Flame Pizzeria

A Tale of Two Cities

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.  No, I am not trying to resurrect nightmares of Mrs. Jones’ 11^th grade English class so, dear reader, you can stop sweating bullets and put away your Cliffs Notes.

As dissimilar as the London and Paris of Dickens were, any distinctions are dwarfed by the City and the Valley.  As I discussed in my review of Dear John’s, I grew up a City boy, only a howitzer’s distance away from that Culver City venue.  I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I knew nothing about the Valley.  There was an impenetrable, invisible force field running along Mulholland Dr. at the crest of the Santa Monica Mountains.  Not only could one not physically penetrate the force field, it seemed to prevent any type of communication including broadcast or telephonic. When the Valley tried to secede from the City, I was shocked that the vote was not 100% pro because everyone in the Valley wanted the divorce and everyone in the City would say good riddance.

But the times they are a-changin’ and even your humble reviewer must face the reality of twice the house for half the price.  So when the whelps arrived, the trendy socialite couple living in the lofty heights of Bel Air fled to the West Valley.  We traded coral tree-lined San Vicente Blvd. for billboard-lined Ventura Blvd., a view of the ocean from Palisades Park in Santa Monica for a view of the Nike Missile Control Site in Encino and Mozza Pizza for Chuck E. Cheese.    

What did this do to our gastronomic options?  Imagine you are working the reservation desk of a top-flight restaurant.  Which area code will you reserve an “A” table for?   The prestige of 310, the Hollywood style and fame of 323, the Arts District trendiness of 213 or middle class 818?   Please keep your answer to yourselves.   

So I was overjoyed when Flame Pizzeria opened in the solar plexus of the Valley, Reseda.  Flame is the brainchild of celebrity chef Richie Florczak.  Richie set up shop in 2016 after having been an exclusive private chef for Hollywood aristocracy including Tom Cruise and Mel Gibson.  Pizza, however, was always Richie’s passion.  He spent five years perfecting the crust before venturing into this highly competitive market.  Once he was finally ready to present his pizza to the public, Flame Pizzeria was inaugurated in an understated strip-mall across the street from the nightclub The Canby, where bands such as The Drunken Pond Scum and The Purple Helmets got their start before flaming out like the meteors they were.  Flame is flanked on one side by See’s Candies and on the other by Turner’s Outdoorsman, a hunting, shooting and fishing specialty store that prides itself on the largest selection of handguns and ammo in SoCal.  Just before arriving at Flame, I picked up a semi-auto Glock at Turner’s, because one never knows what can happen in the Wild West environs of the Valley.

At my first foray to Flame Pizzeria, I was accompanied by my movie producer friend, Morrie Grossman.  We were immediately cocooned by the warm, homey smell of the pizzas and the comforting décor including walls covered with brick and mahogany.  There is a bar that serves craft beer and wines with an adjacent dining area that extends to the back of the restaurant.  The ceiling is festooned by strings of small party lights which add to the relaxed, intimate atmosphere.  The centerpiece of the restaurant is the open kitchen with a 700 degree wood-fired pizza oven.  Richie immediately recognized Morrie as the author of a classic book of reviews of dive restaurants in Los Angeles and was excited to have celebrities as renowned as his former employers visit his new digs.

Since that initial excursion, I have revisited Flame many times.  At Flame, one is served twice the food for half the price compared to high-end pizzerias in the City without any sacrifice in quality, style or originality.  Neapolitan style pizza is served that has a thin crust at the base surrounded by a thicker puff of dough around the periphery with a small amount of char.  The crust is both crunchy and chewy.  One can choose from some of Richie’s original concoctions such as the Lindsey (seasoned three cheese blend composed of mozzarella, parmesan and asiago, fresh garlic, thyme, oregano, baby arugula and balsamic glaze), the Nana (fresh mozzarella, caramelized onions, thinly sliced potatoes, fresh dill and truffle oil, finished with flaky sea salt) or the eponymous Richie (spicy arrabbiata sauce with fresh mozzarella, Genoa salami and fennel sausage). There is also the option of starting with a Margherita pizza and designing one’s own combo from the above toppings or other choices including meatballs, prosciutto, oven-roasted mushrooms and red peppers.

Flame serves a huge Caesar salad of the size to satisfy the diner who plans to conquer Gaul.  Crisp, cold romaine lettuce is tossed with giant homemade croutons, Parmesan cheese and anchovies and generously dressed with olive oil, lemon juice, Dijon mustard, egg yolk and hints of Worcestershire sauce and minced garlic.

A house specialty is the Thousand Layer Potatoes appetizer.  Golden Yukon potatoes are sliced into ribbons with the skins still on to add crispness.  They are mixed with a touch of smoked salt flakes then tightly layered in a baking pan with Asiago cheese, cream, garlic, parsley and thyme.  The dish is baked in the wood-fire oven for several hours until golden brown.   This is the type of decadence associated with Richie’s Hollywood days, now available to us plebes in the Valley.

Now to the piece de résistance, the raison d’être, the jewel in the crown of the king of this provincial pizzeria:  the pie itself.  There is a perpetual War of the Roses between the red and the white so, diplomat that I am, I will present both.  The Lily is a white feta cheese pizza with fire-roasted red pepper and sundried tomato tapenade, Kalamata olives and Greek cut oregano.

My personal favorite is the simple margherita pizza with soppresatta and caramelized onions.

Introducing my readers to a great restaurant find in the Valley is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done.  Sydney Carton, gazing down upon us mortals from heaven, must be envious that he did not sacrifice himself for such a noble and virtuous cause.