COMMENTS & CURIOSITIES:

Ever had a pizza? I have. Do you know what “pizza” means in Italian? I do. Nothing.

It’s from the Latin word “picea”… what the Romans called a round of dough that was blackened in a clay oven to make a pie shell. Isn’t that interesting? OK, maybe not. But this is more interesting.

I had a pizza at a new spot in Costa Mesa this week that just might be the best I have had this side of Naples, and I have consumed a lot of pizza, in Naples and everywhere else that pizza can be found, which is everywhere.

“Pizzeria Ortica” is hip and happening and the latest addition to the Anton Boulevard shops just east of the Westin South Coast Plaza, in the space formerly occupied by “Turner New Zealand” — a name that I didn’t understand when it was here and still don’t now that it isn’t.

But first, in the interest of full disclosure, I have to reveal my pizza prejudices.

Former New Yorkers like me spend their lives, however short or long, in search of New York-style pizza. It’s one of those things we think about, we dream about, we can hardly think of anything else.

But here is the irony about New Yorkers and all our whining about pizza. A New York pizza isn’t a world-class pizza at all. It’s a simplified, cheesed up, overly-oiled version of Neapolitan pizza — thin crust, as it should be, but covered with 2 1/2 pounds of mozzarella, a half pound of pepperoni and enough olive oil to lubricate a Big Block 454 in a 1970 Corvette.

I love it, gotta have it, never leave New York without it and by the way, if you’re looking for the best slice in Manhattan, go to Sacco Pizza on Ninth Avenue and 54th Street. It is a religious experience, but you can never, ever tell your cardiologist you went there. OK, fine, but if New York pizza is not the gold standard, what is?

If you truly want to find where pizza royalty resides, you go to Naples — the world capital of pizza. It is not a coincidence that the first pizzerias that you would recognize as such only opened in Naples centuries ago.

“Pizzeria Brandi” supposedly opened in 1780 and is still in business today, believe it or not. I first went there when I was 16 years old, which was a frighteningly long time ago, but I can still taste it and savor it, and the crust … the crust, I’m sorry …I can’t do this right now.

Do you need to go to Naples to experience the pinnacle of pizza? You do not. You need to go to Pizzeria Ortica on Anton, which is way closer than Naples, no jet lag, and you can bring as many carry-on items as you want.

It’s just lunch for now, but they will be open for dinner as soon as their shakedown cruise is done.

Chef David Myers, who took L.A. by culinary storm with Sona, Boule and comme Ça, and Executive Chef Steve Samson not only did their pizza homework before they launched Pizzeria Ortica, but also aced the advanced placement course with a 4.0.

The best pizza oven in the universe? That would be a Mugnaini wood-burning oven, thank you, which Myers dragged all the way from Naples to Costa Mesa, which takes forever and just about killed the UPS guy, but it was worth it.

Because the essence of a pizza is its crust — it is no better or worse than that — the dough at Pizzeria Ortica is born from a special Biga starter imported from the hills outside Naples, which the UPS guy liked much better than the oven, and which serves as a leavener that produces a distinctively light, airy dough perfect for pizza and ciabatta.

The result is the elusive, delicate but mildly chewy and authentically Neapolitan crust with the raised, slightly charred edge called “cornicione” — Italian for cornice or ledge. Savor, swallow, sigh, repeat.

There is a pizza for every taste and mood at Pizzeria Ortica, but being Sicilian, my eye immediately went to the pizza con salsiccia, mascarpone e finnocchio — house-made sausage, mascarpone and caramelized fennel, a Sicilian favorite.

But is it all pizza all the time at Pizzeria Ortica? Now you’re being silly. They offer a full menu of antipasti, primi, secondi, contorni (sides) and dolci (desserts) with an eclectic range of regional choices from Piemonte to Sicily — ravioli con pomidoro fresco e basilico, tagliatelle con prosciutto e piselli (peas), lasagna Bolognese, among others. The antipasti are excellent and remarkably authentic.

We tried the carciofi alla Romana con ricotta salata — braised baby artichokes with shaved, salted ricotta Roman-style that would be perfectly at home in the any trattoria on the Piazza Navona. You will be well pleased, pizza or no; trust me on this.

Was it the perfect dining experience? Missed it by that much. As is always the case, service is the hardest code for any new restaurant to crack.

Our hostess seated us and gave us, inexplicably, only one menu. Over the next few minutes, I asked a bus boy for another menu — niente — then another hostess — nada — so we passed the menu back and forth until our waiter arrived, who finally got us another menu.

No worries. They will sort it out. The only other oddity was a note describing a panino called the “Arthur Avenue” as paying homage to “…the street that was once the heart of Little Italy in the Bronx.”

Hmm. I grew up a stone’s throw from Arthur Avenue, still get back there often, and if it is no longer the heart of Little Italy in the Bronx — someone forgot to tell the people on Arthur Avenue that. Again, a minor detail that was quickly forgotten when the first incredible morsel of pizza arrived and did its magic.

That’s it then. Pizzeria Ortica — autentica, deliciosa, and like they say in Positano, you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven. That’s not exactly how they say it in Positano, but close. I gotta go.

PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Sundays. He may be reached at [email protected].