Milo and Olive: In Praise of the Pie | Whole Life Times — Los Angeles Holistic Health Magazine

Like a lot of people, I like pizza. But apart from a love of bread topped with cheese, tomatoes and everything else you can put on a crust, I have other pizza cred, thanks to having lived in New Haven, Conn., the purported birthplace of American pizza. (I’ve learned not to argue this point, as someone is likely to get cut.) Spending high school and college in a pizza/burger foodietown has its advantages, and perhaps even outweighs the worth of my diploma from Yale, but that’s another story. Let me put it this way: I’ve forgotten much of what I learned in school, but I will never forget Sally’s Apizza. I fell in love with the perfect crust—crispy on the outside, but chewy and light on the inside. Sturdy enough to hold the likes of clams and broccoli, but thin and supple enough to bend if it’s not folded. It has to be something you can eat with either a knife and fork or your hands. It has to be perfect. What goes on top may keep us coming, but it’s the crust that makes us stay.

Milo and Olive, a modest enterprise recently opened by the creators of Rustic Canyon, Huckleberry and Sweet Rose Creamery, has mastered the crust! You can thank pastry chef Zoe Nathan and executive chef Evan Funke for perfecting the dough. Thank them. Really. It’s the best pizza crust I’ve had on the west coast.

My father and I shared two pizzas—butternut squash with caramelized onions, served with a fried egg, sunny-side up, on top; and house-made pork belly sausage with braised greens, tomato and fresh mozzarella—along with an arugula and radicchio salad with fried capers, shaved fennel and anchovy dressing.

I’d never had fried capers before; they’re delicious! As for the sausage, I consider myself an aspiring vegetarian, but now and again I succumb to a fondness for pork, so when an opportunity comes ‘round to sample organic sausage made in-house, the vegetarian in me takes a willing powder. Their sausage is sublime—no gristle, no tragic textures, just good, savory flavor.

The butternut squash pizza was like dessert; sweet to my taste for dinner, but ideal for breakfast if you prefer the savory to the sticky bun. I took a slice home to see if it could withstand the overnight test—pizza should taste better the next day—and because I knew I’d wake up wanting it. The egg on crispy crust, paired with the caramelized squash and onions, was morning-meal perfection. Fortunately, Milo and Olive is open for breakfast at 7am.

Other things we did not taste, but look forward to next time: fresh ricotta crostini, served in a fluffy, white heap atop freshly baked, toasted bread and drizzled with olive oil; and marinated green beans in honey rosemary vinaigrette. The fresh-picked beans stand on the plate all perky and seem set to jump into your mouth. This is because as many ingredients as possible are sourced from local, organic purveyors, explained general manager Arthur Sherman.

The room is warm and open; small, but feels large, thanks to vaulted ceilings and exposed beams. The pizza is wood-fired in a traditional brick-oven—key to the crust! It is in this location, using a six-tiered baking oven in back, that they make the bread for all of their restaurants, so the pizza-joint ambience is warmed further by an irresistible selection of baked goods and pastries.

The vibe here is one of youthful optimism and conviviality, but diners of all ages provide a diversity rare to the hot-restaurant scene. While enjoying the crumbs of our feast over coffee, we had the pleasure of witnessing baby’s first muffin at the next table, a vegan banana-chocolate-chip-affair, and baby was very, very pleased.

The staff is expert, the music is good (great hits from the ’60s and ’70s), complimentary seltzer is dispensed from their own machine, and the food is outstanding. Milo and Olive—the perfect crust in a shaky world.