There it was on a sign, over what looked from the road like just another generic front side of a business in a strip mall - African Restaurant.  I was in a part of Dayton that I don't often visit because I had gone to see the doctor, and on the way back to the highway, I notice this restaurant.  My first thought was "that's rather non-specific"... you see, Africa is a massive continent with 54 countries on it.  (Google gave me that country count.)  Ethiopian cuisine is African.  Moroccan cuisine is African.  Senegalese cuisine is African.  These types of cuisines are completely different from each other.  I wanted to know more, so I found the restaurant on the Internet, and looked at the menu.  I think it's Nigerian cuisine, though I could be wrong.  My wife and two of her coworkers accompanied me for lunch there a few weeks ago.

My wife's coworkers each chose a version of jollof rice, and each declined the offer to have it be spicy.  My wife chose a soup, and that came with fufu.  The soup looked to have a texture that I would describe as “slightly gooey”, just from looking at it.  Apparently okra was heavily involved in the soup base, so that made sense.  It looked quite tasty though, see?

Our server said “you're speaking my language” when the soup got ordered, so this one was definitely one of the staff favorites.

I asked for the pepper goat.  The server asked if I wanted it spicy, and I said “absolutely."  Here's what it looked like:

I know what you're wanting to know.  Was this delicious?  Yes, yes it was.  It was spicy, though I think the staff might have held back a little.  The sauce and seasoning on the goat was all sorts of savory goodness.  The two gentlemen enjoyed their jollof rice as well.  We also ordered puff puff for the table, which is a sweet fried dough. Think of it as funnel cake, but shaped roughly like a baseball.

There didn't appear to be any more than two, possibly three people staffing the restaurant. I had no doubt that everything was mostly being cooked to order, and that the prep done in advance might be limited to cutting and marinating.  If you live in the Dayton area, you should definitely visit these folks.

I went to Philadelphia for the first time a couple of months ago to see Failure.  I'll have more to say about that later.  For now, I'd like ask you:  What's the first thing you think of when you think of Philadelphia?  Some of you will say the Rocky series of movies.  Some of you will say the Liberty Bell.  Those of you who are my people - people who enjoy delicious things - will say cheesesteaks.  Across the rest of the country, isn't this food item generally referred to as a "philly cheesesteak"?  The name of the city is inseparable from the food.

Since I was in Philadelphia for a few days, I made it my mission to taste as many different cheesesteaks as I could.  Alas, that number only reached 4.  I'd like to tell you about them, in order from my favorite to my least favorite.

My favorite cheesesteak was from John's Roast Pork.

I know what you're thinking.  The place is called John's Roast Pork, shouldn't you have gotten a roast pork sandwich?  I did.  This is what it looked like.

The signage at John's goes out of its way to remind you that this is spinach on the roast pork sandwich, and NOT broccoli rabe as one might expect.  This thing was delicious.  I ate half of it, and my wife handled the other half.  This left room for their cheesesteak.  Voilà:

Note how the steak and the onions (WIT baby) and the cheese are all cooked together so as to become homogenized.  This is what the imitation cheesesteaks around the country are doing wrong.  I've NEVER in my life had a cheesesteak this good.  Why can't restaurant folks make a pilgrimage to Philadelphia, take some detailed notes, and then make steaks like this?

My second favorite cheesesteak was from Ishkabibble's.

Specifically, it was from the Ishkabibble's II location. As usual when my wife and I are being tourists, we get around mostly on foot.  We had done a lot of walking all day, and though we had a nice dinner with plenty of drinks, I felt like a snack a little after.  It was a couple of miles on foot from where we were over to Ishkabibble's.  They are open gloriously late, and this thing of beauty really hit the spot.

I was so enthused that I might have been dancing in the street whilst carrying this steak.

My third favorite cheesesteak was from By George inside the Reading Terminal Market.

I love watching people cook.  I love eateries that let you watch people cook.  I had a clear view of the cheesesteak assembly process at this location. 

