Brunch @ Coppa

Hangover Pizza

Hangover Pizza at Coppa

I’ve loved Coppa from the very moment I set foot in this tiny little restaurant in the South End. But I’d never tried it for brunch. I have a love/hate relationship with brunch. It is a lovely, decadent way to spend a late Sunday morning (because it’s not brunch without mimosas!), but having read so much about the food industry, I also know that brunch is the restaurant equivalent of “eating leftovers.” So if I’m going have brunch, I want it to not feel like I’m eating the week’s leftover food. For that matter, I also want a place that is civilized enough to take reservations. Waiting in line for an hour to eat is just not my idea of fun on a Sunday.

Coppa excels in both areas. They do take reservations and the menu is uniquely Coppa, and leans more heavily on savory dishes than sweet and more lunch than breakfast. There’s charcuterie, antipasti, wood-fired pizzas, pasta, and eggs. (If you are really in need of something sweet, the grilled nutella sandwich should help.) And, of course, they have the requisite brunch libations, including an excellent mimosa and housemade bloody mary, and something called a “Man Mosa” which is a split of prosecco, a bottle of San Pelligrino Aranciata, and a tall ice-filled mug.

We were not in any way, shape or form hungover, but the hangover ‘za spoke to us…Bacon, sausage, prosciutto, potatoes, mozzarella, scallion and two over easy farm eggs. Our mouths were watering. While we waited for the pizza, we had the tuna crudo which was served with sicilian olives (green); radishes and olive oil dashi. I was a bit suspicious of green olives and tuna, but it worked amazingly well. The salty brine of the olives balanced the rich tuna, and the oil enhanced it texture. I washed this down with a mimosa, which has an nice added touch of Solerna Blood Orange Liquore. D had a bloody mary, which was made with Aakavit and house bloody mary mix, and, according to D, the best he’s ever had.

And then the ‘za arrived, blazingly hot from the wood fired oven, the pizza dough with a quickly cooked, with a bubbled crust and steamy, soft chewy inside. It was coated with a spread of thick tomato sauce, not too sweet, mozzarella cheese, and a generous sprinkling of a variety of bits of salumi decorated the top, their edges curled and crispy, creating small pools of savory, but scalding-hot, rendered pork fat. The crowning glory were the eggs, gently cooked atop the pizza in the oven, firm whites with runny yolks. We cut into it, letting the yolk spread across the pizza, and took our first bites, not letting it cool. The egg worked magic, unifying all of the elements with a  creamy richness. An egg on top of a pizza is utter genius.

This pizza was well-named. I can only imagine how helpful it is if you are hungover, all that rich fat and succulent carbs ready to soak up the excess alcohol. We weren’t hungover, but it made us feel restored.

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