s cassoulet” she and her husband had made a while back. I checked the usual places for a recipe that seemed to fit that bill, to no avail. I dropped her a line, and asked if she remembered the shortcut I was taking about.
“I think it’s Bittman,” she answered. “We’ll email it to you tonight.”
Sure enough, when it arrived, the recipe was classic Bittman, embodying everything I loathe about his Minimalist shtick, complete with unnecessary substitutions (Italian sausage?? pork tenderloin??) and an outrageously short cooking time. And let’s be honest — there’s no way any bean stew tastes good in less than an hour. That recipe’s no cassoulet; it doesn’t even play one on TV.
Stuck between my old standby — which takes three days, from start to finish, not including the month-long process of making and curing the duck confit — and this 45-minute abomination, I decided there must be some middle ground.
Starting from the 72-hour version, I reduced quantities to keep leftovers in check, then pared down the steps to the essentials, and eliminated some of the crazier ingredients. I ended up with a dish that can be prepped over the course of a lazy morning, leaving enough time for a long, slow braise that coasts into an early supper as the winter sun wanes.
Of course, if you’ve the luxury of time, feel free to break things down into more-manageable blocks, as noted below.
One-Day Cassoulet
1 pound dried white beans that hold their shape when cooked
1 large yellow onion, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
1/4 cup duck fat or chicken fat or lard — divided use
1 meaty ham bone or ham hock (about 3/4 pound)
3 small sprigs fresh thyme
salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1 pound fresh garlic pork sausage, cut into 2-inch chunks
2 to 4 whole confit duck legs, drumsticks and thighs separated
additional unsalted duck, chicken, or ham broth, or water
1/2 to 1 cup toasted breadcrumbs, or panko
Rinse the beans, and soak in your usual manner; drain and set aside.
In a large saucepan or bean pot, saute the onion in 2T duck fat over medium heat until soft. Add the beans, thyme, and the ham hock or ham bone, and cover with water. Bring to a boil over high heat.
Reduce to a low simmer, and cook until the beans are tender but not fully cooked — about 45 minutes for heirloom beans, longer for store-bought. Remove ham bone or hock from the broth, and set aside to cool. Season beans and their liquid to taste with salt and pepper, and set aside. When cool enough to handle, cut meat from the hock or bone into large chunks. Discard the bones (and skin, if you’ve used a smoked hock) and return the meat to the bean pot.
Heat the remaining 2T duck fat in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the duck confit pieces, and cook until browned. Remove from pan and set aside on a plate. Add the sausage pieces to the pan, and brown on all sides, approximately 10 minutes. Deglaze the pan with 1 cup of the bean juices, scraping to dislodge the browned bits; return the enriched juices to the bean pot.
(This makes a nice stopping point, if you’re preparing the cassoulet over two or more days. Be sure to store the beans in their liquid, and remember to bring all ingredients back to temperature before proceeding.)
Preheat the oven to 350F.
With a slotted spoon, place half of the bean-ham mixture into a wide casserole, preferably earthenware or enameled cast-iron. Cover the beans with sausages, then a layer of the duck confit. Cover with the remaining beans, and add just enough of the bean juices to reach the top layer of beans, leaving their top edges exposed. Reserve the extra bean liquid. (Depending on your pan, you may need more liquid, either at this stage or during the moistening process. You can use unsalted chicken broth or — if you’re confident in the flavors of your ingredients — water, but make sure the liquid is warm before adding to the pot, or you’ll slow the cooking process.)
Bake the cassoulet, uncovered, until the mixture comes to a simmer and a crust begins to form, usually about an hour. Break the crust with the back of a spoon, and push the crust under the liquid. Reduce heat to 250F, and cook for as long as you can bear the aroma (2 to 5 hours more), checking every 30 minutes to make sure the cassoulet is still bubbling, and adding more warm liquid as needed to keep the mixture moist but not sodden.
(If you have time, you can cool the cassoulet completely at this point and then refrigerate it, covered with aluminum foil, for a day or two. As with most stews, this resting period will improve the cassoulet, not harm it. If you take this route, warm the cassoulet to room temperature the day you’ll serve it — at least 45 minutes — and heat for an hour in a 350F oven before proceeding to the next step. Again, remoisten as needed.)
Top with the bread crumbs, and cook for 15 to 20 minutes longer. Remove the cassoulet from the oven, and allow to rest 10 minutes before serving.
holidays & occasions, recipes
4 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 12.31.06 8:38 AM
I mentioned my 2006 culinary resolutions in passing last week, and it seems only fair to see how well I managed to pull them off.
I will eat more food that I can trace to its source.
I spent as many Saturday mornings as logistically possible at various farmers markets, and I can honestly say that I could count all of our 2006 trips to Safeway on one hand. We turned to Whole Foods and Tower Market for any needs that couldn’t be managed at the Ferry Building.
