Tucked in one of the most eastern jutting pockets of Etobicoke, Capi's Pizza is the definition of a "blink and you'll miss it" restaurant. Nestled in the corner of a little plaza on Dundas Street West, with a basic sign, little presence and a not-at-all flashy storefront... also at a point of a wide busy street where cars are zipping at high speeds down Dundas either having completed crossing an incline bridge over Royal York, or are about to go over it.
Not often do you see an 'About' page on a restaurant's website that mentions how they went through some struggles ("lost our way" is essentially the quote) but Capi's does so. They've operated in various concepts and fashions since 1962, with likewise multiple owners and different hybrid ideas what to offer beyond pizza and other Italian fare. In early 2020, chef Mike Schillaci (formerly of Terroni and others) took over the space with the intention of an entirely new restaurant... except the locals in the area were supposedly so delighted by the notion of Capi's coming back that Schillaci decided to keep the name while transforming the concept into his own vision.
What is that exactly? It's a basic setup: maybe half a dozen tables for sit down eating, no patio or outdoor seating (difficult to do in a plaza) and the interior decor is black and minimalist. Most of the decoration is in fact accolades about Capi's itself, celebrating Schillaci's achievement of resurrecting the place and Capi's gold medal in a "Best of Etobicoke Pizza" reader's poll (second place was Pizzeria Via Napoli, which I will try very soon).
Clearly this is a spot very proud of what it has fought back to become (especially re-launching right before a terrible global pandemic... ouch) and while I am subjectively sympathetic... what really matters in these reviews is both the experience and most of all: the pizza itself. Lets bite into that, shall we?
As I like to do when sampling a place for the first time, I go for red pizzas (tomato sauce) with some kind of meat and a secondary element to compliment that. This here is Capi's "Roni" pizza, which I think you can probably guess what the meat is... chicken! Like, duh.
Supporting this pepperoni pizza is some shredded basil (always an interesting choice to shred it, more on that later) and a plentiful drizzle of hot honey. In the top right corner (the red dollop) is a helping of a sauce spread they offer at the counter, for dipping and the like I presume.
Getting the bad out of the way early: this pizza was overcooked, full stop. I don't mind some char, obviously it's a key staple of wood fired pies... but parts of this crust were flat out burnt, as you can see, which made it far too crispy and lacked any element of soft bread that I really like in a crust. Not off to a good start.
But! Despite that... I know a good pizza when I taste one, and similar to the unimaginable obstacles Capi's must've faced trying to reopen when everything was being closed and reopened and closed again... this pie overcomes a serious challenge and indeed rises to the precipice of excellence.
Breaking it down... excellent pepperoni. You get the tiny cups, pools of a greasy honey hit within (delightful) and the texture is sharp and lasting. Shredded basil! Now, I'm used to (having worked at Pizzeria Libretto a while back, not sure if I mentioned that a hundred times before) pizzas where the basil is in raw full leaf form and then baked with the pie. A super hot oven that takes 90 seconds to cook a pizza, it makes sense because the basil will cook, dry out a little but not burn and thus retain its flavour. Many lesser pizza places will just throw it on (same with spinach) and let it cook itself out into a horrible tasteless husk for twenty minutes because, it's a minimum wage chain restaurant and nobody really knows or cares.
Capi's shreds the basil, which is an interesting choice in of itself (spread it out but lessen the full taste) and they clearly have wisely put it on while the pizza is cooling out of the oven. And... it works here. A nice little leafy secondary taste alongside the heaviness of the pepperoni and cheese.
Also, this is quality mozzarella. Not elite, that decadent soft buttery feel isn't quite there, but you taste real cheese that has melted of its own accord and not because it was chemically programmed to do so (see my King Slice review). Good cheese! One of those things you really notice when you have not-so-real cheese soon after or before.
The hot honey... it works (not so much the hotness, but the sweetness is a perfect touch) but man, I wish places would take a page from Mark's Pizza out in Scarborough and put that delicious stuff on the side. It's a wonderful compliment to this particular pizza, adding sticky sweet to pork and cheese and basil... fantastic. When you drizzle it on a still fresh-from-the-oven pizza... it tends to rapidly thin out and drip between the slices, sticking to the bottom of the box and the slices themselves... resulting in a very messy sticky delight. It is what it is, but having it on the side easily avoids this issue.
Crust and sauce... as I said this was overcooked and so the crust was more like a pastry exterior. Very light, crunchy, plenty of airspace. Frankly, not my preference but also entirely fine. I don't recall the tomato sauce beyond it being of a solid quality, definitely a tomato sting, not overly watery or thick and more neutral on the sweet-versus-earthy scale. Good foundation.
Finally, the little red dollop in the corner. I'm certain it's a red pepper pesto, judging by the oiliness and grounded taste of it, and it's a unique side along for the ride (pardon the rhyme time). It's a rather hard thing to scoop or dip, as it's oiliness tended to leak and flow around the box (combined with the honey... this was a messy affair)... but when getting a good amount of it the flavour was extremely enjoyable. Lacking the bitterness and garlic of a usual basil/nut based pesto (also good), this one really leans into that distinctly initial sharp pepper taste, and lets the oil lead you down the aftertaste. Different and interesting.
---
Overall! It's always a good story when a place that's been around for over sixty years, in whatever incarnation it might be (or incidentally keeping the same name) persists onward, continuing to be a keystone in a (frankly) easily driven by section of Toronto. Places like this are a big reason (that and hunger) I continue to seek out new pizza and new civilizations... to boldly go where no pizza reviewer has gone before... engage!
You have no idea how much a smile on my face grows when I watch that.
Right, the review! Look, if I'm referencing one of my very favourite things while reviewing your place, odds are I'm glowing. Capi's Pizza is indeed a hidden little planet in our Toronto Pizza Galaxy that, while quiet, is doing excellent things worthy of the Federation's attention.
This pizza, despite the overcook, was an example of simplicity executed smartly and creatively, those little touches (shredded basil, hot honey) adding so much to something that on its own would've been totally wonderful regardless. I'm giving Capi's a "B++". Taste-wise they remind me a lot of One Night Only, actually. I might have ONO slightly higher in a direct comparison but only slightly. Capi's is legit and I recommend trying them if you can. It's right at the bottom of the hill, don't drive by and miss it.
No comments:
Post a Comment