An unconventional approach to Neapolitan pizza yields delicious results in downtown Tacoma

Marshall Jett was raised in Connecticut, a state with, by some measures, more pizzerias per capita (3.65) than any other, many fitting neatly into an East Coast pizza sub-genre. Washington — his home of three decades — has twice as many residents but only about 1.5 pizza shops for every 10,000 people, but here, each pizzeria seems to be different from the rest.

At his new restaurant in downtown Tacoma, Jett’s pizza (not to be confused with Jet’s Pizza, a Detroit-style franchise) adheres to that unwritten rule of singularity. First, these pies are not pizza but APIZZA, pronounced with the historical emphasis of the Italian immigrants from Campanga, about an hour southeast of Naples, who introduced their Neapolitan-adjacent style of “ah-beets” to New Haven in the 1920s.

They are thin and crispy toward the perimeter but wet in the middle, nurturing what Jett calls “the pizza tug.” The crust should not shatter or tear too easily. You must work for it, but not too much — just enough that your incisors can feel the moment between contact and crunch time.

On the Vesuvius, one of 25 house pies split evenly between carne (meat) and verdura (veggie), nubs of hot Italian sausage sourced from Kirkland’s Cascioppo Meats cozied up to generous mounds of fresh ricotta. Realizing these are not one-hand slices, I lusted after the first taste of Calabrian chiles and their spicy cherry undertones, accentuated by minced curly parsley and “Italian herbs,” one of Jett’s signature moves.

Also atop most APIZZA pies: California tomatoes or a garlic-soaked olive oil, and a mozz-heavy cheese blend with whispers of salty parmesan and romano.

You can order any pie as a 16-inch, which would be typical of the New Haven style, or as a more manageable 12-inch. We opted for a smaller margherita — the true test — with julienned basil waved post-bake.

The larger pies seem to gain more of the coveted cornicione, spending two to three more minutes in the oven, but some might prefer the consistently sturdy bottom of the 12-inch.

That you can have both at APIZZA is an extension of Jett’s quirky, confident approach.

For almost 20 years, he operated a pizzeria and Italian catering company in Seattle, beginning with a farmers market operation that inspired the dough you’ll taste here. Being outdoors, he explained, called for a recipe that would come together quickly in a mixing bowl and would benefit from hand-kneading.

“It worked perfectly to give me the air, lightness and slightly charred, hollow crust I was looking for,” he said.

It’s rested for as little as a day or up to three in the cooler. To order, rather than tossing, he uses a rolling pin and an old-fashioned tug-tug-tug on the outer edges to flatten the dough balls to about the thickness of a tortilla.

“Totally unorthodox,” he admitted, “but this is our style.”

When you walk in the door at 821 Pacific Ave., he will likely be the first person you see behind the glass — if you’re not distracted by the finished pies in the front windows showing off today’s by-the-slice options. Behind him is a 12,000-pound, 7-foot-wide clay oven that reaches up to 900 degrees near the burner, about 700 in the middle and as low as 500 on the opposite end. This way, he told me, “The pizzaiolo has a range of areas to speed up or slow down the cooking process; this is helpful in many ways.”

A convection oven will soon bake Sicilian pies after Jett perfects his focaccia base. For now, try cubes toasted with olive oil and butter on the salati fresca with marinated onions, tomatoes and basil.

Behind Jett and his team of pizza makers, the vast open kitchen extends to the back third of the long, narrow restaurant. It’s almost too big, gobbling up what feels like 75 percent of the floor space, but I kept reminding myself that it’s also the bar, the prep area, the dish pit and the gelato station. It hums with the kind of energy that makes going out to eat exhilarating. You are witnessing the magic and the mess that is the restaurant.

The entryway is tight, with little room to wait. In January, after a few minutes hunkering over the menu in the aisle, we approached the counter to order. The young lady at the register asked if we had a table. We didn’t. Should we get one and then come back to order? She could place the order to-go, and if we had a table before it was ready, they would deliver it to us there.

But what if we didn’t find a table? We want to dine-in, I said.

As I attempted to understand this system, a couple got up and it was settled. We added a glass of the red blend on tap from Alexandria Nicole and a pint of Manny’s, paid, retrieved our beverages down the line and took a seat at Table 9, strangely situated with three chairs.

The furniture — all vintage oak, found and stored in Jett’s garage for a year as he toiled away on the buildout here — feels oversized for the dining room, but I admire the atmosphere it creates.

“I wanted it to feel rural,” said Jett, like you might if you stumbled into an 18th-century pizzeria in Campagna.

Our bresaola, the supple cured beef rolled over simply-dressed arugula, arrived on a paper plate. We served ourselves water and (real) silverware. Then came the pizzas, beautiful, unlike any in the region, and, after waiting patiently (to no avail) at the pay-as-you-go beverage counter, left APIZZA lamenting only that I had not ordered a half-liter of wine to savor alongside another slice.

APIZZA LITTLE ITALY

▪ 821 Pacific Ave., Tacoma, 253-367-4992, apizzalittleitaly.com

▪ Wednesday-Thursday 4-9 p.m., Friday 4-10 p.m., Saturday noon-10 p.m., Sunday noon-8 p.m.

▪ Details: Neapolitan-style pizza from clay oven, plus antipasti, salads and dessert; takeout, online ordering and DoorDash delivery available

▪ Recommended: bresaola ($17), focaccia ($9), salati fresca ($9 small feeds 2-3), pizza! ($14-$18 for 12-inch, $24-$34 for 16-inch)

▪ Atmosphere: family-friendly with Italian sodas ($4.50), gelato ($4.50-$7.50) and espresso; bar with draft beer ($7.50 pint-$21 pitcher), wine by the glass or carafe ($9-$46 for a liter), plus small selection of aperitivos/digestivos