Sietsema Review A Meal's Moving Parts A wood-burning oven and a conveyor belt play starring roles at two local eateries By Tom Sietsema The Washington Post Magazine Sunday, Dec. 17, 2006 The wood-burning, igloo-size oven in the back of Mia's Pizzas in Bethesda seems familiar, and so does the baked dough that emerges from it. The crust is thin, with a fine yeasty flavor, and a top and bottom that show signs of having been gently licked by flames. When I close my eyes and chew, my thoughts turn to Georgetown's Pizzeria Paradiso, which is where the owner and namesake of Mia's Pizzas, veteran chef Melissa Ballinger, worked for about a year before venturing out on her own. Squeezed between a sports bar and a Vietnamese restaurant, the new pizzeria is somewhat hidden. But that hasn't stopped the masses from descending on the place, which might be the most cheerful pizza parlor in the area. The room is trim and tidy, with floors of knotty pine and walls painted in soft shades of yellow and green. Daylight pours through the broad front windows and an overhead skylight. If you're considering Mia's for a cheap date (and you should), you might want to visit later in the evening, after the families who like to eat early have left. (Their presence explains the crayon-crafted pictures on display near the bar.) The pizza toppings are as simple as tomato and fresh mozzarella, and as non-Italian as barbecue chicken with smoked gouda. In between, diners can pick from among nearly a dozen arrangements. A carnivore at heart, I tend to head for the "salsiccia," decorated with sausage and pepperoni, and the "Alsace," true to its title with sweet onions, Gruyere cheese and diced ham. Far less of a treat is the "rustico," which is scattered with a vapid pesto and undercooked potato slices. "It needs salt," I whisper to my tablemate. "It needs flavor ," he amends. I have no such quibbles with a sandwich of salami, pepperoni, fontina cheese, caramelized onions and soft peppers -- a delicious kitchen sink slipped between slices of house-baked foccacia. Mia's is more than just pizza and sandwiches at night, when the menu expands to include a handful of entrees. If you order a savory dish without a crust or a bread cover, however, you risk disappointment. Fine as a solo act, a slab of rockfish is held back by its cold broccoli rabe and excessive bed of fennel. And "mallet" chicken, named for the way the chicken is pounded before searing, is pretty humdrum eating, as is its dull "smashed" potato. But I'm getting ahead of myself. If you want to ease into a pie, consider a salad, and make it a plate of chopped romaine, a pretty toss that packs in plenty of flavor, thanks to diced beets, bacon and blue cheese. The starter is cool and biting. More robust are steamed mussels, piled high in their bowl and treated to a nice bath of ginger-spiked tomato that's good enough to be served as a soup; wedges of toasted bread prolong the pleasure after the seafood is gone. Ballinger throws in a few other comforts, including mustardy deviled eggs, and macaroni and cheese -- mac and cheese before pizza? -- that begs rethinking: Mia's version finds bow-tie pasta in a wet goop of cheese, with no crunchy topping to balance the equation. The wine prices at Mia's encourage me to drink beer. While the choices are perfectly acceptable for pizza, they look like what you could find in the supermarket -- and I'm not talking Whole Foods. Fat Bastard shiraz and Columbia Crest merlot show little imagination on the part of the buyer, and the prices show plenty of chutzpah: Some of the bottles are marked up four times the wholesale price. Next trip to Mia's, I'll ask for Duvell, the Belgian golden ale, which costs $10 here and comes in a 25-ounce bottle A tray of cupcakes sits on the counter where the pizzas are made. Some days, the flavors are chocolate (frosting) on chocolate (cake), other days might find vanilla on vanilla. The home-baked desserts, occasionally flecked with candy sprinkles, call to the kid in us, and they're not so big that you can't find room for one after some pizza. The kitchen also makes a dense, not-too-sweet cheesecake, and a fruit crisp that bows to the season, with pears and cranberries beneath a crunchy cover. They're all worthy companions to the featured attraction -- and they all help us forgive Mia's growing pains.
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