Photo: Santino Dixon
At 60 seconds, it's a dough ball. At 120 seconds, it's charcoal. At 90 seconds, it's perfect.
As desperately tired as I am of Vincent Van Gogh puns, I don’t really care what Sabert Lewis calls his mobile wood-fired pizza business—the pies he churns out are blissful slices of traditional Neapolitan mouth sex. The crusts are as toasty and tender as a tryst on the Amalfi coast.
Indeed, Lewis has dubbed his Albuquerque-based business
. Never mind that
Van Gogh
was Dutch and probably couldn’t tell the difference between a San Marzano tomato and a wedge of his own ear, bad puns prevail among aspiring epicurean entrepreneurs.
But none of that matters when Lewis tows his trailer-mounted oven rig (I’m guessing a “concessionaire tandem” model built by Boulder, Colo.’s The Fire Within) up to your event or doorstep, fires up a load of aged oak and starts properly kneading pizza crusts with his practiced fingers.
I recently saw Lewis in action at the somewhat legendary Lisa & Willow’s Annual Birthday Bash, which takes place at an undisclosed location north of Santa Fe. There was a thick crowd surrounding the oven, but it was nothing a little good-natured shoving and shin kicking couldn’t solve.
Lewis’ contraption is bizarre: The oven looks like it could have been lifted straight out of a cozy pizzeria in Napoli, but it sits atop a custom trailer with rims that would look more natural on a
bitchin’ Camaro
. There’s room to stow refrigerated ingredients and the long-handled peels used to manipulate the pies.
A few years ago, Lewis built a stationary
wood-fired oven
in his backyard. His hobby became an obsession and, finally, a business.
The Neapolitan tradition is something taken seriously at Pizza Van Go. Lewis adheres to the strict code of the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana, which makes several demands: only fresh-made mozzarella, only San Marzano tomatoes, and nothing in the dough but high-protein flour, yeast, salt and water. When the oven is up to temperature, Lewis cooks his pizzas at 900 degrees for 90 seconds. I think he served seven varieties that night, and every one of them was good.
That said, the simplest toppings most effectively complement the finely crafted crust. The
marinara
—a cheeseless pizza with tomato, garlic, basil, oregano and drizzled olive oil— is a near-perfect mouthful of food. Lewis includes several other classics on his menu, such as a
bianca
(mozzarella, prosciutto, arugula, Parmesan and white truffle oil), a
soppressata picante
with spicy salami, and the straightforward and well-known
margherita
. He puts a twist on the
pizza diavolo
(the meatiest of the bunch, with both sausage and salami) by adding
New Mexico
green
chile
and working ricotta cheese into the crust.
Although his Neapolitan playbook demands adherence to certain rules when he flies his Napoli banner, Lewis is likewise compelled by the locavore movement and uses
New Mexico
-sourced ingredients whenever possible. He’ll be serving pies at Albuquerque’s Local Food Festival and Field Day on June 6, and has promised to come up with some inventive all-local offerings. The next chance Santa Feans have to sample Pizza Van Go’s nubile crusts is at the June 12 and 13
l at Eaves Movie Ranch. It’s safe to predict long lines.
Hiring Lewis to parade his pizzas for your private party runs about $14 per person, assuming you have enough guests to make it worthwhile. He also has packages with appetizers, salads and beverages that range from $500 (serves 30 people) to $1,400 (serves up to 120 people).
A lot of people consider building a wood-fired oven or an horno in their backyards. But it’s one of those things that most of us never get around to or, worse, that become unused eyesores and black widow homes. Now, we can just call the dude with the oven on a trailer.
