Figs

Not your everyday pizza parlor

Hours
Different at the two locations. Call for information. Wine and beer only
All major credit cards
Handicap access: street level

by Charlotte Bruce Harvey

It's the bianco ($12.95), you discover upon rechecking the menu, although no ordinary bianco. The hot creamy stuff underneath the arugula is mozzarella cheese melted with caramelized slices of sweet onion, with garlic oil to boot. The bianco at Figs is a salad on pizza: hot and cold; fresh and cooked; creamy and crisp.

Figs is so far from your everyday pizza parlor it's hard even to call it that. But that's what most people are there for: the menu lists 14 pizzas, seven pasta dishes, plus daily specials and a scattering of salads and appetizers.

One of the dishes that made Figs co-owner Todd English famous is white-clam pizza, which was on the menu at Olives from the start. Olives moved up the street to more spacious and more elegant quarters, and Todd and Olivia English opened the more casual Figs, in the tiny space that Olives had originally inhabited on Main Street in Charlestown. Last March, they opened a second Figs in an even tinier spot on Charles Street in Beacon Hill.

The white-clam pizza ($16.25) has survived that growth; it's still on the menu. In a cooking class, I once heard Todd English tell about learning to make white-clam pizza in a Connecticut pizza parlor. As he talked, he quickly shucked a dozen or so littleneck clams, chopped them roughly, and scattered them on a thin round of dough with a generous fistful of chopped fresh oregano and garlic, then drizzled the pizza with olive oil and tossed on a little grated Italian parmesan. The briny clams were an outstanding foil to the crunchy dough and herbs. They still are.

One night this fall, Figs featured a pizza special - called a crostada - made with truffles and caramelized onions ($16.95). It was like a quesadilla: two super-thin layers of dough sandwiching melted fontina, soft slices of sweet red onion, and shavings of fragrant black truffle. The flavor and scent were wonderful, but the crust cooked too quickly and was burned in spots.

One of the prettiest and least traditional pizzas Figs makes is the calamari ($15.95). Spicy tomato sauce covers the dough, providing a base for a fresh arugula salad. A hearty order of batter-dipped, deep-fried squid tops the salad. It's impossible to eat neatly (the squid go crunching and flying off in all directions, while the arugula slides sideways), but it's a gorgeous concoction.

Figs's pizzas will easily feed two, especially with one of the simply and artfully prepared salads. Watercress and Bibb lettuce ($5.50) are tossed in a simple vinaigrette and paired with a thick walnut-bread crouton, then sprinkled with fine gratings of a creamy blue cheese. One of the most satisfying salads imaginable, it was delicate enough to win over a confirmed blue-cheese-hating guest on a recent visit. The mixed green salad ($4.50) is a purist's dream - a bowl of perfect baby greens in a tart vinaigrette. On a layer of prosciutto slices, seared summer greens ($5.95) were nicely bitter, tossed in olive oil and lemon juice - a good starter to split.

Risotto ($14.95) is not what most people come to a pizza parlor seeking, but it's well worth venturing off the trodden path for at Figs. Creamy, slightly crunchy kernels of rice were cooked in a corn-and-mushroom stock, then topped with grilled sweet corn, lumps of fresh crab meat, and slices of prosciutto oven-baked to the texture of crisp, fragile bacon. At the touch of a fork, they shattered over the rice and corn, an enticing juxtaposition of tastes and textures.

Among the pasta dishes, the pappardelle ($11.95) was deeply satisfying - thick, wide, al dente strips of pasta glazed in a chicken-and-wine sauce with diced chicken breast, bitter greens, and slivers of salty parmesan. Fedillini (a thin, dried pasta like angel hair; $10.25) was tossed with uncooked ripe tomato chunks, loads of fresh basil, and a sharp, buttery blue cheese.

Although the ingredients in a bowl of tagliatelle with seared shrimp and chickpeas ($13.95) were well prepared, the pasta soaked up its sauce too quickly and lost its appeal after just a few mouthfuls.

Figs offers a half-dozen or so wines as well as the Olives house beer, made by Sam Adams. The wines are all inexpensive, and they include some good finds, notably a 1988 Jaume Serra Reserva that showed what a great value a Spanish red can be. And the contents of the breadbaskets at Figs are noteworthy: a nutty whole-wheat country bread was memorable, as were strips of focaccia loaded with shreds of caramelized onion and fruity olive oil.

The dessert list is short at Figs. The tiramisú ($5.50) may be the best in town - an outstanding rendition of a now-ubiquitous dessert. Figs's version is made with sponge cake, layered in individual rounds with mascarpone cream. The cake has more texture than most, and the custard is creamy and not too sweet. A flourless chocolate cake ($5.25) turned out to be a good, but fairly ordinary, chocolate torte: thin layers of cake, layered with fluffy chocolate-butter cream frosting and raspberry sauce. A fruit crisp was all apple, with a thick layer of crunchy, nutty topping and a big dollop of whipped cream. An order of biscotti ($.95) brought a single, lonely-looking cookie. Coffee, espresso, and cappuccino were all made with fine, dark roasted beans.

Figs is loud and cramped (you get to admire your neighbors' meals up close), so it's not the spot for an intimate tête-à-tête. It's informal and high-energy, stylish but not pretentious. The music can be overwhelming at times, and smoke from the ovens can get dense (no smoking is allowed in the restaurant). But the staff's enthusiasm is contagious, and the food is well beyond the bounds of the ordinary.