Like a secret destination deep in the forest of Narnia, the gold-tiled oven glows behind a low wall at the end of the room. Emblazoned across its convex surface is "DONATELLA." Magical unicorn? Queen of the Underworld? No, just the restaurateur Donatella Arpaia, whose relentless publicity machine has kept her in the public eye ever since she opened her first place, Bellini, in 1998. But when she slinks past her new oven in person, she looks haggard and a bit frumpy, nothing like her publicity stills.
Which is OK, because the pizzas that fly from that gilt dome at her new self-named Chelsea pizzeria are fantastic. Of all the places in town making the laughable assertion that they're re-creating "the true pie of Naples" (some even have a certificate from Verace Pizza Napoletana to prove it!), Donatella's comes closest. The crust is pillowy, charred here and there, but not enough to make it bitter. The ingredients are pure and simple, like innocent fawns in the forest, and the tomato sauce remains spare and uncontaminated by strong flavors. Thankfully, the one-person pies come cut in quarters, which isn't done in Naples. The interior is soggy, but not too soggy, and when finishing a slice most diners can't resist the "bone," or circumferential arc of the crust. The dough is that good.
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