BJ Pizza Wars IV: Tavola v Pizza by LMPlus

I never ask an Italian where to go for pizza in Beijing: in my experience, nine times out of ten, he will wax nostalgic about his nonna, or that cafe three streets away from his Milanese apartment. All very nice, but highly unhelpful. This is where we come in: today, we take you to some of the eateries that get it a little bit righter – a bit more Italiano, si, signor. To give the contenders a smidge more freedom, we've chosen the simplest salami pizza they serve.

On the freestanding high-end heavyweight end of the scale, we present Tavola and Pizza by LMPlus. One distinguished dining editor once called the latter's pizza "near-perfect", and the former won "Outstanding Italian" in the Beijinger's 2011 Restaurant Awards. Stylistically similar, somewhat spendy and both situated close to the Third Ring Road: FIGHT!

In the Red Corner: Salami e Olive, Pizza by LMPlus (RMB 92)

Style: Appearance-wise, slightly wimpy. I dub thee 'Baby Neapolitan'. Yours truly has never been to Naples (and incidentally, I've also never been to me,) but I'm willing to bet the pizzas there look like they could shake you up. This pie does not look like it could shake anyone up. It doesn't even look like it could give you its milk money.

Crust: Pale and floury, with a hint of sauce. An excellent crust-to-pizza-proper ratio: just enough to relish the difference, but not overwhelmingly bready. Nicely crispy on the back end, but not crunchy. Does well as a neutral topping-carrier.

Cheese & sauce: Unremarkable. The sauce isn't quite hearty enough to stand up on its own, the cheese a little bland. I don't demand a Roquefort-strength smack in the face, but this hunk o' mozza fails to make itself known, flavor-wise. Cheese 'n sauce complete the pizza, but do not elevate it to any great heights.

Toppings: The odd chili pepper sliver, olive half and sopressa slice. Said slices are very thin, more shaving than slice, and as you can see, only seven in number. What gives, LMPlus? Eight pieces of pie, and only seven pieces of salami? That's going to make someone a sad, sad panda. Chili oil might have worked better than fresh chili, or both in tandem: this amount of fresh chili alone means that one bite out of six might be deliciously spiced.

Satisfaction: Leaves the lips delightfully abuzz with spice, when you do manage to get a chili pepper. Laudable use of olive. The thing about thin-crusts: at their ideal, you can roll them up and eat them like a wonderful, dodgy sandwich. We did this, and the result was pas mal.

Morning after: I'm going to disqualify both contestants in this category. Thin-crust pizza is not meant to last beyond twenty minutes. It's not horrible, but it does start you on that horrible downward spiral of lamentation – "oh, what it was!" **

Next up ...

In the Blue Corner: Diavola, Tavola (RMB 98+15% service)

Style: Six-slice, thin-crusted Neapolitan. Not much to say here.

Crust: Thin, but with reasonably decisive heft. A little charming char plus some parmesan spillover. I know it's not proper, but if there was more cheese on the crust, I would be so happy. Mind you, I did used to order plain cheese stuffed-crust pizza from the Devil, and just eat the stuffed crust, so what do I know.

Cheese & sauce: Luxe white puddles of buffalo mozzarella, with a mildly tangy tomato base. A slightly punchier sauce would be nice: most of the flavor comes from the cheese and salami. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but the melty nature of this pie means that two bites in, most of the toppings have been consumed already.

Toppings: A stray basil leaf, and a slight undertone of olive oil prop up slices of salami. The meat is of decent quality – good enough to play in a duet, but probably wouldn't fill a venue on a solo tour. The Simon and/or Garfunkle problem, so to speak. Or in other words, tastes best with cheese, but as mentioned previously, both are finished two bites in.

Satisfaction: Between the frequent water refills and well-balanced cutlery, a "yeah, OK, this is decent" pie is upgraded to "yes!". The ingredients are quality – look at that cheese melt! – and just between you and me, Tavola's gorgonzola pizza absolutely does not lack for punch. One pizza should be decently filling for your average gentleman; a lady would probably have enough to dabao. Unless, of course, that lady is me, who didn't.

Morning after: See **.

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The relatively small price difference – yet the vastly disparate service/surrounding levels – was a contributing factor. Tavola, if anything, seemed to be slightly overstaffed and provided a seriously plush pizza experience. Down in Central Park, I was refused a fapiao until I demanded to know why, and was finally summarily dismissed to LMPlus proper for it. Bad form, kids, bad form. I'd still recommend both pizzas over the vast majority of Beijing offerings.

Verdict? T-t-t-Tavola!

Not sick of pizza yet? Neither are we. Come back next Monday for more steaming cheese-on-flatbread action. In the mean time, revisit previous battles here:

Episode III: The Den v Pizza Buona
Episode II: Eatalia v Pyro Pizza
Episode I: Hutong Pizza v Pass-by Bar

Follow the BJ Pizza Wars as we pit 24 of the city's best pies head to head here: http://www.thebeijinger.com/blog/BJ-Pizza-Wars. Each Monday at 2 Tom O'Malley takes a look at two Beijing pizza joints while Thursdays at 2 Susan Sheng pits pie vs pie.

Photos: Susan Sheng