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Del Popolo

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In an ideal world, everything is perfect. You own a truck that you invested around $100,000 into and turned it into the most glorious food truck anyone has ever laid eyes on. You virtually gave the word “food truck” a completely new definition and look. You don’t have long lines on a Monday, the most hated day of the week. You’re well staffed with two pizzaiolos and one hostess/cashier. You have an 800-degree capable wood-burning oven on deck. You’re making beautiful pies with exuberant flavors and great crusts that send your customer’s buds into a frenzy.

Well, five out of six ain’t too shabby. Because in the real world, my experience with Del Popolo’s White pizza was less than ideal.

When we walked that pasty and anemic pie over to the Bar Agricole courtyard, I thought it gave a completely new definition to the term “white” pizza. The substance of a raw sienna coloured and slightly crusty dough that makes a small crackling sound when you bite down had been replaced. Instead, I was faced with a Pillsbury-esque, undercooked dough that did have char bubbles, the gaseous bubs that usually hand over their purse-pockets like a NY socialite being mugged, but they were merely in attendance in vain. Virtually, faux Fendi’s. I spied some thin sliced garlic, but with no garlic taste. Fresh motz with no motz flavor, ripped of their royally given decadent birthright. Just creating a watery mess that slipped off like a gorda oiled up and sent down a slip-and-slide, rather than lovely puddles of sticky goop.

It was shockingly disappointing. I just sat there, in the doldrums, starring at my one slice I attempted to eat. My bottom lip dangling. I couldn’t even finish one slice. Sure, maybe I need to put down a slice every now and then for fat’s sake, but when I’m prepared to do it voluntarily, you know there’s a problem.

In a month, I’ll revisit Del Popolo. I have to. I refuse to believe that this was as good as they can get. I wanted to like…no…love this pizza. I was excited to eat this pizza. There was a hype surrounding this big, beautiful, dynamic truck, sending all social networking sites aflutter. In the end, I think the aesthetics were long more focused on that what was actually important: product taste.

At least the truck is a shinning glory of beauty.

You can find Del Popolo at:

Or, Mondays from 5:30pm until they run out, outside of:

Bar Agricole

355 11th Street  San Francisco, CA 94103 [SOMA]

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