La Disfida

109 Ramsay Street, Haberfield
Tuesday - Sunday, 6pm - 10.30pm

Hands down, this is the best pizza in Sydney.

I usually weigh my opinions on food-houses based on more than just the food and it's quality, such as service and atmosphere, however it testifies to La Disfida's phenomenon that this place can still stand to completely ignore those other factors.

Despite my patronage for some goodly time, and I really mean goodly, there is barely a smile when I traverse their entrance, nor even a polite greeting to speak of. I have to say, without stereotyping too much, it is very typical of the area. If you are not in with speaking about the new bambini or gossiping about which landlord is going to buy the business due up for sale in seven months (yeah, it's a very 'indie' crowd), prepare to be rightfully ignored. And y'know what, it really ain't that bad. Even with my connections in both the area and with the owners I still barely manage to dredge any recognition from their faces.

Now that I have filled up my little complaints box, my true love for the food here shall come to be. Now. Rino Lattanzio knows what the hell should be done with dough and a few quality ingredients. The woodfire oven stands towards the back and at the end of the length of counter that strides across the first room. The external bricks are toasty warm and the small cracks of timber and burning embers fill the lulls in the hubbub of conversation around. They have made the relatively recent amendment to the restaurant by creating a hole between the two floors, for the purpose of viewing the master at work with his trade. Is nice.
So as the oven dominates the warm and dimly lit room with it's brick intensity, you get to make the awful decision of eliminating the pizza's you won't have. It is therefore a good idea to bring a friend or thirteen. Because last time I checked, that's how many pizzas are on the menu. There is no question that you pick (at least) one pizza all to yourself. It's not gluttony here, it's the beauty of ultrAA-thin crusts and relatively little else. See, tradition is good for some things! All choices kill it, but the one's I have a seemingly large amount of trouble going past, are the Diavola and the Crudaiola. The Diavola basically translates to devil, and it is if you can't handle the rad that is chilli. The simplicity of crushed tomatoes, the thinnest coating of mozzarella you ain't ever seen, chilli, olives, the hottest damn salami evrrr, and a few anchovies is mind-blowing. I hate anchovies, and yet I manage to love them on this pizza. Go figure! The Crudaiola, as far as I can tell, refers to the raw tomatoes used on this pizza - crudo being the root of it's name. Topped also with the same (not literally) mozzerella, as well as garlic, basil, a good sprinkling of pine nuts, and a lovely dashing of olive oil, this pizza is the freshest damn one you can get. You'll feel like you picked the ingredients yourself from la tenuta di famiglia right back in Italy.
My verdict was made long ago. And now it officially stands. Yerr! Ain't nothin' to be done about it! \o/ Whhhheeeeeeeeee!