In the interest of fairness, most critics prefer to order only plain margherita pies when evaluating a pizzeria. Sticking to the basic elements helps ensure a level playing field when judging the overall goodness of one pizza versus another. At least in most cases.

On a recent night at Ella’s Wood Fired Pizza in Penn Quarter, however, I can’t help but notice the glaring discrepancies between the pizza in front of me and the one at the next table. Both share the same traditional toppings. But, on appearances alone, the pies are strikingly dissimilar. My neighbor’s crust is lightly charred, with bready bubbles along the edges. You can hear a soft crackling when he bends it in half to take a bite. It has all the qualities diners have come to expect in a town saturated with wood-fired ovens.

Mine, on the other hand, is flat and flimsy, with an almost spongy texture. There are no bubbles to see, and no crunch to hear. You’d be forgiven for suspecting it was sourced from an entirely different eatery.

The real story is somewhat different. My neighbor’s pie is made with the traditional wheat-based dough. Mine, meanwhile, is built upon a wheatless, gluten-free crust.

Hawking a markedly inferior product might sound like a faux pas in the District’s enduring artisanal pizza world, where devotees preach about serving only top-notch ingredients and meeting stringent Italian authenticity standards.

But, for some people, this is progress.

I largely missed out on the early days of D.C.’s pizza renaissance, when Pizzeria Paradiso was beginning to expand its wood-burning reach. My go-to dining companion, the missus, is gluten intolerant. For those still unfamiliar with the term, gluten is a protein found in wheat and other grains that can cause rather unpleasant auto-immune reactions for certain people. Like most folks with gluten issues, my wife originally had no idea what was causing her such intense stomach cramps after meals. Doctors couldn’t pinpoint the problem. Through her own research, she stumbled on the gluten thing.

Cutting bread and other wheat products from her diet eliminated the pain. But easing her suffering severely limited our dining-out agenda. Pizza, for the most part, was a goner.

For a long time, we knew of only one pizzeria that catered to the wheatless, a tiny place called Risotteria that happened to be about 225 miles away in New York’s Greenwich Village. We made regular pilgrimages and substantially narrowed the distance between home and our regular pizza fix by relocating there in 2006.

When I returned to D.C. last year, I found a food scene that had undergone some significant changes—including in the wheat-avoidance department. And it’s not just specialty dietetic joints, either: At least half a dozen mainstream, up-market D.C. pizzerias currently carry gluten-free crusts. It’s become a big selling point for some places, which might otherwise miss an entire demographic of new customers, the gluten-adverse as well as those who dine with them. Some operators, including the Homemade Pizza Co., make the gluten-free component a prominent feature in storefront advertisements like the ones at its 14th Street NW store.

From a critic’s standpoint, none of these pies will ever earn official Denominazione di Origine Controllata recognition—even at places like Pete’s New Haven Style Apizza, one of the local temples of highbrow pies, or District of Pi, a new arrival from St. Louis with similarly highfalutin’ pizza ambitions.

“It’s different than a real pizza, but it’s not a negative experience,” says Jeffrey Silverman, vice president of Still Riding Pizza, a Bridgeport, Conn. company that supplies gluten-free crusts to a number of District eateries, including Ella’s, Comet Ping Pong, and Open City. Each eatery sells the crusts at an extra charge, ranging from $2 at Ella’s to $5 at Comet, above the price of a regular pizza.

Silverman’s wife, Liz, developed the recipe—a blend of bean, rice, and tapioca flours, mixed with xantham gum, egg, sugar, and cider vinegar, among other things—after she and their children were diagnosed with celiac disease. The family business now sells wheatless crusts to more than 800 restaurants nationwide. “It’s a good business,” he says.

But Silverman’s dough takes on startlingly different forms after passing through the various D.C. ovens operated by his customers. At Ella’s, it’s soggy and depressing. At Open City, though, it’s almost as crisp as the wheat-lovers’ pizza, albeit a frozen variety thereof. For best results, Silverman recommends that patrons request pies well-done; he advises restaurants to cook the crusts with sauce for a few minutes before adding cheese.

Nonetheless, in a city overrun with pie-slingers, the gluten-free niche offers a competitive advantage.

“It helps our bottom line,” says Zach Current, a partner at D.C.’s newly opened Fuel Pizza, a North Carolina-based chain that began offering gluten-free crusts two years ago. “We went from selling 50 [gluten-free pies] a week at eight cafes to selling 300 a week,” Current says.

Fuel’s gluten-free offering, made with tapioca, sorghum, amaranth, and teff, takes on a doughy, almost crepe-like texture.

Current was initially skeptical when suppliers began hawking wheatless crusts at industry trade shows. But, he says, as customers began requesting the stuff and friends began eschewing pizza altogether because of their own dietary conditions, it simply made sense. “Obviously, if it’s going to affect our business, you’re going to get a little more dialed in,” he says.

