Review: Olivia Trattoria - Oslo, Norway

On vacation in Norway, pizza wasn't at the top of our epicurean quests, even though Norwegians eat more pizza per person than residents of any other country. But late on a Monday night, all of the interesting restaurants in the Oslo harbor area (near the opera house and Munch Museum) were booked or closed. 

"The Margherita"

We were tired and hungry when we spotted Olivia Trattoria, only about 100 meters from our hotel. It was a lovely late July evening and we saw tables open in their large covered outdoor dining space (the interior is quite nice too). To our delight, we were able to be seated immediately when we had feared that dinner might be procured from the 7-11 (7-11 stores are all over Norway).

Outdoor dining at Olivia Trattoria

The Oslo Pizza Scene. Pizza options in Oslo have the reputation of being quietly excellent, and Olivia sits in an interesting niche. Standouts include:

• Lofthus Samvirkelag - The artisanal leader. More rustic, more Norwegian Italian fusion. Better ingredients, distinct character. 
• Gioia - This is a true Neapolitan with the puffy cornicione, leopard spotting, and soft center. 
• Via Napoli - Offers big, bold, Naples style pies. These are regarded as excellent, but paradoxically heavy. 
• Olivia - The chain that punches above its weight. If not the best pizza in Oslo, certainly the best surprise in Oslo. Pizza cognoscenti generally expect to be disappointed when wandering into an unscouted pizzeria. But here, we found ourselves staring at a pie so good it rewires expectations. Yes, it's a tourist-friendly chain. But it is also a largely authentic Italian experience in the middle of Oslo, executed with a precision that would work in any major metropolis.

  

  Interior at Olivia Trattoria

The Olivia Backstory.  Olivia was founded in 2006 and has grown into a polished, design forward chain with 20+ locations across Norway, plus outposts in Stockholm and Hamburg. Their concept is simple — Italian classics, made with respectable ingredients, served in warm, stylish rooms that feel more trattoria than franchise.

Reception in Norway is consistently strong: Olivia is well-reviewed online as a place that locals regard as a reliable “nice casual” option. Tourists stumble into it and wonder why their home cities can’t manage a chain this competent. (notable US exception: Anthony's Coal-Fired Pizza).

Beautiful thin crust

While we enjoyed the lovely evening dining outdoors overlooking the harbor, we saw that Olivia’s interiors are cozy with warm woods, soft lighting, and Italian inspired décor that avoids kitsch. The outdoor seating at many Oslo locations like ours (Aker Brygge, Tjuvholmen, Eger) adds to the charm. You feel like you are in Italy because Olivia wants you to feel that way, and they execute the illusion well. Bonus: I was able to enjoy a cold draft Ringnes beer with my pizza - the same beer my father drank in New Jersey in the 1970s because it was cheaper than domestic beer.

The Margherita That Dares to Be Roman. Our "Margherita" was a generous personal size suitable for two, and the crust was the star. It was super thin, crisp, ethereal — unmistakably Roman leaning. We loved the shattery crunch from its low hydration and a longer, lower bake. It sported a minimal rim without the signature puffy cornicione of a true Neapolitan. The crust reminded me of La Montecarlo in Rome.

The undercarriage at La Montecarlo in Rome

The pizza was expertly cooked, with micro blistering and a clean grain flavor. Riding on top was a bright red sauce, lively and tomato forward. The cheese was substantial - almost too much fior di latte - yet it was creamy, not soggy. Fresh basil was used sparingly but effectively.

The undercarriage at Olivia Trattoria

This clever hybrid is the style that Olivia has quietly perfected: not fully Roman (center still soft) and not fully Neapolitan (less hydration, less puff). Instead, it is a crisp leaning, feather light crust that feels almost weightless compared to American pizza, where “thin” often means “cracker” or “underbaked flatbread.” 

The pizza kitchen at Olivia

Beyond the pizza, we ordered a simple side salad, which was basic yet elevated in freshness and presentation. But rivalling the pizza was the Caprese salad, which was outrageously good. I've had Caprese made with Jersey tomatoes in summer, but nothing ever matched up to this one! This was the second grand surprise of the night.

The simple side salad

“Best caprese salad ever” isn’t hyperbole when the components are so dialed in. It featured brilliant cherry tomatoes, both fresh and marinated; mozzarella di bufala with that sweet, luscious creaminess only real bufala delivers; green olive/basil oil that pulled together the flavors and textures, and balsamico used as an accent, not a syrupy  drizzle. It came with a lovely bit of focaccia.

The brilliant Caprese salad

The final verdict is that Olivia is the rare chain that understands restraint. No overloaded toppings, no soggy centers, no Americanized sweetness. Just a crisp, ethereal crust, bright sauce, proper mozzarella, and a caprese that could embarrass restaurants charging twice the price. This serendipitous find when we had run out of options turned into an A+ “felt like Italy” moment — the exact kind of accidental triumph that keeps pizza obsessives wandering into new places with hope.

Review: OTTO Pizza - Copenhagen, Denmark

OTTO Pizza: a Neapolitan standout in a city of castles, kings, and surprisingly uneven pizza.

Pepperoni pizza

Copenhagen is a city with its rich history all around. You wander past Rosenborg Castle, where generations of Frederiks stockpiled crown jewels; you stroll along canals that remind you of Amsterdam; you pause at at open air beer garden for Tuborg on tap; you duck into Tivoli, the world's second oldest amusement park that has the look and feel of a fairy tale. It’s a place where old and new coexist effortlessly.

(Important side note: long ago, I drank Tuborg in college because I watched television ads for Tuborg Gold promising “the golden beer of Danish Kings." I thought it was a fancy import beer but priced in line with ordinary domestic stuff like Pabst and Miller -- although in fact it was brewed in the USA by Carling under a licensing agreement. Later it was sold to another US brewer and lost even more of its character. However, Tuborg in Denmark on tap is wonderful.)