This was the only cheesesteak I had that came with sesame seeds.  Look:

Now, the sesame seeds certainly weren't necessary, but they did provide a nice textural contrast and a little nuttiness.  The steak was, once again, delicious.

My least favorite cheesesteak was at the airport on the way out.

Yes, I'm a seasoned traveler.  Yes, I should know better than to think that any airport food other than One Flew South is going to meet expectations.  However, I reasoned that I was still in Philadelphia, it couldn't be that bad.  Well, dear reader, I did not enjoy this cheesesteak.  I managed to eat all of it, but I did so begrudgingly.

Let's start with the bread.  It wasn't the right texture.  The steaks wasn't properly seasoned. Look how the cheese is separate from the meet and onions, instead of being one happy homogenized food substance.  This is the kind of cheesesteak you'd get in, say, Indiana.  This is not what you are looking for.

If your restaurant is called Mofongos, it would be reasonable to expect a Puerto Rican restaurant with mofongo prominently featured among the culinary offerings. This spot in North Hollywood fulfilled and surpassed both of those expectations on my recent visit. I don't have a Puerto Rican restaurant near me, so when I saw Mofongos was within easy walking distance of my hotel during my recent trip to the Los Angeles area, I knew I had to drop by for a visit.  Mofongo, after all, is delicious.

The restaurant is small, and has the feel of a family-run establishment. The kitchen wasn't visible, so I don't know how many people were back there cooking, but when I arrived, one of the employees was heading out, and the remaining person seemed to be the only one responsible for the front of the house the rest of the evening.  If memory serves, his name is Ángel, and he kindly put up with my insistence on speaking in Spanish.  (It's a Puerto Rican restaurant, we should speak in Spanish, you know?) I knew better than to try out my imitation of a Puerto Rican accent... I'm not good enough to pull that off with a native speaker.

Let's start with the namesake dish. Have a look at this picture right here:

Isn't that a thing of beauty?  I opted for the Mofongo de Carne Frita, which means that those are delightfully crunchy morsels of fried pork on top. Tostones came on the side, because more platano is never a bad thing, right?  This was delicious.  The broth was perfect, the mofongo was perfect, the pork was perfect, the tostones were perfect.  Now, a sensible person wouldn't have gotten anything else to eat, but not only am I not remotely sensible, I have some nostalgia for arroz con gandules.

See, a very grandmotherly grandmother who I know in my area is Puerto Rican. In the before times, when there would be a gathering, she always brought arroz con gandules. She even personally taught me how to make it once. Of course, I have never at any point been able to make mine taste like hers, even though I am certain I followed her instructions perfectly... but yeah, I don't try anymore. It's been awhile since I ran into arroz con gandules, so I got some of that on the side. 

Did I finish this?  No, not close.  I did, however, eat enough of it to find the olive that was hiding in there.  (Just like Milta's!) The flavor was spot on.  This leads me to believe that Mofongos has a Puerto Rican grandmother in the kitchen doing the cooking.

As a history nerd, eating food like this always makes me think of where delicious things might come from. Does mofongo bear a resemblance to fufu?  Yes, yes it does. Now, the reasons for that are, of course, horrific. Same reason that you don't meet anyone who speaks Taíno anymore. That said and acknowledged, one small nice thing that comes out of cultural collision is delicious food.  Mofongo is one of those things. If you happen to have access to North Hollywood, I strongly recommend you swing by Mofongos and try theirs.

The name of this restaurant describes exactly what they do and exactly what they are.  This is a cart with wheels, also known as a wagon.  They make and sell hamburgers.  That's it, that's the description.

Here is their website.

I've been hearing about this spot for years, and it's considered a local classic. They have been in business since the Great Dayton Flood. In fact, they owe their existence to the Great Dayton Flood.  I'll let you read about that history on their website, it's a fascinating story. What I am here to tell you about is my experience.

