I can’t remember not eating pizza. Even as a kid – before I knew Italy existed – I was spreading ketchup and melting cheese on slices of toast, adding cheap wafer-thin ham put aside for our school packed lunches. It’s no real surprise then, that searching the streets of Sorrento for the best pizza in town, brought as big a smile to my face as cruising the Amalfi Coast, climbing Vesuvius and exploring Pompei.
I tried a few pizzas before I found the greatest. The runners-up themselves, were great. Hotel Bristol’s classic Margarita kept popping up on forums and Facebook groups and was definitely a surprising contender; but it was lacking a key ingredient. I found the missing ingredient eating pizza in Bar Syrenuse, located in the bustling Piazza Tasso – Sorrento’s main square. What was missing wasn’t a meat, vegetable, herb or spice; it was the experience – it was eating pizza in Piazza Tasso, people-watching and sipping on Limoncello. I’d quickly realised that pizza in Italy was more than food – it was life; and I was close to finding the best I’d experienced in mine.
I didn’t find the best pizza in Sorrento – it found me. I can’t even remember how, where or who mentioned Pizzeria Da Franco’s as a serious contender. It was far enough out of the hustle and bustle to be considered quiet; but still only a short walk along Corso Italia to the East of Piazza Tasso. The second we walked through the door, I knew.
Rows of rustic wooden benches – free from fancy fabrics and cutlery – filled the place. What might have horrified the posh diner, had me hypnotised. Large metal trays lined with oven-proof paper, rested on tables instead of plates. A mix of local and tourist diners were eating from them, fresh and hot from the oven. Piles of these trays were stacked high around the restaurant, littered – every so often – with a few crumbs, fragments of crust or a stray basil leaf; but never anything you could consider waste or left-overs. The way of working seemed chaotic; but it was way more than efficient; it just all made sense. It was real. The rustic charm was only enhanced by the small plastic cups handed out with your drinks.
I couldn’t stop smiling; and we hadn’t even looked at the menu yet! The lighting was great and the cured meat-joints hanging from the ceiling showcased the produce and its authenticity. The menu was a celebration of pizza and quality, fresh ingredients. You order a 30cm for around 10EURO or a 50cm for around 20EURO. All the classics are joined by regional favourites, with toppings including roast potatoes, roast pig of Arricia, pumpkin, pistachios, hand-made mortadella and crunchy bacon. We stuck to classics: the Margerita and the signature ‘Da Franco’ with fresh tomato, mozzarella, rocket salad and Grana Padano shavings. We needed some form of comparison to the pizzas we’d tried before; and yet – simply put – there was no comparison.
The freshness of the dough and ingredients shone. Every slice passed every test I’d ever researched; from the way it held and folded, through to its balance and base; and don’t even get me started on the taste! I don’t know if eating pizza in Pizzeria Da Marco’s made the food taste better; but something was at play that day. I was a happier person eating there. For the first time in my life, I was truly eating pizza.
The bill soon arrived, marking the end to my search for Sorrento’s greatest pizza; but – even now – the magic of Marco’s wasn’t quite done and dusted. Above our bench was an old picture of a man, who we were told – by our server – was Marco himself. Our server – by chance – was his granddaughter, who spoke so fondly of her grandfather, Marco. Her love for him shone as she showed us a selfie she’d taken that day; and insisted I add it to this review.
You won’t find better pizza than in Italy; and Pizzeria Da Franco’s is the greatest you’ll find in Sorrento. More than that though – in my search for great pizza – I discovered Italy’s passion for food; and that food serves far more than our taste-buds alone. Food – for many – is love; and is enjoyed with all our heart. I thank Marco and his granddaughter for showing me that.
Grazie Marco – goditi la meritata pensione con la tua splendida famiglia… e con del buon cibo!
Thanks so much for taking the time to read – now go and get it booked!