In the beginning, quality control was a big concern. Regular pizzas are made from scratch at the company’s various locations. The gluten-free crusts, however, come pre-made. “I probably tried 30 different products from around the country before finding the right one,” Current says. He won’t name his supplier for competitive reasons.

Fuel claims to go to great lengths to avoid cross-contamination with its wheat dough. Gluten-free crusts are made in a separate area; the pies are placed in the oven atop parchment paper to prevent contact with regular flour. But even those steps don’t completely eliminate risk: “If you are super-sensitive, we can’t recommend that you even come in our restaurant because there’s two pounds of flour probably just floating around,” he says.

Still, the wheat-averse have plenty of options. Even Pizzeria Paradiso, which first foisted the Neapolitan pizza fetish on Washington, is developing its own wheatless dough. “When we started out 20 years ago, we had white crust and milk cheese,” chef-owner Ruth Gresser says. “We have changed based on customer interest over the years. We now have a vegan cheese. We now have a whole wheat crust. We’ve always been a place where people could create their own meal based on their dietary restrictions. In my mind, [the gluten-free option] sort of fits with the create-your-own mentality.”

The chain recently hosted a taste-test, but hasn’t rolled out its product quite yet. “We decided that we still had a little work to do,” says Gresser, whose own recipe features a blend of brown rice, sorghum, and buckwheat flours. “For me, the buckwheat gives it a hearty, rustic, more like a whole-wheat, whole-grain flavor,” she says. Gresser hopes to launch the gluten-free option at Paradiso’s Alexandria location around mid-February.

“I feel like when my staff tastes it and says, ‘Oh, I would eat that,’ instead of ‘Yeah, it’s OK,’ that’s a good sign,” she says. “I mean, will people choose to have this crust over our regular crust? I don’t know that the non-gluten-free will do that. But I think it makes a nice pizza.” CP

Photos by Darrow Montgomery

Comet Ping Pong, 5037 Connecticut Ave. NW, (202) 364-0404

District of Pi, 910 F St. NW, (202) 393-5484

Ella’s Wood Fired Pizza, 901 F St. NW, (202) 638-3434

Fuel Pizza, 1606 K St. NW, (202) 659-3835

Open City, 2331 Calvert St. NW, (202) 332-2331

Pete’s Apizza, 1400 Irving St. NW, (202) 332-7383, and 4940 Wisconsin Ave. NW, (202) 237-7383

Pizzeria Paradiso, 3282 M St. NW, (202) 337-1245, 2003 P St. NW, (202) 223-1245, and 124 King St., Alexandria, (703) 837-1245

Eatery tips? Food pursuits? Send suggestions to hungry@washingtoncitypaper.com.

Then I got distracted by a more burning question (literally): just how "#!^%@< Hot!" are Fuel's advertised "#!^%@< Hot!" chicken wings? The spicy poultry parts, teased in a recent Washingtonian preview as "a habanero-spiced hot wing that’ll scorch your taste buds," are a new menu item for Fuel that's exclusive to the District.

Admittedly, I was a little confused about how to actually order the things. When I made my first visit to the downtown eatery one recent evening, I think I said something like, "I want the wings with the hot sauce spelled indecipherably." The cashier then yells to the back, "One single order of crazy hot wings!"

Is that what you call 'em?

"During the daytime," she replies.

How 'bout at night?

"Fucking hot," she says.

Initial impressions: The gal behind the counter isn't kidding. The single order contains a total of nine wings. I can manage to eat only two—coughing upon the very first bite and thankfully having a whole slice of pizza and large fountain drink on hand to douse my blazing tongue in between each one. I have no idea what these wings might register on the Scoville scale, but I can tell you this: the lingering capsaicin sting lasted about an hour.

"You tried that?" replies Zach Current, one of the partners in the new restaurant, when I call later to find out more about the fiery recipe. "That's hardcore, dude."

It seems even the co-owner of the place is a little intimidated by the things. "My partners and I love the inferno sauce," he says, referring to the style of hot sauce located one level of heat below the indecipherably titled version. "We eat it all the time. It's really hot but you can eat all your wings."

For the new D.C. location, Current says the proprietors wanted to kick things up a notch. "With some people, it's like Man v. Food, you know, you want to see how far you can push yourself," he says.

Current declines to divulge the specific recipe for the molten hot sauce. "I will tell you that we wanted to make it as hot as we could without hurting anybody," he says.

Has anyone actually been hurt by the things?

"Nah," he replies. "There's been a few people, like you, who are like, 'I can do it,' and they finish two."

Is there a record for most #!^%@< Hot! wings consumed in a single seating?

None yet, Current says. However, the restaurant is planning to hold a contest on Super Bowl Sunday to see who, if anyone, can manage to munch the most #!^%@< Hot! wings in 10 minutes.

The contest costs $10 to enter. Current doesn't say what prize the winning wing-eater might receive. Living to tell the tale is its own reward, I guess.