My wife and I headed to Miamisburg on a sweltering summer day around lunch time. There is a steady stream of customers at this spot, it's clearly beloved.  Some folks would come up and order 50 hamburgers, clearly planning to take them back to work and feed the entire office.  There were only two people inside the wagon on the day we visited.  One person handles the cooking.  The other person seasons and assembles the burgers with one gloved hand, and handles money with the other hand... these hands never touch each other, the money hand doesn't touch the food, and the food hand doesn't touch the money.

That's right, I said money.  Hamburger Wagon only accepts cash.

As for the menu, they make hamburgers.  They sell bagged chips.  They sell bottled drinks.  As a customer, you're getting your own drinks from the cooler and chips from the rack.  If you want a cheeseburger, well, too bad.  This is Hamburger Wagon, not "Cheeseburger Wagon."  By default, the hamburger comes with freshly sliced onion, a pickle, salt, and pepper.  If you do not like one or more of these things, you can ask for them to be omitted.  You are not getting anything else.  You are not getting ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, aioli, chutney, gochujang, hoisin, ranch, blue cheese, thousand island, barbecue sauce, peanut butter, jelly, lettuce, tomato, bacon, avocado, etc.  This is a simple hamburger with freshly sliced onion, pickle, salt, and pepper.  It is small.  You'll probably want more than one of them.

The hamburgers are cooked in what appears to be a large cast iron receptacle at the back of the wagon, in a great deal of boiling liquid fat.  They are coming out all sorts of well done, with some char and crunch around the edges.  This is what they do.  If you do not like this, do not visit Hamburger Wagon.

I loved my experience.  Though simple, the burgers are well seasoned, crunchy, and delicious.  It's probably not the healthiest thing to eat every day, but every once in awhile, it makes for a nice lunch.  I understand why it's so popular and beloved.  They figured out how to do one thing well, and they've done it the same way for over 100 years. Again, it's simple.  Good things don't need to be complicated.  If you happen to be carnivorous and also in the Dayton area, this is a place you should definitely try at least once.

It appeared on social media, seemingly out of nowhere, this guerilla style deliciousness, this purveyor of flavor with punk rock ethos, this underground Detroit style pizzeria.  Specifically, "Underground Detroit Style Pizzeria" is how they describe themselves on their Facebook page. I, for one, happen to love Detroit-style pizza, and since I don't spend a great deal of time in Detroit, I am in favor of finding someone who will make it somewhat closer to home.  The challenge is, well, you can't really find these folks.  They are somewhere out there, out of reach, and the only way to corral them is to get on their waiting list.  I did so as soon as I could, which was back in July 2021.

Finally, the last week of October, my turn came up.  The waiting list is clearly quite long, which means that business is good for these folks.  I received a message via Facebook Messenger, asking me to select the pizzas of my choice, and then to select from a limited amount of available pick-up times.  What happens if you cannot make any of the selected pickup times?  Well, your name goes back to the top of the queue, and the Pig Slice Pizza folks make a social media post saying that they have an opening, and it can be claimed immediately by the first person to message them. Thankfully, Misty and I were able to be available for one of the pick-up times.  We obtained two delicious pizzas.

This is the first one.

Here's the Pig Slice Pizza description for what you see above: 

The Original PigSlice Pepperoni Pizza. 

Detroit Style with house made sauce, mozzarella and provolone cheeses, topped with pepperoni and a hot honey drizzle and finished with parmesan and basil ribbons. 

You're gonna want this one every time.

My thoughts?  Well, this was delicious.  I love this style of pizza for the crunchy crust, the crispy bits of melted/charred cheese around the edges, and the doughy depth of the crust once you get past the crunch.  The sausage on top (pepperoni is a kind of sausage of course) also got some crispiness to the edges, which was nice. Also, a good way to get me to really like a food presentation visually is to chiffonade some basil.  The only objection I have here is the honey.  I don't need my pizza to be sweet, thank you.  When my turn comes up again in the queue in what will surely be several months from now, I'll either ask them to not add the honey to this one, or I'll make another selection.

