03/10/2025: Quiet place, excellent pizzoli, friendly staff!
15/09/2025: It was the evening of September 13th, exactly 10 p.m., when three daring adventurers (me and two companions) decided to challenge the unknown gastronomic world of Sortino. Our destination? A 1960s-style pizzeria so out of the way it almost seemed like an urban legend.
The odyssey began as soon as we entered: amidst bewildered glances and packed tables, we finally managed to secure a table like heroes returning from battle. Seated triumphantly, we ordered: two golden fries, a fragrant pizza, two solemn pizzoli. But the wait, alas, was as long as a South American soap opera: biblical times to see the food, so much so that we could have sung a Gregorian chant while waiting.
When the food finally appeared, it was like the apparition of a mirage: excellent food, authentic flavors, generous portions. But here's the twist: the first pizzolo arrived at the table, not cut like a classic round pizzolo, but carved without any earthly geometry, almost a Dadaist work of art. Perplexed and amused, we tackled this culinary conundrum armed with knives and good will.
The staff, despite being entangled in a thousand tasks, were friendly and good-natured, and this alone, given the circumstances, deserved the audience's applause.
When it came time for dessert, we discovered that the dessert kingdom was deserted: no tiramisu, no cassatina, no cannoli to comfort us. Only a pizza with Nutella or pistachio, a sort of mythological creature half gluttony and half cholesterol challenge. We decided, like good, prudent knights, not to tackle it.
And while the innkeeper, with a paternal gesture, offered us the house amaro, we declined, too full for further displays of courage.
Thus ended our epic: a vintage pizzeria with slow service but a big heart, where imperfection becomes color and every wait a story to be told.