It’s a rare congruence at Antico, one of Atlanta’s staple pizza joints, to sit elbow-to-elbow with locals of all ages over fantastic pizza with a chewy crust. There’s an effortless ease here — you preorder quickly (there’s no patience for indecisiveness), grab your ticket, and head to the cafeteria-style dining room where the pizza is brought to you.
People talk to each other here, and if you’re nice enough, they will share their wine. The couple beside us at the communal tables poured an Italian red wine they’d brought into plastic cups, clinking them soundlessly over their mushroom pizza. We did the same, pouring a Franciacorta rosé I’d marked “Pizza Wine.” Football (the European kind) played on one of the TVs as heat emanated from the open kitchen. Cheesy “That’s Amore” blasted from the speakers.
Be sure to save a splash of your wine, because next door at Gio’s (Antico’s Sicilian brother), pistachio gelato and tiramisu wait behind a glass case. Follow the blue checkered tablecloth to a seat outside, with a view of rusty Italian scooters parked out back. It’s a little slice of Italy in the heart of West Midtown.