Here is a picture of the other pizza.

Here's the accompanying Pig Slice Pizza description:

THE cheese pizza. 

House made sauce, mozzarella, romano and parmesan cheeses topped with seasoned ricotta, basil and thyme. 

Cheese on cheese on cheese on cheese.

This was also delicious, and hey look, there's more basil, and again with the chiffonade. This one is simple, but there's nothing wrong with simple if you execute it well.  The ricotta gave this a creamy mouth feel. I might have selected a different combination of cheeses, but there isn't anything wrong with this pie. I would certainly eat it again.

The folks at Pig Slice Pizza seem to be content being an underground establishment for now.  Really, I shouldn't even call them a "restaurant", as you can't show up and sit down and be fed.  When you are contacted for your selections, you are given a pickup time as I mention above... on the actual day of pickup, you get another message with the location where you make the pickup.  You arrive, message them that you have arrived, and someone brings you pizza.  It works, they don't have to deal with the overhead of having a permanent non-residential location, and their dance card is full, so I don't know that they really have any motivation to change their business model.

If you live in the greater Dayton area, go ahead and find these folks online and sign up for their wait list.  It's delicious pizza.

Unlike in the Midwest, which is my home, the word "barbecue" is generally a noun in the South.  It's meat, cooked slowly, via smoke.  Regionally, there are plenty of unique twists.  In some places, if they use sauce, it is vinegar based.  In some places, mustard based.  Some use a white sauce.  Others would tell you that sauce only covers up inferior meat, and it shouldn't be touched.  Depending on where you are, the local specialty may be ribs... or pulled pork... or chicken.  In Texas, brisket is what they tend to do.  They're quite proud of it.  Since I was in Austin last year, and a place that some experts call "the world's best barbecued brisket" is there, I had my heart set on getting some.  Alas, for this particular place, you need to plan ahead a lot sooner than I did, so it wasn't going to happen.  That said, I wanted to get brisket somewhere... but where?

The first person I asked was Simon Tam.  No, not the medical doctor on the run trying to keep the evil government away from his sister.  I mean the bassist and founder of The Slants.  He was a presenter at the conference I was attending, and has done extensive global travel.  He is also very much into delicious food.  His answer was lightning fast and definitive:  go to Terry Black's.   The second person I asked was a local Uber driver.  People that live in the community, they are going to know where the good brisket is, right?  I explained my disappointment that a visit to my first choice wasn't able to happen, and asked for a recommendation.  Terry Black's was the first of three recommendations given.  In fact, this particular person said he liked it better than my first choice.  There was definitely a third person who got the query from me on brisket, and I don't really remember much about her, but I certainly do remember that Terry Black's was the call.  Ok, Terry Black's it would be.

My wife and I made sure we were extra hungry one day, and went off to find brisket.  When it comes to the meats here, you pay by weight.  There is an army of professional meat cutters there, gloves on, knives at the ready, slicing pieces of brisket (and other meat products) to order.  I got plenty of brisket... some burnt ends, some extra fatty, some extra lean... you know, a variety.  I got some sausage as well.  For side dishes, I opted for mac & cheese, and "Mexican" rice.  Looking back on it, this was a tactical error.  Sure, the rice was just fine (not outstanding), and the mac & cheese was tasty enough, but all the sides do is take up valuable real-estate that could be better served by brisket.  I made sure to get some of the free accompaniments... pickles and onions... you know, some acidity to cut through the fattiness of the sausage and brisket.  Here's what you want to know:  Is the brisket good?  Well....

This was the best brisket I have had in my life, and it wasn't even close.  Sauce, though it was available, was not at all required.  The meat was replete with flavor from whatever these folks used for their dry rub, and from hours being exposed to smoke.  It was moist... even the "lean" pieces were juicy.  It was melt-in-your-mouth incredible.  The sausage was good too, much fattier than I expected, but in all the right tongue-coating ways.  My wife and I didn't get remotely close to finishing our food, so we packed it up, went back to the hotel, put it in the room's refrigerator, and finished it for breakfast the next day.  Get this... Terry Black's brisket was great even served cold first thing in the morning.  Trust me, you want this.