The experience was, frankly, eye-opening: We’ve developed relationships with farmers, gotten a much better feel for the rhythm of seasonal crops, and enjoyed observing that — although better food does, often, cost more — we’re more satisfied with a smaller quantity of good things as we used to be with an abundance of mediocre stuff.
I will make time for entertaining friends at home.
We did better this year — especially in the summertime, when it’s so easy to create an amazing spread from all the great produce — but there’s plenty of room for improvement in 2007.
I will find a talented architect to remodel my kitchen.
Check!
I will learn where to find better lunch possibilities near my office, and not just lazily fill my belly with convenient crap.
I definitely put my heart into this one, although I can’t say I was particularly successful. The best thing that happened to my lunch hour in ’06? Hands down, it’s the new “Foodie Court” and Bristol Farms grocery at Westfield SF Centre. (I didn’t say it’s good for my budget, however.)
I will teach the basics to my friends who want to learn to make Thai food.
Well… nobody asked. 😀 I think we got a little Thai’d out after three straight weeks of three five Thai meals a day on Kasma’s trip — we probably cooked less Thai this year than any in recent memory. But, once the new kitchen’s finished (and we have — hallelujah! — an exhaust fan) I hope that will change.
I will read cookbooks from the library before I buy them.
Boy, did this one take off in a big way. I’ve had a steady rotation of three (or more) cookbooks checked out all year. My local library makes it so easy! I just find the ISBN on Amazon, paste it into the library’s search engine, click “Request”, and wait. A few days or weeks later, I get an email telling me my book’s on the hold shelf at my local branch.
I’m having so much fun exploring new cookbooks that I’m working on a Bookshelf page so you can peek at what’s on my kitchen counter each week. (Please be gentle… I’m still beating my head against the monitor — Amazon and WordPress don’t like each other much, so I’m pretty much coding things by hand in my non-existent free time.)
This is the year I will try to cook at least one new recipe a week.
The library-book project pretty much made this a given, although there were definitely good weeks and bad weeks here. Lots of great new recipes made it into our regular repertoire, namely Pear and Arugula Salad, Bleu Cheese Cauliflower Soup, Peach Bruschetta, and Salted Caramel Ice Cream.
I will taste anything that’s put in front of me, no matter how ‘weird’.
See also: Thailand. And also last week‘s Drink of the Week.
I will use my new smoker (you know, the one I hope to get for my birthday) often enough to justify its purchase.
I guess we found other ways to spend that particular chunk of money. 😀
I will give my time to the food bank, and not just when my company gives me time off to do it.
I did volunteer (with the office crew) this summer, but never made it over on my own, except when bearing bags of donations. I resolve to do better in 2007.
I will fill my new garden with as many edible plants as possible.
Another rousing success, thanks in large part to the persistence of my wonderful husband. He sourced some gorgeous edible specimens, pouring over Internet resources and picking the brains of some talented local experts. I’m tickled that we have a garden that’s as tasty as it is beautiful. Stand by for a citrus update in the next week or so…
We will finally take our long-awaited culinary tour of Thailand.
What a wonderful way this was to start our year. One of my resolutions for 2007 is to finally pare down my 1,500 photos into something manageable, and post them to share. If all goes well, perhaps I can dig up our notes and write a few ‘backdated travelogue’ posts next month…
How about you? Any food-related resolutions for 2007?
I’m truly curious… this isn’t just a lazy way to end the post. 🙂
holidays & occasions, locavore, other stuff
8 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 12.29.06 7:12 AM
Not that any of our regular readers will be overindulging this weekend… but just in case you find yourself in need of a wee “hair of the dog” after late nights and too much holiday cheer, here’s a recipe for a classic morning-after tipple to put you back to rights.
If you’re feeling too fuzzy to make your own tomahhhto juice, feel free to substitute V-8 or another flavorful store-bought brand. But juicing your own makes for a crisp, tomatoey taste you can’t get from commercial stuff, and a pleasant viscosity that helps keep all the seasonings afloat.
Need another excuse to whip up a Bloody Mary? Matt gives you 10 of them, fresh from the archives.
Slightly Fancy Bloody Mary
Makes 3-4
1 (28-ounce) can whole peeled tomatoes in juice (preferably Muir Glen)
1T Worcestershire sauce
2T freshly squeezed lemon juice
6-8 ounces vodka
Tabasco sauce
Grated horseradish*
Cajun seasoning salt, such as Tony Chachere’s (or celery salt, or garlic salt)
Lemon wedges, celery hearts, green olives
Process tomatoes and their juice in a food processor. Strain the puree through a coarse sieve into a non-metallic container, stirring and pushing the puree through the seive until you’re left with just seeds and about 1/4 cup of dryish pulp, which you can discard. You’ll end up with a generous 2 cups of thick tomato juice. Add the Worcestershire sauce and lemon juice to the seived juice, and refrigerate at least 1 hour, until well chilled.
