Pizza al Taglio

In a small, unassuming pizzeria in a shopping plaza on the outskirts of Rome, I ate the greatest slice of pizza I’ve ever had. It was rectangular, about ¾ inch high, slicked with a nearly imperceptible varnish of tomato sauce, and topped with soppressata, oozy provolone and mozzarella cheeses, and paper-thin slices of potato. The sauce, soppressata, and cheeses combined for a salty-savory punch, and the potatoes—not something I would normally think to include on pizza—were lightly crisped, browned, and curled at the edges. But the best part of this pizza was the crust: full of irregularly sized holes, tender and chewy in equal measure, with an audibly crisp yet delicate bottom and a yeasty, tangy, complex flavor.

This memorable slice turned out to be a Roman invention known as . Though it’s baked in rectangular pans and cut into slabs like Sicilian pizza, its bubbly crumb and delicately crisp bottom bear more of a resemblance to good focaccia. And though the toppings on the slice I enjoyed had been applied before the crust went into the oven so they could cook and brown, pizza al taglio can also resemble an open-faced sandwich, with fresh or uncooked items such as salad greens, soft cheeses, or cured meats piled on when the crust comes out of the oven. Roman pizzerias adorn it in a variety of ways and display it behind glass in deli-style cases, where means “by the cut”).