Put some honey on that pizza, sir.

Oh, yes. You heard me right.

See, a couple of weeks ago, my friend Richard (Who's my cousin's wife's brother - so sort of my cousin, right?) invited a few of us to his place for drinks and guacamole. He's living in an adorable new apartment in Bedford-Stuyvesant, and is ever-so-close to the famous Bushwick hipster pizza mecca, Roberta's.

So after a delightful bowl of cilantro-free guacamole and a delicious rum, lime and coconut water cocktail, we headed over to Roberta's for dinner. It was a balmy night, so we passed our waiting time (expected when one visits such a destination) in the garden bar (the menu of which is pictured above) - a space which, to this Manhattanite, seemed positively gracious in size - then headed indoors for some serious noshing.

Our salads (one with asparagus and one a delicious take on a Caesar) were lovely, and all three of the pizzas we ordered were great. The very best one, though, was an off-menu specialty called the Bee Sting. It was a red pizza, and its sauce spiked with spicy peppers. Setting off the heat? A swirl of honey (from local Brooklyn bees, I'd bet). The sweet honey played beautifully against the earthy tomatoes and provided hints of relief from the spicy heat. It was, in short, awesome.

So, yeah. Spike that sauce with some peppers, and throw some honey down on it. You won't regret it.

Flour, water and a pinch of alchemy.

On the Sunday night I spent in San Francisco, Faith, her friend Chrysanthe and I headed over to the Mission to pay a visit to one of the hottest restaurants in town, Flour and Water. Seriously. This place was hopping. We called early in the week to try for a reservation, but no luck. We lined up at 5:15 with about twenty other people, and the place was full from opening till, I assume, closing time at midnight. (Which is pretty late for San Francisco.)

Once we'd eaten our dinner, though, it was easy to see why everyone else wanted to eat there, too. It was one of the best meals I've had in a while, and I cannot wait to make a return trip. We started off with a pizza to share. Flour and Water is Italian, mostly, and heavily focused on pizza and pasta (hence the name). Faith had been the week before and couldn't stop thinking about the ramp and black trumpet pizza, so, naturally, we couldn't help but order it.

It was awesome. The crust was chewy, slightly crispy perfection. The pizza was topped with a pecorino, black trumpet mushrooms, chopped ramps (green and white parts) and a bright green ramp pesto. It was suitably stinky, the cheese was gooey, and the whole thing made me very, very happy.

We then moved on to appetizers. Faith ordered a side dish instead of a salad: roasted carrots with lemon, capers and very finely chopped chives. These were carrots taken to another level. They were roasted in butter, and were sweet without being cloying, tender but not mushy. The capers added a salty, briny note, and the chives freshened things up. All in all, a major hit.

My starter was a "salad" - Flour and Water likes to use the term loosely - of crispy lamb sweetbreads, arugula and artichokes. Artichokes aren't normally my favorite thing, but these were perfect with the sweetbreads. Lamb sweetbreads tend to be a bit creamier than their veal counterparts, and these were no exception. The bitterness of the arugula paired with the astringent flavor of the artichokes helped cut through the fat. Fantastic.

Next up, our pastas. The pastas were all made in-house, and were incredibly fresh. Mine was a tagliolini (a lighter fettucine, essentially) with chopped parsley rolled into the pasta itself. Tossed with the noodles (and with a copious amount of butter) were razor thin slices of asparagus and hand-pulled pieces of braised hen. I loved this. The pasta was impossibly light and delicate, but the sauce, despite its springy flavors, was rich and hearty. Rich flavors, light texture, pure deliciousness.

Faith ordered pici in a brothy pork ragu, which was also delicious. It was one of the lightest ragus I've tasted, free of cream or milk, and swimming in its own juices. Little bits of carrot and onion floated in the sauce, too, and meat itself was tender and deeply porky.

Finally, dessert. Oh, dessert. First up was a rhubarb tart, served with crème fraiche ice cream and fresh strawberries. It was fantastic, right down to the swirl of grassy olive oil on the plate. The pastry was rich with butter, and shattered a bit when cut with a fork. It paired beautifully with the tart rhubarb and sweet berries; rhubarb season has ended in California now, I think - it was great to be there while it was still on every menu.

