La Siciliana
Do I dare try the pizza in rural Mendocino County?
About two and half hours north up the 101 in Mendocino is a dusty little weed town called Willits, “The Gateway to the Redwoods.” It’s the sort of place where you’d only really stop if you had to. They’ve got a couple of strip malls, a hokey looking downtown that feels very old west, and a tourist trap called The World Famous Skunk Train that is definitely not world famous, but actually looks pretty cute, if you’re into settler-colonial role play.
Still, for pot farmers and homesteaders and anyone else living in rural northern California, towns like Willits are a lifeline. Life in the hills can be pretty isolating, so every once in a while, you rumble down the dirt road in your mud-splattered pickup truck and head to places like Mariposa Market for organic groceries, or to buy a culturally appropriative handbag at Unique Boutique. Maybe you’re craving a handcrafted candle that smells like patchouli from Earth’s Treasures. Or perhaps you’re feeling a little frisky and wanna shake out your dreadlocks at one of the local bars (Diggers if you’re an outlaw, Shanachie’s if you brought your kids). Or, perhaps you’re just an angsty Jersey Boy like me, very far away from home, wondering why you can’t seem to break away from rural Mendocino County.
If you fall into that last category, a sign for a place called La Siciliana will inevitably catch your eye. My ancestors are from Sicily and my Jersey famiglia is very proud of being from that beautiful little island in the Mediterranean (even though none of us have ever traveled there). So of course, I had to check it out.
We arrived at 3:30pm and they don’t open until 4, so I decided to blend in with the locals by getting stoned in the parking lot.
At exactly 3:59pm we entered the restaurant to find a delightfully traditional interior complete with red and white checkered tablecloths, metal pizza stands, and those classic chubby little shakers filled with parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes. Off to a promising start!
This being a sit-down restaurant rather than a slice joint, we got started with the insalata Siciliana ($13) and a medium Margherita pie ($18.50), which I have to say are very solid price points. A true breath of fresh air from the greedy capitalist restauranteurs we have to deal with in the Bay Area.
I was absolutely delighted to see that they also had Italian cream sodas on the menu. This is a real goomba speciality. You pump some sugary fruit syrup into the bottom of a glass, then top it with sparkling water and a healthy dose of half-and-half. It sounds kinda weird when you type it out, but they’re usually pretty good. I ordered the blood orange ($4.25) and my sweetheart got a lemonade ($2.95, made in house).
The Italian soda came out in a big glass with a spoon sticking out the top and I immediately felt like a little kid, stirring up the deep red sugary syrup from the bottom and watching with joy as the entire thing turned a delightful pink color. The taste lived up to the presentation, with a sharp and punchy citrus flavor perfectly balanced by a soft creamy finish.
Next we moved on to the salad which was a little disorienting, combining walnuts and blue cheese with Kalamata olives and balsamic vinegar. The Italians have never really been known for their salads, and I’ll be the first to admit that. Our most famous one, the Caprese, is literally just slices of cheese stacked on top of tomato. But in rural northern California, you’re lucky to find a salad at all, let alone an edible one. So I won’t knock it too hard.
Finally, the pizza arrived and this baby was absolutely dripping with cheese. You could tell they use a combination of fresh and shredded mozzarella and these people do not skimp. Fresh chopped basil was a welcome addition, but I would have appreciated just a tad more. And there was one glaring omission - no tomatoes. Fresh sliced tomatoes are an absolutely essential component of any margherita pie. Along with the basil, this is the only thing differentiating it from an ordinary cheese pie.
If you’ll allow me to take you on a brief stroll into the annals of history, the Margherita pie was invented by a renowned pizzaiolo (that means pizza maker) named Raffaele Esposito. Esposito was a legendary chef at a place called Pizzeria di Pietro e basta così, which translates to “Pietro's Pizzeria and that's enough." The restaurant was founded by a guy named Pietro in 1780, and might possibly be the world’s first pizzeria.
100 years later, Raffaele Esposito was the head goomba in charge, and his pizzas had become so famous in Naples that when the royal family came to visit in 1889, Esposito was asked to prepare a special pizza for them.
A true patriot, he decided to top the royal pie with tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil in honor of the red, white, and green of the Italian flag.
The Queen of Italy, Margherita of Savoy, was allegedly so impressed with this pizza that she wrote Esposito a letter showering him with praise. According to legend, that letter hangs on the wall of the restaurant to this day. They’re still in business, under the name Pizzeria Brandi. If you ever visit Naples, this would be a great place for a pizza pilgrimage.
Anyway, Esposito decided to name his now classic recipe after the Queen, and thus the famous Margherita was born.
Disclaimer: this whole story might be a load of bullshit, since I find it really hard to believe that no one in Naples had ever tried putting tomatoes and basil on pizza before. Either way, it’s quite a legend to live up to for a humble place like La Siciliana in Willits, CA.
But, I have to say their offering was actually very good. The mozzarella was fresh, the sauce was bright and aromatic, and the crust, while definitely on the thick side, was quite flavorful. But the lack of fresh tomato slices has forced me to deduct at least half a point. This pizza definitely doesn’t compare to an authentic East Coast margherita, but for a California gold rush town-turned-weed community, I was genuinely impressed.
They’ve got some East Coast staff too, including a waitress from Long Island who has a dog named Guido (he eats broccoli and is Italian, she said).
“Wow you’re from Long Island? I’m from Jersey!” I shared with excitement.
“Jersey? Ugh…” she said with a grimace, and then walked away.
And for that authentic East Coast interaction, La Siciliana has officially recovered the half point deducted for lack of tomatoes.
West Coast: 8
East Coast: 6