"Proscuitto e funghi"

But let's get on to the Pizza! Copenhagen is still figuring that part out.

The city has world‑class restaurants and a design culture that obsesses over craft, but its pizza scene is uneven — a mix of decent Neapolitans, a few Roman experiments, and some Nordic‑chef reinterpretations that feel more like edible art projects than pizza. You can find good pies, but you have to know where to look. OTTO is one of the places worth looking.

It sits conveniently next to the CitizenM hotel (a Marriott property), which makes it almost too easy to wander in for lunch. And the lunch deal is borderline miraculous: a small pizza plus a drink for 70 kroner (about $11). In Copenhagen, that’s cheaper than a beer at Tivoli.

Modern but spartan interior

The pies show real skill. The crust is the star — great puffy Neapolitan, airy and buoyant, with a rim that rises proudly like it’s auditioning for a royal banquet. The sauce has a zippy brightness that many Copenhagen Neapolitans lack, and the mozzarella, though slightly undercooked, is fresh and mild with good flavor.

Toppings are handled with personality. We ordered two different pizzas. The pepperoni pie uses proper snappy, spicy cup‑and‑char pepperoni, a welcome surprise in a city where “pepperoni” often means thin salami slices that wish they had ambition. The prosciutto e funghi is mislabeled — it’s ham, not prosciutto, and the mushrooms are standard button mushrooms — but the pie still lands as balanced and genuinely tasty.

Proper char underneath

OTTO’s minor flaw is structural if actually more true to Neapolitan standards: they overload the center, and the middle collapses into a soggy zone. It’s a common Neapolitan issue, but more pronounced here than at American shops that understand that flop is not a desirable feature for any style of pie. Still, the crust and sauce are strong enough to keep the experience enjoyable, and the soggy aspect affected only the first bite of each slice.

Tivoli Gardens

In the grand Copenhagen context — a city of kings named Frederik, castles that look like movie sets, and a beer culture that keeps Tuborg flowing — OTTO stands out as one of the better Neapolitans in town. Not a pilgrimage spot, but absolutely a place worth eating, especially if you’re staying at CitizenM. Overall, this was a very welcome find - a lively, tasty Neapolitan with a damp center but a great attitude. 

Review: Di Fara Frozen Pepperoni Pizza

Di Fara is one of those names that carries the kind of weight that made pizza pilgrims stand in the Brooklyn heat for two hours while Dom DeMarco (R.I.P.) snipped basil over a pie that costs as much as a Broadway ticket. The original Pizza Quixote review from 2011 captured that magic: the cramped shop on Avenue J, the ritual, the inefficiency, the oil, the basil, the sense that you were witnessing something closer to performance art than lunch. That aura is difficult to freeze, box, and ship. But Di Fara has tried.

The frozen Di Fara pie is an 11‑inch round, modest in calories but not in sodium (more on that later). The crust is the first surprise, with a genuinely lovely crumb and texture, airy and well‑developed. Mine was a little dry, likely the result of too long a stay in the freezer, but the underlying dough quality still came through. It’s leagues better than the cardboard‑adjacent crusts that dominate the freezer aisle.

Out of the box, still frozen, before baking

The sauce is the star. Deep tomato flavor, concentrated and bright, reminiscent of the San Marzano–forward approach Dom's family uses in Midwood (and, presumably, other brick and mortar locations that have opened in recent years). It doesn’t quite hit the same fresh‑and‑canned hybrid complexity that Scott Wiener has described in his Di Fara tours, but it’s closer than you’d expect from something that spent months in cryogenic stasis.

Fresh out of my oven

Pepperoni lovers will appreciate the thick, cupped slices — hearty, meaty, and unapologetically salty. This is a high‑sodium pizza, no question, but the payoff is big flavor. The cheese blend (mozzarella plus Parmesan) brings a ton of umami in its savory punch. It’s a bold and satisfying frozen pizza.

But is it Di Fara? Not really. And that’s OK.

The in‑store pie was defined by Dom’s hands, the olive‑oil deluge, the fresh basil snipped with shears, the blistered crust that somehow stays soft in the center. Adam Kuban has written for years about how the Di Fara experience is inseparable from Dom himself — the slowness, the chaos, the sense that you’re eating something ephemeral and unrepeatable. The frozen version can’t replicate that any more than a postcard can replicate a vacation.

Compared to other “prestige frozen pizzas,” though, Di Fara holds its own. Roberta’s frozen pies — reviewed here in 2018 — set the modern standard: thin, crisp, flavorful, and surprisingly faithful to the Bushwick original. Roberta’s Baby Sinclair was described as “the best frozen pizza I’ve had,” with a crisp wafer‑thin crust and a cheese‑driven flavor profile. Di Fara’s frozen pie isn’t quite as cohesive or as texturally dialed‑in as Roberta’s, but it delivers a richer tomato presence and a more indulgent pepperoni experience.

Bottom line: This is a great frozen pizza but not automatically the best. And it’s not particularly reminiscent of the Midwood shop. What it does capture is the intensity of flavor that defines Di Fara: the deep tomato, the salty richness, the umami‑heavy cheese. It’s a worthy upgrade from the usual freezer fare and a fun way to bring a little Brooklyn legend into your kitchen, even if Dom’s family and those basil shears remain thousands of miles away.

Dom in 2009

If you go in expecting the Di Fara of Avenue J, you’ll be disappointed. If you go in expecting one of the best frozen pizzas on the market, you’ll be delighted. And maybe that’s the right way to honor a legend — not by trying to freeze perfection, but by giving us a taste of what makes it special.