If perchance I make it back to Austin this year (not a guarantee, what with COVID-19 and all), I intend to go to Franklin's... but Terry Black's was great, and I wish to re-live this experience, so I'll head back there as well.  You can't have too much brisket, can you?

I have a vegan sister-in-law.  As a present to her, I made reservations at Le Potager de Charlotte when we went to Paris in the spring.  Note that I am definitely NOT vegan... but this place is fantastic, and even if you are an omnivore, if you happen to be in Paris, I recommend you stop by.

First, it's a family run restaurant.  There are two of them... one is in the 17th arrondisement, and the other is in the 9th.  One of the co-owners greeted us at the door and was also our server.  I like to support small businesses, especially the kind where the folks who own the place put so much work and energy into their restaurant.

Second, the food is outstanding.  Here, have a look at the menu. Note that some things on the menu change, based on what kind of vegetation happens to be fresh and in season. 

I started with the chickpea and rice crêpes.  (A side note to the folks at Le Potager de Charlotte... I'm an anglophone, and personally, I think it sounds strange to call these "pancakes".  Sure, they're thicker than your normal French crêpes, but I feel that your English-speaking customers know what a crêpe is without needing to translate it.  Just my opinion.)  You can see a picture of this starter on their website.  That cashew cream filling... wow.  It tasted fatty and cheesy, and the espelette powder on it added just a small background spiciness.  This was outstanding.  As you can see in the picture, it was served on some mixed salad.  No complaints about this course.  For my second course, I had another entrée, the avocado.  This is where I wish I had taken a picture.  It was basically a riff on a hard-boiled egg... but this is a vegan place, so the avocado was standing in for the solidified egg white.  The substance that made up the "yolk" was a deep yellow color, no doubt due to turmeric... and also a creamy and fatty mouth feel... see, this is the challenge with vegan food to me... how to make up for the taste and texture requirements where animal-based fats traditionally exist in a recipe.  These folks were super successful doing so.

I had small tastes of what my wife and her sister had ordered.  One of them got soup.  It was good, but could have used more salt. I forget what the other one got... suffice it to say that every bite I had was delicious.  Again, let me repeat... I am NOT vegan.

As for dessert... well, the description doesn't do it justice.  The picture doesn't either, but here it is anyway:

Coconut whipped cream... and the texture was fantastic.  Roasted hazelnuts.  Beautiful flowers (yes, I ate them).  Chocolate powder.  Under all of that stuff was this substance that strongly resembled chocolate mousse... turns out they make that with avocado... they need the fat for the right texture... but you couldn't taste avocado, it tasted like chocolate mousse.  This dessert was delicate and flavorful, and I would eat it again any day.

Wonderful food aside, let me tell a brief story about our arrival experience in order to show just how great the folks were here.  The day we had this reservation was our first day in the country, and I made the reservation at a normal French dinner time (read: very late for your average American) in order to force us all to be awake and active all day so we could sleep well that first night and beat the jet lag.  Well, through no fault of my own, we were running quite late to dinner.  No worries, I called the restaurant and told them that we would be late.  See, the restaurants are small, so if someone misses a reservation, that costs them money... they combat this by charging your credit card if you don't show up.  Well, when I called from the phone of the apartment we had rented, I managed to call the wrong location.  They are a small enough business that they could handle this... the very nice lady who I talked to said she would pass the message along.

