I don’t remember the first time I went to Etto, but I’ve been going back almost every month for the past two years.

I always come to the restaurant alone, and I always take a seat at the bar. You can watch the cooks wood firing the pizzas in the oven and prepping orders. Even though they’re usually busy and the kitchen area is small, no one ever looks stressed.

Even though I’ve tried to branch out, I always end up ordering the Margherita di Bufala pizza. The crust is thin but chewy and the sauce is slightly sweet. I love the thick slices of buffalo mozzarella and basil on top and the charred edges. The waitress always gives me a fork and knife, but I end up eating slices with my hands.

So much has changed in the past two years since I moved to D.C., but Etto has been one of my constants. I’ve showed up there covered in snow, tired from work, jubilant, heartbroken, with dyed red hair and in other states/moods. But no matter what, I know that I’ll get a good pizza and that I’ll enjoy it. It’s nice to know that despite the changes, some things stay the same.

In semi-unrelated news, I’m really digging soul music lately. Here’s a good song from one of the masters.

PS: I forgot to mention the dessert at Etto. It’s always delicious, without fail. Last night I got the grapefruit panna cotta after the man sitting next to me told the bartender that it was the best he’d ever had. I don’t know if I’d go that far, but it was definitely high up there. And the pistachio brittle was out of this world. I might try to make some at home soon.