Fried pizza
Round or half-moon shaped, open or folded “a portafoglio”, fragrant and filled — but above all, born out of necessity.
Neapolitan fried pizza isn’t the poor cousin of oven-baked pizza — it’s a queen in her own right.
It’s the most authentic symbol of Neapolitan cuisine which, in its toughest times, responded with creativity, solidarity, and a crisp sense of irony.
Where the oven couldn’t reach
We’re in the post-war years. Wood-fired pizzerias are scarce, bread is in short supply, poverty is widespread.
But Neapolitan resourcefulness knows no famine of ideas.
So, the women of the neighbourhoods begin preparing dough not for baking, but for frying.
And so fried pizza is born: stuffed with ricotta, cicoli (pork cracklings), provola, pepper, and a pinch of hope.
It’s fried at home, in the street, on makeshift stoves.
It’s sold for a few coins, eaten with the hands.
It’s the food of the people — full of hunger, but also of celebration.
The “a ogge a otto” pizza
Frying pizza has ancient roots, but modern Neapolitan fried pizza was born — and thrived — in the 1940s and ’50s, in the postwar context.
This is when it became a street food of identity, with the famous formula “a ogge a otto” — you ate it today, and paid eight days later.
Because Naples has always believed that a bite of goodness is worth more than a guarantee.
Fried pizza was a line of credit, an unwritten pact between those who made it and those who received it.
Crispy outside, soft inside
This isn’t just any fried dough.
The dough is thicker and firmer than that used for oven-baked pizza, to withstand the heat of boiling oil.
The classic filling is explosive: ricotta, cicoli, melting provola.
But there are also versions with salami, tomato, or vegetables.
To someone tasting it for the first time, it feels like a hot, hearty, affectionate hug. To Neapolitans, it’s the taste of childhood and street corners.
Not folklore, but identity
Today, fried pizza is back in the spotlight.
Not only in the historic friggitorie of the Quartieri Spagnoli or Sanità, but also in contemporary pizzerias, where it’s reimagined with flair and respect.
It’s not a culinary souvenir — it’s street cuisine with pride and dignity.
Naples celebrates it in films (from L’oro di Napoli to the iconic scene with Sophia Loren), in events, and in daily queues.
And every time you take a bite, it tells a different story — but always a true one.
Fried pizza doesn’t ask to be understood.
It just asks to be eaten.
Hot. With your hands. And with your heart.