Fast forward.  We are late, and we take Métro line 12 to Notre-Dame-de-Lorette.  Now, I've been to Paris many times, and know my way around some parts of town very very well... well enough that on more than one occasion, I have been able to give directions to actual French people.  This part of town is not one of the ones I know.  I had never been to this Métro station, nor had I been to this part of the 9th.  When we exit the Métro... chaos.  It's one of those odd French intersections where multiple roads converge in a less-than-logical fashion.  On top of that, there is construction.  On top of that, the street signage leaves much to be desired.  We get lost.  I am not often lost in Paris, so this was frustrating.  We wander one way, and when that clearly is wrong, we wander another way... and then I decide to wander into a local hotel to ask for directions.  The folks in the hotel are not familiar with this restaurant, and are also not familiar with the street it is on... but I was able to point out to them on one of their hotel tourist maps where I thought it was, and they were able to tell us how to walk in that direction.  Ok, finally headed the right way... and from that point, it's only about 15 minutes to get to the place.  We get there, and we are so late... very much later than we had possibly foreseen.  We're so late that they have locked the front door, as they're not letting any more folks into the restaurant.. However, upon seeing us, they open the door and ask if I am Mike.  I say that I am and explain that we got terribly lost getting there on foot, and profusely apologize in the most respectful French I could summon.  The very kind co-owner gentleman who I mentioned before lets a sigh of relief and immediately shows us to the table that had been reserved for us.  We received a fantastically warm welcome.

To sum up... food outstanding, service outstanding, experience unforgettable, you should go here if ever you are in Paris.

With the caveat that I've never been to Japan, please be aware that the best sushi I have ever had can be found in Toledo, Ohio... at Kengo. 

This is a small restaurant in downtown Toledo, run by Kengo Kato.  When I say small, I mean small.  There are only 23 seats here.  Only 5 of those seats are available for reservations (more details on that later).  If you stop by and it is full - and it often is - you write your name and party size on a green chalkboard and you wait in a line off to the side.  While you wait, you can enjoy some excellent cocktails, beer, wine, sake, or other beverage of your choice.  Once you get seated, the fun truly begins.

Kengo told me on one visit that he and the kitchen staff arrive each day at noon.  The restaurant opens at 5:00.  What are they doing with that time?  All kinds of prep... breaking down fish, meat, vegetables... preparing sauces and accompaniments... planning the menu... see, the menu changes daily, based on what ingredients are fresh and based on what Chef Kengo feels like serving.

Let's say you want to be assured of a seat.  In that case, you should make an omakase reservation.  The Internet tells me that "omakase" means "I'll leave it up to you" in Japanese.  If you make this reservation, you get to sit at one of the 5 seats at the sushi bar, right in front of Kengo's work space.  You'll be eating the specific menu that he has planned for you, in a specific order.  I recently had this experience.  Let me show you what my visit was like.

The first course was described as "cold dashi egg tofu".  It was essentially a custard -and may have been made out of either egg or silken tofu, based on the texture - covered in dashi.  That's a shrimp sitting on top there.  Course two was a salad.  Arugula, radish, and pomegranate arils, tossed in a pretty classic vinaigrette, topped with smoked Muscovy Duck breast.  I asked, they smoke the breast themselves.  That third course is fried soft-shell crab, and it was every bit as fantastic as you think it was.

After these appetizer-type courses, it was time for the yakitori portion of our meal.

These were assorted delicious things cooked over fire, speared with a stick, then placed on a nice wood board.  Chicken thigh, shiitake mushroom, chicken meatballs, pork belly... togarashi on the side of the board.  These were all delicious.  It seems like it would be easy for a chicken meatball to be dry... but these were not.

After this, sushi.

Bluefin Otoro.  Hamachi.  Salmon.  Skipjack.  Madai, with some pickled daikon and chili on top.  Uni wrapped in some seaweed.  WAGYU.

Kengo seasoned all of these before presenting them to us with the correct amount of their house made soy sauce.  After taking a picture, I picked up each piece with the best tools I own - my fingers - and popped them into my mouth.  

