On our way for a mid-week Estes Park getaway, RAS and I had dinner at Pizzeria Locale. Owned and operated by the same people who brought Frasca to Boulder – its convenient next-door neighbor (see left in the picture) – it took some convincing to hubby that this place would be worthy of our time and money. If he had his way, he would’ve chosen something far more pedestrian. Or Asian, which I have no objections to, but I was in the mood for pizza…and a really excellent one at that.
You know a place means business when they have one of only nine wood-fired tiled ovens in the US, direct from Napoli.
Our awesome waiter, Carson, helped us out when it came to choosing our items. One of these was arancini – breaded saffron-infused risotto morsels stuffed with buffalo-milk mozzarella. Unlike most deep-fried dishes, this one was feathery light, and I probably could’ve eaten about 14 more of these…
We also enjoyed a simple argula salad with parmigiano-reggiano shavings and balsamic vinegar. Interesting how the most basic salads are sometimes the most delectable. The perfect accompaniment: hot from the oven foccacia.
Then came the main event…a deceptively basic pizza Diavolo with fresh tomato sauce, smoked buffalo mozzarella, salame piccante, basil leaves and dried chile flakes. The combination of all of these ingredients, master-crafted dough and the imported oven resulted in the pizza heaven I was searching for.
The atmosphere is at once chic and laid back, which seems to be the Boulder norm at local higher-end establishments. We came in wearing jeans and shirts, undoubtedly the most casually dressed of the diners present, but we were still treated like we belonged there.
Like these people, we sat at the pizza bar and could see our dinner being created right in front of us.
Stuffed but extremely satisifed, we could’ve gotten these treats – or one of the other wonderful-sounding desserts – but the mere thought was more than my stomach could handle. Still, I should’ve forced RAS to at least get these for much later in the evening. There’s always room for cookies, right?