Photos by Chris Shott

The pizza joint's pricing policy treats fancy parm like regular pizza toppings, such as olives or caramelized onions, instead of the usual complimentary sprinkles, such as red pepper flakes or oregano.

Chef-owner Todd Wiss says he simply can't afford to grate the good stuff for free, anymore. "We were blowing through a 20-pound wheel every week, or week and a half," he says.

For the first year he owned Radius, the place didn't charge for the pricey parm. But, because Radius uses freshly grated, quality cheese—not "Kraft shaker cheese," Wiss explains—the policy has been revised to reflect current economics. "If you think about it," he says, "nowadays, no one can absorb the cost, anymore, unfortunately."

The 50-cent fee has not slowed demand of the standard two-ounce serving, Wiss reports. A year and a half since the new policy went into effect, patrons are still asking for it.

Wiss wasn't immediately aware of other area pizzerias that might assess the same cheesy surcharge. "Honestly," he says. "I don't go out and eat pizza on my days off."

Photo by Stefanie Gans

Sorriso is located at 3518 Connecticut Ave NW.

The family behind Cleveland Park's homey Italian eatery Sorriso is expanding its tasty offerings to nearby Woodley Park with a new project: Cafe Sorriso on Calvert Street NW.

Isabella Polles, daughter of Sorriso patriarch Pietro Polles, will manage the new restaurant alongside her brother, Stefano Polles.

After years of taking their cues from Papa Polles—occasional family spats only added to the authentic Italian charm of the place—the siblings say they are fulfilling a long-time dream to open their own place.

Cafe Sorriso will differ from its predecessor by offering smaller plates, sandwiches, and organic options. Of course, there will also be pizza—albeit the square kind, which is apparently all the rage with Italian youths these days, according to the sibs. (Stefano Polles studied both proper pie- and gelato-making in Italy.)

The brother-sister team have also hired former Italian embassy chef Roberto Grazioli, who specializes in pastries, for their new cafe.

Isabella Polles tells Y&H the cafe will cater to those who aren't looking for a full-course sit down dinner and just want something they can take-out. "It will be a smaller menu, but there will be something for everyone," she says.

Cafe Sorriso is planning on opening its doors "sometime in the new year," she says. The siblings plan to be open seven days a week for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Hungry for something to eat and to wear? Well, you may have come to the right place. On the second floor of the same building, Isabella Polles will also manage her own consignment and vintage clothing store.

Fuel Pizza

I wrote about Fuel when they first opened in November 1998 (yep – been here that long). They have eight stores now. When they first opened what I liked about them was their location – they reused an old filling station in an area of town that was anti-developer and the original store had pizzas from upper state New York so these were the thin pliable crust variety. At that location they had a malfunctioning oven that gave the crust a smoky charcoal taste. I love the charcoal oven pizza joints in Manhattan. Fuel also serves Buffalo (as in the real Anchor Bar-style kind) wings. These folks are not from Buffalo – I think Utica – can’t remember.

Fuel opened before the onslaught of pizza joints in the early aughts and they have enjoyed great success here especially the pizza by the (large) slice. But Charlotte did not have an Italian immigrant base and thus lacked a history of those small mom and pop pizza shops that are all over the Northeast. I haven't had a slice of Fuel in a while but I also teach at Johnson & Wales University and the students LOVE Fuel. Interesting they are opening in Washington.

Top photo courtesy of Fuel Pizza, bottom photo by Chris Shott

Presumably, another restaurateur (preferably, one with a better track record with the liquor agency) could come in, take over the lease and apply for his or her own license. Y&H knows of at least one experienced manager who is looking for space in that very vicinity.

That's assuming Fathi would be willing to part with his attractive perch there at the corner of Florida Avenue and 5th Street NW.

Otherwise, the current operator, deemed "unfit for licensure" on account of various regulatory violations, would need to come up with a whole new business plan—one that doesn't involve booze. One idea already being floated: a coffee shop.

Another possibility: the existing location already boasts a fancy-schmancy pizza oven, so maybe an artisanal pie place could work in that space. Then again, that concept is quite played-out already. And the place would have to compete with nearby Rustik, which, of course, has a distinctive upper-hand. Beer and wine flow freely at that location.

What do you think should become of the District's most drama-plagued location of the year?

Photo by Chris Shott

I took their advice. This particular pie is described on the menu as such: "Olive oil and garlic base pizza loaded with red potato, Applewood smoked bacon, caramelized onions, cheddar and mozzarella cheeses, sprinkled with chives & drizzled with sour cream & spicy ranch dressing."

If that sounds like a pizza with a big stuffed potato plopped on top, well, that's pretty much the experience in a nutshell—er, pizza box, as the case would be. Colleagues who tried a slice also compared it to a breakfast pizza, what with the bacon standing out most prominently, and an open-faced farmer's omelet, sans the egg.

Photo by Chris Shott