One more course.  A roll.  Tuna, pickled daikon, green onion.  Simple, delicious.  This was it:

Understandably, this is a very popular restaurant in Toledo.  Every time I have visited, the place has been full.  On my first couple of visits, I ended up waiting in that line I mentioned earlier... from now on, I think I'll go with the omakase option.  You get right up close to Kengo and his sous chefs as they work, and you get to have some nice conversation with them.  Also, every time I have visited, they run out of something... yes, they get enough traffic that they sell out of a few of their menu options during the course of the day.  If you decide to visit, and you opt to not try the omakase, I recommend you get there as close to their 5:00 opening time as possible.

If perchance you wish for a second opinion, here's a newspaper article from the Toledo Blade.

Summary:  Kengo and all of his staff members are warm and friendly.  They work very hard.  They clearly take pride in their craft, using high quality ingredients, and then executing well.  They cheerfully shout a Japanese greeting whenever someone walks into the restaurant, and shout a Japanese farewell when they exit.  I always look forward to my next visit, and strongly recommend Kengo to anyone who even remotely likes sushi.

When I was in my early twenties, I stayed with a friend a couple of times in the 15th arrondisement in Paris.  Because I spent so much time in that part of town, I became familiar with an Italian restaurant there, and I would visit them on every return trip.  This was one of my go-to lunch spots in Paris.  I liked it because it was out of the path of the crowds of tourists... a normal neighborhood restaurant, and at no point had I ever seen any other Americans there.  It is, therefore, with just a little bit of sadness that I must admit this restaurant has been replaced.

On my spring trip to Paris, my corporate colleague Guido was kind enough to take the time to meet me for lunch one day near our apartment in the 14th.  (We ate at a Lebanese place, but that's a story for another blog entry.)  Guido lives in Paris, but he is Italian, from the north, near Lake Como.  I showed him a picture of the pizza I had consumed at the aforementioned Italian restaurant in the 15th.  Guido was disappointed in my selection.  He then recommended an alternative.  He said to go to Arrivaderci.  He's Italian.  I'm not.  He would know better.  

I dragged my wife and my in-laws with me to Arrivaderci on Thursday 11th April.  It's in the 5th.  We arrived near the end of lunch time, but managed to get there before the restaurant closed.  Upon entering, I was greeted with a hearty "Buon Giorno!".  I replied in kind, and then said that there were four of us in the best Italian I could manage.  Then, I immediately switched back to French and apologized for not speaking decent Italian.  

We were seated.  We were brought menus.  Dish names in Italian.  Descriptions in French.  Ok.  

I started with the salmon carpaccio.  THIS salmon carpaccio:

It was outstanding.  

The folks here take pride in their pizza, and an actual Italian told me that it was good, so I had to try it.  Mine looked like this:

Now, I've read about Neapolitan style pizza, mostly due to pizza enthusiast Keith Law.  This was my first experience with the real thing.  I had always wondered what the taste and texture was like when he would describe the center as being "wet"... well, now I know.  Also, LOOK at that char on the crust.  This was the best pizza I have ever had.  Not close.  So yeah, apologies to the folks in the 15th, but I won't be visiting you for pizza anymore.  This is my new favorite Italian restaurant in Paris.

We were there well after closing time, and we saw the staff leave one-by-one.  Some of them might head back to the restaurant for the dinner service, some of them perhaps had other jobs.  I apologized on our behalf for keeping them there well past when they would normally have closed up shop, began cleaning, and taken their afternoon rest.  Upon mentioning that I am a musician, Gaitano and Antonio immediately found my album and started streaming it on the restaurant speakers.  That was a very cool life moment.

I listened to the staff talk to each other... yes, all in Italian.  Antonio told me that the only ingredient they have in the place that is French (local) is the water... which comes out of the tap.  All of their ingredients, they import from Italy.  I totally understand why my colleague Guido comes here.  If he is feeling homesick, this has to be the spot.

There is no shortage of Italian restaurants in Paris.  There are surely hundreds and hundreds of places you can get pizza.  I strongly doubt you'll find a better one than here.  Outstanding food, very friendly staff.  I can't wait to go back.