When I walked up to Bob at SeventhHILL, I expected to just order a pizza, get it boxed, and head home to eat.

When I ordered a 12″ tomato, black olive, anchovies, basic pizza, I expected 20 minutes’ wait so I ordered a wine and sat at the bar.

As soon as I sat down, my pizza was done. Crispy and aromatic.

Anthony, the owner and chef, told me it kills him to send his pizza away in a box and asked me to have one piece there.

“How do Italians eat pizza? Germans eat it with fork and knife,” I asked.

“Italians tear their pizza, like bread,” he said. It kills him to even cut his pizzas.

I sipped my wine, tore my pizza, and at the whole thing out of the box, bellied up to the bar.

Some of the crust is charred a little from the stove, but in a good way. The anchovies are not those nasty furry salty things but meaty white meat in oil. Basil off the stalk. Pitted Kalamata olive (there are too many lawyers in Washington to keep the pits in). The sauce is rich and the crust is thin. You’ll love it.

7H has a wood_burning, authentic, pizza stove. They import their tippo 00 flour from Naples. He’s serious about pizza.

He doesn’t call his pizza classical, he calls his neoclassical, reminiscent of DC’s architecture.

SeventhHILL also offers specials and fresh paninis made from homemade bread.

Listen, Oliver, Al, Tonia, Andrew, and Effie are nuts about this place and always have been since it opened.

This is my first time here. Business is a little slow so I want you all to jump in your car, on the Metro, on your bikes, and get your culo over here.

Forget about the nasty super-size slices up in Adams Morgan and come get some authentic Italian pizza with the bonus of listening to Cleveland, Ohio, Anthony, speak his very convincing Italian-as-a-second-language.

I love all of it. And I want them to not only pack them in at their Eastern Market location but I want a SeventhClarendon and a SeventDupont and a SeventhChinatown and a SeventH.