Pepe in Grani - sanctuary of pizzamaking

After a long wait, we finally made it to the restaurant of world-champion pizzaiolo Franco Pepe. Tucked away among the narrow streets of the picturesque little town of Caiazzo, Pepe in Grani truly feels like a hidden jewel.

The moment we stepped inside, it felt as though we’d arrived not simply at a restaurant, but at the chef’s home. The staff were endlessly kind, smiling, attentive, and impeccably prepared. Our table was upstairs, directly above the kitchen, and as we leaned over the glass tabletop, we could watch the kitchen team at work beneath our feet (video coming in a separate post). We told our waiter just one thing: “We’ve come from very far away, and we want to experience Franco’s magic!” and from that point on, everything flowed effortlessly.

Our first course was a Pizza Fritta: dough fried in oil (similar to lángos, though far less oily), topped with buffalo mozzarella, shrimp, and fresh salad. A powerful start. The fritta’s crisp texture and savory edge sat in perfect balance with the bright acidity of lemon-dressed greens, while the buffalo mozzarella and shrimp brought a soft, delicate richness.

Next came another fried creation: a “cone” filled with melted cheese sauce and pesto, finished with grated dried black olives. For cheese lovers, this might well be the definition of heaven. Honestly, even if we’d eaten only this, the trip as far as Naples would have felt worth it.

Third, we tried Franco’s deservedly famous signature: the Margherita Sbagliata - literally, the “Wrong Margherita.” The name refers to the method: instead of tomato, the cheese goes on the dough first, then a drizzle of olive oil, and it’s baked to completion. Only afterward are the strictly San Marzano tomatoes added, along with small dots of pesto. Franco calls it a mistake; I call it rare genius. Those fresh tomatoes open entirely new dimensions in pizza-making. Something I’ll absolutely be trying at home.

Over the course of the evening we tasted three more pizzas as well, each worthy of the spotlight, but this post is already running long.

Dessert was a sweet fritta, crowned with apricot jam grown on the slopes of Vesuvius, ricotta, and almonds. It was a superb finale and believe it or not, despite all that dough, we didn’t feel overly full.

True to local custom, we sipped light beer with dinner, and closed the night with coffee and limoncello so fresh, it tasted as if the lemons had been picked moments before.

After so many exceptional courses, Franco came to greet us at the end of the evening, warm, direct, and genuinely friendly. We gave him pálinka and Hungarian treats we’d brought from home, and then came the photos. As we talked, our Italian friends struck up a conversation with him, sharing who they were, who we were, what we do, and where we’d come from. To our great honor, Franco offered to take us upstairs to his small “sanctuary.”

Upstairs, an anteroom awaited us with three doors leading to other rooms. In the dining area, one of the most serious sound systems I’ve ever seen filled the space with inspiring Italian melodies. Franco spoke about the importance of depth of immersion in work, in art, and in life. Behind two of the doors were bedrooms: “If my guests grow tired or if they need silence, reflection, rest, they can retreat here.” The third door opened onto a corridor lined with hundreds upon hundreds of signatures and messages; across from it was Pepe’s private kitchen. “So many cooks, chefs, and pastry chefs come here. I cook for them, they tell me what they feel, what they experience in the food. We inspire each other: me them, them me.” Unbelievable. That maximalism, that hunger to create something extraordinary seemed to saturate the walls, the shelves, even the air itself.

I could share so much more, but from here I’ll keep it brief. We returned downstairs. In one room, under dim red light, a pizzaiolo was kneading dough, while the kitchen buzzed with constant motion. Franco said goodbye, but before letting us go, he even invited my father into the kitchen.

And then we truly set off for home, everyone wandering back through the narrow streets toward our car, still spellbound by what we’d experienced.

Thank you to Pepe in Grani for an unforgettable evening and special thanks to Franco for the warmth and attention he showed us. We’ll meet again, I hope very soon.

Fekete Tibor Jr.