Last, we had a chocolate budino, which is an Italian-style pudding. It was topped with coffee-flavored cream and a crucial, generous sprinkling of crunchy sea salt. I don't always go for the chocolate dessert, but I couldn't get enough of this one. The salt and coffee made it interesting - and it was pretty good with some of the crème fraiche ice cream from the tart plate. Yum.

Guys, I can't speak highly enough of this restaurant. It was a delicious meal. The service was great - attentive but not fawning, and very, very friendly. The room is warm and welcoming, with just the right amount of buzz. If you can get in, go. If you can't, go early and wait, like we did. It's worth it.

Flour and Water
2401 Harrison Street (at 20th Street)
San Francisco, California
415.826.7000

The trendiest pizza on earth.

Last Sunday, I met my friends Caroline and Emily for brunch at Pulino's, Keith McNally's latest restaurant, and the newest addition to the now-completely-gentrified corner of Bowery and Houston. McNally is the force behind the Odéon, Balthazar, Schiller's Liquor Bar, Pastis...you get the idea. He specializes in creating buzz paired with seemingly time-worn atmosphere, and Pulino's is no exception to the rule.

Ostensibly a pizza restaurant (McNally hired San Francisco's Nate Appleman to create the menu and run the joint), it's first and foremost a gathering place for hipsters, hangers-on and (at brunch, at least) downtown parents and their children.

The three of us decided to share a few things, starting with an appetizer of asparagus, ramps and rhubarb. The dish was clearly meant to be a celebration of early spring, featuring the season's three star ingredients. The grassy asparagus, tart rhubarb and stinky ramps actually went quite well together; the flavors weren't revolutionary, but it was tasty. The dish was completely overwhelmed, however, by two things: the mound of far-too-peppery black pepper mascarpone hiding beneath the asparagus, and the price: $14.

Next, we tried the margherita pizza, which we ordered with an egg on top. The pizza was very good - crisp but still chewy, and the sauce, cheese and basil were each top-notch. The egg was put on a bit early and the yolk was cooked all the way through, which was a bit disappointing. Overall, though, it's a solid pizza.

The star of the meal, by far, was the sweet pizza we shared as a dessert. It was topped with pecorino, pears, cinnamon and sugar (and, my guess is, a bit of butter). It was just sweet enough, and the pears were still a bit firm and not at all mushy. We devoured this, licked our fingers, and resolved to come back and order a large one very, very soon.

Pulino's
282 Bowery (at Houston Street)
212.226.1966

A classic.

When I stepped off the bus in Rhode Island a few weeks back, Aunt Cathi declared that we would do some shopping for dinner, and then visit Al Forno for a pizza and cocktails.

I'd heard of Al Forno, but had never visited before. Legendary in New England for its thin-crust pizzas and n0-reservations policy, Al Forno has been central to Providence's dining scene since the day it opened in 1980. For years I listened to people on eGullet wax eloquent about Al Forno's superlative pizza - and now, finally, here was the chance to try for myself.

Since we arrived about five minutes after the restaurant opened at 5 o'clock, Cathi and I were able to snag a table in the arbor-covered garden, where we ordered a margherita pizza and two cosmopolitans.

The cosmos arrived first. Now, as you all know, I am much more a gin girl than a vodka girl - but these cosmos really were spectactular. They were what cosmos are supposed to be. The sickly, syrupy pink cocktails you saw on Sex And The City were a poor substitute for a good cosmopolitan. A proper cosmo should put you in mind of a slightly pink gimlet (made with fresh lime juice), not a CapriSun.

These were proper cosmos.

Then came the pizza. What can I say? It was delicious. The tomato sauce was rich with deep flavor, the two kinds of cheese (mozzarella and parmesan) contrasted fresh with rich, and the shaved scallions on top lent the pizza a fresh, peppery bite that I loved.

I see what all the fuss is about, and I'll definitely be back.