Restaurant review: Creative pies out of the Pizza Box

Every year for CL’s Intern Issue, I get a chance to host a tasting with the future — the young writers who will eventually take over the world from the boomers. Without fail, I’m impressed by the energy, intelligence and insight they possess. This time, we went out for pizza.

The world, it seems, has an insatiable appetite for pizza’s unlimited variations. And ambitious restaurateurs are crazy enough to open competing parlors within yards of each other.

St. Petersburg newcomer Pizza Box is a small, hip narrow room on Central Avenue with Kelley Duff and chefs Adam and Andrew Duff’s whole operation on display. Intern Carlynn Crosby is “a huge fan of the aesthetic Pizza Box is invoking. Small, dim string lights, hand-charred wood elements, craft beer, original St. Pete hexagon tile flooring. I think it fits right in with where the EDGE District is trying to go.”

She also notes — and we all agree — that the “open pizza oven (which was built by the owners) and kitchen [make] the place seem friendly and welcoming.” It is, however, as Anthony Bourdain proclaims: no reservations. Don’t worry, though. It’s worth the wait.

We start with The G.O.A.T (goat cheese, onions, array of herbs, tomatoes) appetizer. Carlynn (whose mother is convinced she’s “having a love affair with goat cheese”) admits it’s “hard for her to remain impartial.” While she’s expecting “something similar to a bruschetta,” we get a basket of small, crisp crostini to spread as we see fit. Carlynn likes “this nicely portioned starter mainly because of the threads of basil you [get] in each bite. The hint of sweetness [is] really refreshing.” Intern Savannah Pearson is also a fan.

The 100-percent beef meatballs with onion and garlic have just enough herbed bread crumbs to lighten their texture, and the acidity of the San Marzano tomato sauce balances the fat from fresh ricotta. It’s a textbook meatball with great flavor and a nice way to start.

As we chow down on the sides and starters, I brief the table on my Pizza Marathon from last year and the high standards of the top pies. It’s time to see if Pizza Box can deliver.

Savannah, our resident vegan, orders Debbie’s Veggies, complete with in-season vegetables, caramelized onions, balsamic glaze and vegan cheese. While the toppings seem sparse, she’s “happy with the seared, flavored dough” with its “nice density — not too thick, not too thin.” She finds the 10-inch personal pizzas to be “the ideal size, and the option of vegan cheese is a huge draw.” Veg-heads, take note.

Our lone male intern taster, Brian Roesler, focuses on the “night’s special — The Lover Boy, spelled in a darling manner with an actual heart with the word “love” squared in its center.” Brian notes that the “delicate interplay between textures of ricotta, which [is] notably soft against the delectable grit” of the crust’s leopard spot char is a huge asset. This creates “deep pockets of flavor when combined with the ripe cherry tomatoes” that is “compounded by the savory goodness of the fresh mozzarella.” This pie also features “meatballs and caramelized onions as an additional topping, with careful attention to portion and size.” The meatballs aren’t “so large that they [will] roll off the pizza, or make it far too difficult to pick up and eat.” With wry humor that belies his age, Brian reminds us that a “certain sense of utility is a part of pizza’s charm, like it or not.”

Carlynn (and our whole table) is surprised to see a pie called Karlyn’s Beer Garden, with a house-made beer cheese base, thinly sliced fingerling potatoes, Boar’s Head bacon, herb whipped ricotta and chives. Despite the spelling variation, Ms. Crosby is glowing because “those who have an uncommon name [know] that thrill of kinship you feel with anything, pizza or otherwise, that has the name too.” This pizza did her name proud, but the beer cheese won her heart. “I’d buy it by the tubful (and I do mean bathtub), if I could.” It’s seductive because it’s “creamy and just the slightest bit tangy, not overbearing or too potent, and it [leaves] just the right aftertaste… to balance the salt of the bacon and the bland crunch of the fingerling potatoes.”

Interns are a tough crowd. She notes that the “only real pitfall, if you could even call it that, [is] the herb ricotta. Ricotta has a tendency to take over your mouth if you get too much of it in one bite, and as the ricotta on this pizza was clumped together in little balls, some bites were a nice balance of beer cheese and bacon and potato, and some were just bites of dough and ricotta. If it were thinly spread out, or turned into a drizzle somehow, I think that element would [fare] better.” Her pie also has some inconsistent char, which is the crust’s main appeal, so on those slices “another dimension” is missing.

We also try the loaded Saint Michael’s Supreme and the margherita, as I did on the marathon because there’s no place to hide. Pizza Box is Top 10 worthy.

The surprise of the evening, though, is the one dessert pizza with honey whipped mascarpone, fresh peaches and a caramel drizzle. It’s like Crêpe Suzette with char. Certainly, the consensus of the table is best summed up by Savannah’s confession: “I don’t think I can survive without that dessert pizza in my life.”

Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system.

This article appears in Aug 4-11, 2016.