“Have you ever been to Sally’s before?” we’re quizzed by our server, seconds after being seated in a wide booth in the far corner of the popular pizza restaurant, located in an alley behind Main Street in downtown Stamford. Sally of the Alley, I call it.
“No,” my pal and I lied, not, you understand, because we’re liars by nature but because, in the interests of good reporting, we want to hear the server’s spiel. And very informative it was, too.
“Sally’s,” he said, “is our New Haven-style pizza, sauce forward, light on cheese, with a touch of char from the open oven.” Got it.
Sally’s first opened in New Haven as a pizzeria in 1938. More than 85 years later, with four locations, namely New Haven, Fairfield, Stamford – launched two years ago – and the recently-opened one in Woburn, Massachusetts, the group is transitioning from purveyors of pizza and rebranding as “a rapidly expanding Italian restaurant that also serves pizza.”
Not halting there, as several new locales, including Norwalk, Wethersfield, Newington and West Hartford, all in Connecticut, are in the pipeline. So is an outlet in Boston’s Seaport.
The Stamford branch looks lovely. It’s big and bright with spacious leather booths, a semiprivate dining room, an open kitchen, a mezzanine and a larger bar. On a bright corner site with floor-to-ceiling windows, we also admired its terrazzo floor and generously-sized tables, with ample space between them. Whether by accident or intent, the designer of this restaurant, indeed all the Sally’s restaurants, since they all share the same look, has arrived at a brilliant approximation of a trendy Milanese enoteca as opposed to, say, a Neapolitan pizzeria, so much so I felt myself transported to the Italian fashion capital before I’d had a single bite.
So, what did we bite?
Those bruschette made a great starter – four slices piled high with tomato, eggplant, Calabrian salami and mushroom, and something of a bargain if you take advantage of the all-four assortment. The crisp, toasted bread held the toppings well but drizzled with – you could say slathered in – good quality olive oil, be warned: This was a messy snack to eat.
Baked clams looked wonderfully appetizing, splayed in their cast-iron dish, which arrived piping hot with an instruction not to touch it. (Of course, we did.) But they were murderously salty and those golden breadcrumbs, which looked so appealing, turned out to be soggy and a little sad.
Updated and new dishes include panuozzi, which are only available at lunch time. Made with the same dough as Sally’s uses for its pizza, the Hot Italian with mortadella, salami, provolone and peppers – and much, much more besides – was just too much of a good thing in my book, although the pal said he rated it. I got the thinking behind it, namely “let’s throw everything we got at this,” but I found the ingredients to be non-cohesive and slightly overwhelming. Others, like my pal, will doubtless love it.
Thin-crust, coal-fired New Haven pizzas – apizzas as they are known – come on waxed paper on individual metal trays. Our mozzarella and tomato sauce pie, a margherita by any other name, (although the New Haven apizza purists won’t like me calling it that), was a joy – a beautiful, blush-rose color and sweet tomato shot with creamy mozz, or “mootz”, as they say in New Haven. And thanks to that light “kiss” of char, I even finished the crust, something I tend not to do.
The seasonal apizza special, the Spring Fling, by contrast, was a white pie with mozzarella, sugar and snap peas, pancetta, egg yolk and pea tendrils. “Pizza, bacon and eggs, plus salad all in one,” as the pal quipped. Shouldn’t have worked, but it did.
My request for a tiramisù to share brought the question, “Are you residents here?” Apparently, dessert is offered free to residents of the building in which Sally’s sits. I’ll be honest: This was going to have to be a mighty good tiramisù to get me to move to downtown Stamford, since I’m happy where I already live. But you know what? It was so good, it came pretty close. And we loved the stenciled “S” for Sally’s in the cocoa powder surround.
Sally’s doesn’t do espresso, only regular coffee. Brought to the table on a large black plate with a selection of creamers and sugars, this felt almost like a course on its own. Could a coffee course become a thing? Well, not this coffee: It was lukewarm and weak. When I mentioned this, it was graciously removed, an apology was offered and a new cup of hot coffee quickly brought.
This time around it was scalding – and still weak. “Way too hot to drink,” I sulked.
“Too cold, too hot, make up your mind,” said my pal. “Some people are never satisfied.”
That said, there’s plenty to satisfy at Sally’s, and some room for improvement.
For more, visit sallysapizzza.com.
