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Under the Toque: Bianco searches for truth in the perfectly imperfect pizza

In 14 years as co-owner of Pizzeria Bianco, Chris Bianco has become a pizza-making legend in the minds of many, but not his own. While working the wood-fired hearth at the 42-seat Phoenix restaurant, Bianco garnered a 2003 James Beard Award as Best Chef in the Southwest, achieved rock-star status among his pizzaiolo peers and has drawn the praise of authors and critics.

The wait to get inside Pizzeria Bianco routinely is one to two hours—even when the desert sun sends temps into the low hundreds. He’s flattered that customers risk sunstroke to taste one of his razor-thin, feather-light pies, but such devotion isn’t all that drives him: Most of all, he loves the rhythmic repetition of making hundreds of pizzas nightly.

“No, it’s never boring to me,” he tells people when they ask if the work ever gets old. “I’ve never made the perfect pizza, so that’s always out there. There’s always that challenge.”

His self-description as “the most scattered lunatic you’ll ever see” isn’t totally unfair. At one moment Bianco broods about the shallowness of human materialism and quotes philosophers, the next, he’s a comedian joking in terms too salty for print. Life is best “when it’s simple and true,” Bianco says, “and that’s what I’m working toward: truth in what I do.”

You love what you do, but you don’t always like the accompanying fame. Why not?

You don’t want nobody to write about you, but you have to be careful what you wish for, too. Sometimes it’s over the top. There are times when I wish I could walk into the abyss and never be heard from again, but in reality, I’m very blessed. And when it comes to my 15 minutes of fame, I’ve been on overtime for a long time.

You make thousands of pizzas a week. How do you keep it fresh and fun?

BIOGRAPHY

Title: chef-owner, Pizzeria Bianco, PhoenixBirth date: May 11, 1962Hometown: Bronx, N.Y.Career highlights: “I’m looking for them right now. So stay tuned, they’re yet to be determined. I’ve got to be careful because today’s highlights can become tomorrow’s nightmare.”

It’s like breathing to me. Isn’t that pretty fresh? For me, the enjoyment is always about repetition and practice; that’s the secret.

You find perfection in imperfection. Is that evident in your imperfectly shaped pizzas with what some might call burned edges?

I would say that’s charred to a unique perfection rather than burnt. We might see something from two different perspectives, which proves how hard it is to say what’s truly good. The Japanese talk about the concept of wabi-sabi [the art of finding beauty in imperfection and profundity in nature]. You might see a brown, dead leaf, and I may see it as beautiful at the end of its life. The problem is this: We spend so much time telling everyone what’s supposed to be good that we don’t know what’s really good anymore. Just give me something that’s true.

You talk about living in the moment, while business leaders advise we focus on the future. Where’s the disconnect between you and them?

I’ve always felt that planning your future was incredibly presumptuous. When I leave that pizzeria every night, I look at it like it’s the last time I’m going to see it because one night that’ll be true. If I don’t look at it that way, then I risk taking things for granted. I want to respect life by taking care of this moment.

Alot of chefs work hard to source food locally. How important is that to you?

I think everything you can get that’s closer to the source probably is a better product. But when it gets right down to it, I buy things I’m proud to eat myself. Parmigiano-Reggiano ain’t local, but I use it because I love it. Is the prosciutto I get from Norwalk, Iowa, local? No, but it allows me to meet a grower, to see the animals and how they’re cured. Obviously you want to support your neighbors, and I do as much of that as I can. The olive oil I use is pressed 25 minutes from me, but I buy it because I like the flavor.

With the proliferation of pizza competitions these days, why haven’t you entered?

CHEF’S TIPS

Learn to cook instinctually first, then read the recipe. You’ll know much more about how to fix and correct the dish if you work your way through it initially.

Trust that you know more than you think you know about food. Don’t always depend on thermometers and timers. Watch how things cook, how things react, such as how excess flour smokes when you put pizza in the oven. I think people know a thousand times more than they think they do.

Man, I think those contests are the devil. If you want to have a couple of yahoos tell you that your pizza is better than his, that’s the devil. Who cares if you won some contest? Without my staff and my space, doing something outside those conditions is not true. So what if customers like your pizza more because you won a competition? The fact is they should like it for what you do inside the restaurant.

But the pizza makers who win say the publicity is very good for business.

That’s just an ego booster. Why isn’t what you do every day inside your shop good enough? You should be working in your restaurant. Focusing in that moment is the true contest of your life.

Who are some peers whose work you admire, and why?

Alice Waters has been a huge inspiration and friend. She’s someone who taught me from afar the importance of regional food and food with integrity.… Wylie Dufresne at WD-50 [in New York City]…he couldn’t do food more different than what I do, but it’s food that’s sincere, something he truly believes in. If I tried to do it, it would be contrived.… Jean-Louis Paladin…when he was alive I got to meet him. I was just sitting in his garden talking about mortadella of all things.… Mario Batali…that sucker can cook. He’s a great guy and has been very kind to me.… Anthony Mangieri at Una Pizza Napolitana in New York City…he’s a great example of someone doing something truly important.

You spend nothing on marketing. Why not?

That’s the biggest waste of money I can think of. If I’ve got to tell you it’s good, then I’ve got a problem.

With such regular requests to franchise Pizzeria Bianco, why do you always decline?

Building a big business is not what I do. I can’t do that. I know my own limits. I don’t want this to sound egotistical, but without me, it’s no longer Pizzeria Bianco, it’s somebody else’s pizzeria.

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