Fair warning: if you were considering stopping by Bar del Corso for one of Jerry Corso's wood-fired pies, you may want to wait a few days. Because today's dual rave-y reviews from Hanna Raskin and one BJC ensure the already-packed Beacon Hill pizza destination may achieve near Walrus-ian crowds.
Hanna Raskin argues the importance of a good pizza crust, saying that "a deservedly popular pizza salon can invigorate and sustain a zip code." And that's what appears to be happening in Beacon Hill, where neighbors routinely thank Corso for bringing in his custom pizza oven that delivers pies with charred underbellies like cheetah hides:
The linen-thin crust on Bar del Corso's pizzas has the sweet, lively flavor of fermentation, and a fabulously clear minerality usually associated with sauvignon blancs and mountain springs that reputedly cure everything from diabetes to dyspepsia. The edges—grandly referred to as the cornicione by serious pizza junkies—are puffed high above the central crust, forming an imposing bread bulwark capable of containing pools of cheese and the oils sweated from discs of salami.
Raskin's chief complaint: too much salt. Meanwhile, BJC encounters a douchey-sounding New York diner ("the word 'foodie' is deployed") who says his pie "needs more salt in the crust; same with the octopus, that needed a little more salt, too." In the spirit of being polite, BJC holds her tongue, even though she finds her pizza nicely salted:
I don't say that the saltiness had an unusual complexity, with notes of spice and fat and acid and roastiness all hitting your tongue, and I don't say that I thought the crust was as close to perfect as you can get on this planet.
While "not quite as exquisite" as Delancey, "this pizza is, I think, tied for second-best in the city with the Independent Pizzeria."