Forget pineapple: a’Mare’s new pizzeria is pushing delicious into unorthodox territory

It’s high time to put an end to the old “do you put pineapple on your pizza?” conversation. There are way more unorthodox things happening to dough in Sydney right now than fruit.

Exhibit A: the wagyu carpaccio, buffalo mozzarella and truffled pecorino-topped number for $52 (or $87 if you also choose the caviar supplement) at chef and restaurateur Alessandro Pavoni’s new Crown pizzeria.

Hey, we’d never have hip hop if jazz hadn’t gone there first. At least, that’s what I tell myself when I order Exhibit B: the “acciughe e macadamia”. That’s a blonde pizza base – the dough, charred, puffy and yielding – topped with large creamy, salty Cantabrian anchovies, artful blobs of macadamia cream and the sweet citrusy bite of Amalfi lemon. It’s a dish that commands an amount of trust from the diner. And actually, it works.

This is the newest feather in Pavoni and Maestro Hospitality group’s cap, perched above their two-hatted Italian restaurant, a’Mare. Led day-to-day by chef Giuseppe Fuzio and pizzaiolo Paolo Lacarpia, it’s a menu, on the whole, of safe deliciousness with a few risque manoeuvres for adventurous diners.

The dining room looks over the Barangaroo neck of the harbour. During the day, that means a light-flooded space and water views. At night, it’s festooned boats and twinkling city lights. The idea that great design is invisible design definitely works here – interiors are minimal but comfortable – the main focus is on the food and the view.

When Pizza’Mare opened, the team wanted affordability and approachability to be the focus. I guess you could argue that it’s affordable in that the average cost of pizza is between $26 and $36. Keep in mind that once you take a few laps of the drinks list, add a few snacks, sides and dessert, the bill might look a little less than friendly.

Still, you could order a couple of Italian craft beers like the fruity, wheaty Baladin Nazionale, share some crisp calamari fritti with lemon-scented mayonnaise and a diavola (spicy batons of salami melted into orbs of melted mozzarella, arrabbiata sauce and a rubble of 𝄒nduja) and leave for less than $100.

The cocktails in general here are a cut above. Colour me excited for early July, when Vista’Mare Bar swings open on Crown’s old Icebergs site. Meanwhile, open up the engine here with something from the negroni menu. There are six variations on the traditional mix of Campari, gin and sweet vermouth, including the bitter, savoury $28 Negroni Trestevere, which subs in Cynar, white vermouth and tequila, garnished with a fresh bay leaf – savoured with a serve of whipped salt cod served with a little pool of grassy olive oil, salt and pepper and a stack of toasted crispbread.

The margherita is a lesson in simplicity: charred dough covered in light San Marzano tomato sugo, fior di latte and a scattering of basil leaves no larger than my thumbnail. The culaccia prosciutto, too, is a beautiful example of something a little more classic – a white base covered with blistered cherry tomatoes, velvety, lean and flavourful prosciutto, fior di latte and buffalo ricotta, and finished with peppery rocket leaves.

Word to the wise, don’t order more than a pizza per person if you intend to order other dishes. On one visit, we ordered three and I nearly died of (over)consumption. I blame the mid-course cacio e pepe – hot, raw, intensely cheesy – paired with something a little bold and rough around the edges like a glass of Castello di Neive barbera.

Dessert? Look, they’re very good, but they are intense. The pizza’misu (Nutella, piped sweetened mascarpone with hazelnut and coffee crumble served on a puffy rectangle of hot pizza dough) is best eaten as soon as it lands on the table. Or try the extremely pretty, deeply creamy and vanilla bean-y panna cotta topped with fine shavings of caramel granita.

One of the superpowers of this restaurant group is that, whether they’re serving you cheesy dough or a multi-course tasting menu at Ormeggio at The Spit, the service remains elevated, personable, exacting and uncynical. And you can definitely eat here without breaking the bank. The drinks are where you’ll get stung. The problem is, the longer you’re in the chair, the more you’ll happily allow them to keep stinging you.

It’s just that nice to be there.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.