Sfizio - a review
if you're reading this, please gatekeep
There are few times in life where you go to a restaurant, you eat the food, and as you take in and savor it, the perfection of the moment is impressed upon you like you’ve never experienced before and you never want that moment to end. This was my experience at Sfizio a couple months ago when Jane and I went because I sent her another Artifact article that I barely skimmed about this newly opened cheap-eats pasta restaurant that sold plates of spaghetti for $10. $10! $10 is unheard of for a solid meal in the Bay. It really is. Even a burger + fries combo at Shake Shack will set you back at least $12. Oh, and don’t forget to tip.
Sfizio lives on a corner of a busy 5-fingered intersection in Berkley. A handful of tables surround the corner lot and about the same number of tables are on the inside. Both times we went, it was mildly packed where all the tables were taken on the inside but there was plenty of space outside to sit on the sidewalk. The interior of Sfizio itself is perfection worth breathing in. Right as you walk through the door, you enter into a cramped congregating spot for all the confused customers. You are one of them. There’s a chalkboard menu posted on the shale blue wall immediately to your right that we’re probably all staring at. Sfizio has a seating system where you line up to order first, then the host will walk you to your seat pending availability - but that’s sort of unclear. You either know it or you don’t. I think it’s designed that way.
To your left are the indoor tables. Conversations are lively and accompanied by the percussive clinks of glasses of wine and the ramblings of the open kitchen.The open kitchen is the main character here. It takes up 70% of the space in the interior of Sfizio. ¾ of the staff wear man-buns, one of whom tends to the pasta, the cooking, and the plating in that kitchen. Behind the counter, right in front of you is a shelf of random travel and cook books out of a Pottery Barns catalog with a record player that broadcasts European jazz funk through the small speakers anonymously placed around the restaurant.
There are probably plenty of spaces in the Bay that follow the same open kitchen, record player concept. But experiencing the food truly transcended whatever pleasure I derived from walking into that space. Both times, I ordered the $10 spaghetti which we upgraded with 3 big meatballs for $5 - still a good deal. And pesto.
Sidebar. Spaghetti is spaghetti. It’s hard to get it wrong. Most people know what to expect from baseline spaghetti - a warm steaming plate of slightly overcooked noodles doused in a piping hot tomato sauce scarcely dressed beyond what came out of the can. If you’re lucky, they’ll garnish the spaghetti with shivers of basil that’ll give the dish a tasteful lift. It’s undefeated. It is a winning combo. There’s a reason all of us crave it from time to time but also tend to avoid it at restaurants. This is usually something we can enjoy within the confines of our homes.
My. Brothers/Sisters. In. Christ. The spaghetti + meatballs here were transcendent. Their locally-sourced handmade thick spaghetti perfectly balances these sweet, slightly starchy and exactly al dente textures and flavors - noodles finished cooking as you chewed. The sauce was vibrantly flavored with what felt like the brightest summer tomatoes from Italy. As I’m writing this, I’m still baffled by how they made the meatballs so hearty and good. Well-incorporated sodium in the meat provided the precise umami ornamentation to the earthy sweetness that blended so seamlessly into a hand-sized ball of goodness. Jane says that the meatballs are lucious - I kind of agree. I feel like I could win a meatball eating competition if the meatballs were made by the curly man-bunned staff at Sfizio.
I’ll write about their pesto some other time. The magic really is in the noodles I think. Good noodles with good sauce and parmesan. You really can’t beat that. This place is awesome.
Man Bun 1: Sfizio
It was a normal ass Wednesday night. 3 Asians walked through the door and stared at the chalkboard menu for literally way too long. I don’t know why people take so long – it’s literally 3 things on the menu. One Asian wanted a glass of wine so she’s probably the alcoholic of the group. They seemed to be consulting the dude, who I think I recognized previously – yeah, he was the really nice guy who gushed to Joe [Man Bun 2] about the luscious meatballs. He had seemed genuine, and it was sweet but we’re pretty over it at this point.
Finally after standing there in the length of time I could have had a cigarette, they ordered and then stood there awkwardly, and a rush of people came through the door. Why can’t people just move to the side once they’ve ordered their shit? Then again, I had to make their drinks while they stared at me – I hate it when people do that. I’m not your zoo animal.
The alcoholic Asian insisted on getting a specific outside table – whatever, that was fine but it was still fucking annoying. Joe fake smiled through his teeth and asked them to wait outside.
Chef: Sfizio
I recognized the Asian guy who I think had once come with another artsy type lady, who was probably his girlfriend because they had made goo goo eyes at each other over the entire dinner. At the end, I remember he had written her a poem and spoke it aloud over our Tiramisu, while delicately sipping on limeade. Were these other women his sisters? They seemed to be teasing him a lot. He didn’t seem too uncomfortable.
There had been a car accident 5 minutes earlier – at first when I heard it I was scared it was serious, and there had already been 3 others this week. These bay area drivers! I was worried it would be bad for business since we’re on the corner – but these customers didn’t care and it turned out the driver had just run into a skateboarder.
Steve [Man Bun 1] was moving really slowly today and I asked him to take the food to their table originally – maybe he was flirting too much with Joe. Our table of three seemed to really enjoy their food. I wanted to talk to them and be more conversational but sometimes I don’t want to interrupt. One of them didn’t touch the meatballs, but the others seemed to really enjoy them.
Steve shuffled up to me telling me the toilet was clogged (again). As if I’m supposed to do something about this! Theresa [the owner] is not going to be happy – but I took my apron off and fixed it quickly before anyone else could notice. Shit, we’re out of soap too. I hope the staff have been washing their hands. Fred on the line gave me an eye roll once all the tickets came rolling in, and Zach kept using the shitty olive oil. I saw Joe and Steve head to the walk-in to “do inventory” – for the fifth time tonight. Do they think I’m an idiot? Thank god we have Samantha who is basically keeping us all together. Even though I kept catching her studying between tables.
Samantha: Sfizio
Working with all these men makes me want to be high all the time. I haven’t seen Joe and Steve since they snuck into the walk-in, but at least Chef seems to be in a good mood. I could hear them making sounds in the walk-in which made me think of the days when Joe and I used to sneak in there. I guess I’ll go check on the 3 asians outside, who still seem to be having a good time. The guy had completely cleared his plate. The cute one in the quirky outfit hadn’t eaten much. The girl in all black immediately shoved food in her mouth when I came by to check on them, while the guy gave her a serious side eye.
I saw Steve again whose man bun looked a little sweaty and needed a little fixing – and told him that his table looked ready for the check soon. He dropped it and I saw them prepping to leave. I thought of how I can’t wait to return home to my cats, smoke a fat joint, and watch Tik Toks with my roommate. I hope he isn’t blasting that EDM when I come home – what a tech bro.
Daniel: Sliver Pizzeria
Jenny and I had just cracked open a beer and were drinking it behind the line. This guilty looking Asian girl came through the door and asked if she could use our bathroom. Who does she think she is? She wasn’t even a customer – she’s probably another entitled UC Berkeley student. I told her she could buy something or leave, so she did. I can’t believe it’s only Wednesday.