There is nothing excessive about this Neapolitan-inspired pie place other than the wait. Brown paper still covered the windows when we went; an exposed wall held three tiny paintings that did nothing to distract from the raw construction. But gleaming in the back was a fire under the oven’s round dome, which let everyone know that these people are serious about pizza. The chewy crust tastes faintly of sourdough, with a few spots of char, and the toppings are prescribed—no indulging the whims of the diner. Balance seems to be the mantra. A fresca pizza came topped with American prosciutto (salty), arugula (bitter), cherry tomatoes (sweet), and slivers of Parmesan (for the savory umami element). A version with broccoli rabe and sweet sausage was, if anything, even better, but it was the simple margherita, with just a bit of tomato, a few leaves of basil, and fresh mozzarella, that took top honors. We think it’s incomparable in town. (9/13)