Ever since I moved back to St. Louis, I’ve been hearing about Pizzeoli. A local food publication ran an article about them semi-recently saying that the owner takes Neapolitan pizza pie-making very seriously. I like people who are dedicated to a craft, and I really like delicious food. So I decided to check out the restaurant this past Friday after work.
I was expecting Pizzeoli to be small, and it is: There’s a small bar out in front, a few tables, and a room in the back to accommodate larger parties. But there’s a warmth that radiates the shop that makes it feel inviting instead of claustrophobic. Maybe it’s the giant, wood fired oven in the back, but I think it’s more than that. Other people must feel the same way, because when I walked in there was a couple on a date nestled into a corner and a family with two young children at a table in the back. There’s a vibe that everyone, as long as they appreciate good pizza, is welcome at Pizzeoli.
I sat down at the bar and ordered a beer, and when I looked over I saw a bald man sitting a few chairs down. He looked familiar and I realized from pictures I’d seen that he was the owner. I pretended not to realize this though because I wanted to find out more about the restaurant. I also didn’t want to fan girl out too hard.
We exchanged a few pleasantries but I was too excited to talk. I ordered the Margherita pizza with fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil. I watched as the guy in back assembled the pie and packed it into the wood fired oven. A few minutes later, he took it out and put it down. The waitress sliced it expertly and brought it over to the bar. It looked legit, I thought, but would it taste legit?
It did. It was not only the best Neapolitan pizza that I’ve tasted in St. Louis, but maybe the best Neapolitan pizza I’ve ever had. Surely, it was the best Neapolitan pizza I’ve tried west of the Mississippi River.
The crust was chewy and thick and the sauce to cheese and basil ratio was perfect. Sometimes, Neapolitan pizza slices are too thin and the toppings slide off the pizza and everything falls apart. The slices at Pizzeoli were substantial enough to hold toppings but light enough to fold.
“How is it?” the owner asked me. “This is some of the best Neapolitan pizza I’ve ever had,” I said. He looked pleased but embarrassed. He could probably see the tears in my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I tend to gush about things when they’re really good.”
“No,” he said. “It’s nice to see people who appreciate good food.”
Pizzeoli was more than good, though. It was excellent. The pizza was a reminder that a dedication to craft and a passion for fresh ingredients can elevate food to art. I could tell that everyone who worked at Pizzeoli, including the owner, is passionate about this concept.
When you enjoy a meal at Pizzeoli, you’re not only getting a Friday night pizza dinner. You’re becoming part of the tableaux of exceptional dining. I feel lucky that a place like this exists in the city I grew up in.
Taum Sauk Mountain is not an easy hike, even for someone like me who considers herself in decent shape. The path is rocky and uneven, and if it rains that week (which, during spring in Missouri, it probably will), there are flooded patches where you have to pick your way over moss-covered stones.
To the side of the abbey is an old school ice cream parlor. When you walk inside it feels a little like stepping back in time. There are antiques plastered against the walls and the most modern appliance is gleaming frozen custard machine, which churns out about a dozen flavors daily.
ANYWAY. I guess there are a couple morals to this story. One is to always keep going, even when you hike in circles, temporarily black out, and almost fall down a waterfall chute. Another is to always keep your eyes open and don’t be afraid to take the detour. I’m glad that I saw the sign for the abbey and that I decided to stop for lunch there. It was an experience I wouldn’t have anywhere else.
I looked forward to ordering dessert the entire meal. At the beginning of dinner, the waiter told me about one of their signature desserts, “Anne’s Garden.” It’s a lemon verbena panna cotta with flowers from an urban farm near the restaurant. It sounded unlike anything I’d ever tried before. I didn’t think twice before ordering one.
I almost cried at the end of the meal. I felt like I was on a high, kind of like after running a race but without doing any work. It was a mix of exhilaration, pleasure, and nostalgia. I didn’t want the experience to be over. I know I’ll be back soon, though. When you discover a place like Vicia, you can’t stay away for long.
I made this matcha green smoothie bowl a couple weeks ago but I forgot to tell you about it. It deserves some air time.
I like to spend at least one day hiking every weekend. I find that this does two things: It keeps me in shape, and it keeps me sane. No matter what kind of day I’m having, if I spend a couple hours hiking through the woods, I feel better. Being in nature puts everything in perspective.
After Hawn, I was starving so I decided to make a detour to Ste. Geneviève. It’s about 30 minutes east of Hawn next to the Mississippi River. I wasn’t sure how much would be open because it was Sunday, but I decided to risk it.
I asked one shop owner for a lunch recommendation and she told me to go to Stella and Me Café on Main Street. The café is in an old shack, so when you walk in you feel a little like you’re in someone’s dining room.
After lunch, I walked around downtown. I went into an old fashioned ice cream parlor called 
Right before I left to drive back to St. Louis, I stopped by the Mississippi River. Usually there’s a ferry that takes you across the river to Illinois, but it wasn’t running. “Be careful,” the woman at the tourism office told me. “It’s high tide.”
So anyway. I guess there are a couple morals to this story: One, never turn down an unmarked gravel road against your own instincts. Two, always take detours. I’m so glad that I decided to spend the afternoon in Ste. Geneviève. It was peaceful and quaint and reminded me that it’s important to slow down.
Here’s 
allezlefood.com 