In a highball glass, stir together 2 ounces vodka, 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon horseradish, a generous pinch of seasoning salt, and Tabasco sauce to taste (start with 3 drops). Fill the glass 2/3 full with ice and add 6 ounces of the tomato juice mixture. Taste and adjust seasonings, if necessary. Garnish each drink with a lemon wedge and a celery heart, and olives if desired.
*Either fresh-grated from a horseradish root, or bottled horseradish without any creamy additives; “prepared horseradish” will make the drink cloudy and slick.
breakfast, Drink of the Week, recipes
4 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 12.26.06 4:27 PM
Although the origins of Boxing Day are somewhat murky, many of the historical theories include the traditions of providing food or other sustenence to those less fortunate than ourselves. English households apparently boxed up Christmas leftovers for servants’ families, and churches distributed alms collected from the ‘poor box’ on the day after Christmas, St. Stephen’s Day. And I’m sure you know the carol about Good King Wenceslas…
So it seems appropriate to celebrate, today, by thanking everyone who participated in the Menu for Hope charity drive: We raised $58,000 $60,925.12 — that’s more than three times as much as last year — a lot more useful to the recipients of UN World Food Programme aid than day-old leftovers.
If you’ve got a little more time off before the new year, why not tidy up your pantry and take a box of canned goods to your local food bank? Most of the holiday donation barrels seem to have disappeared from grocery stores and office lobbies already, but the San Francisco Food Bank offers a handy list of locations that happily take your donations all year ’round. Or, even better, take a shift as a volunteer food sorter — I’ve done it twice, and it’s hard work, but also a lot of fun.
If you’re outside San Francisco, check out Second Harvest‘s search engine: Plug in your Zip code, and they’ll connect you with a nearby food bank.
holidays & occasions, Menu for Hope
1 Comment »
Posted by Anita on 12.25.06 10:48 AM
…and a happy holiday season to everyone. May your day be filled with delicious food, the love of friends and family, and a dash of unexpected beauty.
holidays & occasions
2 Comments »
Posted by Cameron on 12.23.06 4:53 PM
San Francisco, hang your head in shame. Much as I love my City by the Bay, it’s never been a good place for pizza. The situation has improved in recent years, thanks to the likes of Pizzeria Delfina (If you can get in. if you want to pay $70 for pizza.), but only barely.
I’ve always found the situation mystifying–but after today’s lunch it’s escalated to infuriating. Why, in the foodiest city in the country (hush you homers, I’m pontificating), is it practically impossible to get a decent pizza, when I can sit down to a magnificent Neapolitan pie at a strip mall in Henderson, Nevada?
Settebello has modern Vegas charm, which is to say that it’s cavernous, painfully clean, clangingly empty, and so new that you can practically smell the fresh concrete. The sheer size of even the smallest of these commercial spaces dwarfs any attempt at coziness, but Settebello manages to inject some warmth–perhaps it was the overwrought Italian pop music wafting through the sound system. Could have been the Real Madrid game on the widescreen TV. Perhaps it was the friendly staff. Might have been the giant mural of the Bay of Napoli on the wall, or the Italian travel posters. Could it have been the enormous pizza oven?!
The menu is simple, built around Neapolitan pizza. Settebello has been certified by Vera Pizza Napoletana, a distinction that it shares with Seattle’s Via Tribunali, among others. We’ll pass lightly over the absurdity of creating a committee to preserve taste, but only because the pizza at Settobello is very, very, good. I defiled the purity of my margherita with finocchiona from Salumi, secure in the knowledge that “Variations of pizzas are recognized if they are informed by the Neapolitan tradition of pizzas and are not in contrast with the rules of gastronomy.” The pie and its precious cargo were worthy of each other’s company. The sauce and cheese were light, fresh, and applied with a gentle hand. The crust wasn’t quite as perfect, but according to the folks at Valley Wine and Cheese across the parking lot, there have been some oven issues that needed sorting out. Anita’s calzone wasn’t as spectacular as my “margherita con…”, but was still very good.
Nitpicking. Pure nitpicking. This is seriously good pizza. I can’t wait to try the bianca. It will be a sad trip to Henderson that doesn’t include a visit to Settebello, and a sad flight back to pizza wasteland that is San Francisco. I shall console myself with carnitas and birria.
Settebello Pizzeria Napoletana
1776 W. Horizon Ridge Parkway
Henderson, NV 89052
702.222.3556
Italian, restaurants, Vegas
6 Comments »
