Pies a la Mode: Neapolitan pizzas join first class gelatos at Capofitto

When Stephanie Reitano, inspired by an Italian vacation, wanted to learn how to make gelato, she sought the advice of the best in the business and began experimenting at home. Then she and her husband, John, opened Capogiro, the gelateria that has since launched a thousand cones of Cioccolato Scuro.

You could say that venture turned out OK: The Reitanos have four locations spread around town, plus a booming wholesale business. Their dreamy waves of churned Lancaster County milk have been called the best in the country.

So when Stephanie decided she wanted to learn to make pizza, she took the same approach, undergoing two separate apprenticeships with a third-generation pizzaiola, Ciro Salvo, in Naples.

“I was cutting mozzarella for three hours a day,” she remembers. “They’re very secretive, and it’s all men; they didn’t really like the idea of me going shoulder-to-shoulder on the line.”

As the sticky summer weeks passed, she earned her keep in the flour-fingered boy’s club — forming dough, making staff meal. And when she departed Italy, armed with secrets gleaned from the maestro, she and John opened Capofitto, a handsome pizzeria in the offices of a defunct paper company on Chestnut Street. 

A curved-glass gelato case dominates the entrance of the galley-like front room, and for some one-track-minded customers, Capofitto begins and ends with a cone of Thai coconut milk or Campari grapefruit. But while the gelato is obviously virtuous, it would be a shame to miss what this place is really all about. 

Weave your way into the back of the space, along the coffee bar stacked with dishes of Italian candy and jars of five-spice-scented cookies, toward the awkward cluster of staff that seals off the dining room entrance. Pass through the pretty wall of French doors that once divided the paper offices and into a spacious dining room with the vibe of a worn-in living room. 

The double banquettes flanking the room wear rainbow looming that feels like an old winter scarf. Textured tin walls mimic corduroy, and one stretch is decorated with mirrors that look as if they came from Restoration Hardware’s evil queen collection.

In this kingdom, Stephanie Reitano is the fairest of them all: dark hair in a tight knot, baggy ivory cargo pants and slim white logo T in the style of the Neapolitan pizza pros. When you’re standing in front of a 900-degree oven all night, you’ve got to stay cool, and Capofitto’s inferno is a formidable beast turning out pies that are “Neapolitan-style,” Reitano clarifies, not precisely Neapolitan. “We’re not following all the rules.” 

Her dough, while highly hydrated, is slightly less wet and sticky than the version she learned to make at Ciro Salvo’s pizzeria. That pizza has a 12-inch diameter, leopard-spotted belly and texture that transitions from crispy heat-singed rim to soft (but not soupy) center. “Digestible” comes up a lot; Neapolitan pizza should be light and easy to eat, and Capofitto’s put up no argument.

Whether it was the Calabrese, dotted with buttons of hot ’nduja, creamy buffalo mozzarella and vine-smoked tomatoes, or the Lombardia, a special pie involving funky taleggio, speck, potatoes and local mushrooms, the pies were big enough to share, but good enough to hoard. If you’re feeling generous, go with the tubby ripieno, a Neapolitan calzone cousin with petals of fennel salami. 

There’s a supporting cast of small plates under the direction of Luca Garutti, former chef/owner of the shuttered Fairmount BYOB L’Oca: tender pumpkin gnocchi with speck and sage, for example. But the guy’s got a tendency to underseason; almost all the non-pizza offerings would have been better with a final hit of salt.

The housemade sausage proved the only exception, a glistening link flavored with wine, garlic, chilies and toasted wild fennel seed, a scent that fills your brain. It arrives with a distinctively spiced giardiniera and a leafy, lightly dressed corsage of bitter Italian chicories. 

That petite salad made me crave more vegetables to balance the carbo onslaught and the traditional trove of fried snacks, like arancini with creamy, cheesy carnaroli rice cores and Yukon Gold croquettes that were like Italian mashed potatoes with provola, pecorino and parsley. Reitano seems committed to keeping the non-pizza stuff to a minimum, but in addition to more green things, I’d love to see a large-format meat option and a couple more pastas. Capofitto’s San Marzano marinara and pork-and-short rib meatballs deserve more platforms.

Brooke Saylor, a former assistant manager at the Rittenhouse Capogiro who turned a passion for home baking into a bone fide new career, is a rising star. Her unexpected, American-heritage desserts include a lush pumpkin cheesecake that pleases pumpkin-spice whores and haters alike — credit the tart, equalizing raspberry sauce — and a stunning apple dumpling with soft, cinnamon-perfumed Northern Spies. 

And because this is a Capogiro joint, you can get anything a la mode. I ordered my dumpling with two scoops of dense, sticky scoops of fior di latte. The gelato, as always, was exquisite.

CAPOFITTO | 223 Chestnut St., 215-897-9999, capofittoforno.com. Sun.-Thu., 7:30 a.m.-10:30 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 7:30 a.m.-11:30 p.m. Appetizers, $5-$11; pizza, $12-$19; desserts, $7-$10.