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CAPITOL CUISINE
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by Celeste McCall
izza–or Pinsa? I’ve revisited La Casina Pinseria Romana, 327 Seventh St. SE, near Eastern Market. With colleague Liz O’Gorek, I first dined there shortly after it opened last November. Then we sampled yummy, golf ball-sized risotto balls filled with mozzarella, plus a Margherita “pinsa.” Since then, after wading through red tape, La Casina finally acquired a beer and wine license; the extensive listing is well worth the wait. I returned to La Casina this spring with husband Peter. Sipping vino, we began our lunch with flavorful deepfried green olives stuffed with sausage.
A deliciously crisp pinsa emerges from La Casina’s woodburning oven.
Created by La Casina Pinseria Romana, pinsa crusts are baked without yeast.
But we came here mainly for pizza. Or–excuse me--pinsa. “Don’t call it pizza,” owner Fabrizio Costantini had told O’Gorek. “Roman pinsa is a modern take on an ancient Roman dough,” he explained. “It has a mixture of flours, with low gluten content and high moisture –but no yeast. It is left to rest for about 36 to 48 hours in the refrigerator. It will ripen naturally, taking on a crunchy appearance when cooked but soft and light inside.” We could not decide between a classic La Garum (Pomodoro sauce, pepperoni, olives and spices), or La Carbonara (cured pork, egg, olive oil and pecorino Romano). We finally decided on the latter--a pinsa take on the classic pasta carbonara. Good choice. The smoky pork and egg was an agreeable marriage. Presented on a wooden board, the oblong pie was meant to feed two, but we thought we’d eat only part of it and take the rest home. Yeah, right. We polished off the whole thing. My Pinot Grigio complemented the rich pie perfectly. Our only com-
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