New eatery abating area's pizza hunger

ERIN I. LEWIS/YH Abate opened last week.

Can you have too much of a good thing? New Haven, having posed the hypothesis "naah," seems determined to find the final answer through pure experimentation. The latest trial: Abate Brothers Apizza and Deli, the newest kid on the Whitney Avenue block.

This bundle of joy arrived three weeks ago into a venerable family of restauranteurs, owners of a pasta and seafood establishment on the famous Wooster Street, and also recently proud parents of Luigi's Apizza, the York Street home of 99-cent slices and seductive, talking calzones. Abate Brothers is different from its predecessors, with hours, prices, and selection suited to its business-district location. Its most vaunted distinction is truly a striking feature in this land of floppy messes: its pizza has thick crust.

Known as the "fat slice," this portly, portable pie trumps the offerings of the old pizza triumvirate in sheer quantity of dough, while outshining other local newcomers in apparent freshness and flavor. The bready base has a flavor suggestive of wheat and yeast (rather than orange grease), while the copious mozzarella is soft and mild atop the sweet tomato sauce.

It's good, solid food; not exotic, but by the same token, not difficult to eat. It can be jazzed up with an array of "gourmet toppings," a list that includes tuna fish and escarole and beans. There are also numerous variations on the theme of bread, sauce, cheese, and toppings, from thin slices to stuffed breads to calzones to stuffed pizza. These are only a few of the greatest hits of quick-prep Italian-American cuisine presented here for our delectation.

For a little place—the dining space is entirely below-ground, as the kitchen claims nearly all the first floor—Abate Brothers has a whacking great menu. Alpha professionals can maintain their executive waistlines by power-walking to the salad bar, while followers of the buffet aesthetic stampede to the steam tables hea-ped with trays of me-at and ch-eese. Those with a refined palate may sample mini-frittatas, foccaccias, or the soup of the day. The leisurely diner has the option of sitting down to appetizers and full-blown entrees; those whose need to eat and run will later send them searching for the Tums and the Trident can take out subs, wraps, or deli sandwiches; and everyone can grab a Snapple from the fridge. Mmm, Snapple. We all know what that's made from.

All food is created on the premises except the desserts, which come from a local bakery. The selection of dainties in Abate Brother's third week of business was limited to three items, but judging from the mousse-layered chocolate cake, they're holding down the fort. Expansion is, however, in the cards for this corner of the menu. Likewise, the restaurant will be experimenting with longer hours and delivery service in an attempt to cover more ground. Currently, lunch is the only meal of the day.

Perhaps if the restaurant adds dinner service, its dining room will be formalized a little further. At the moment, between the exciting red and black sponge-painted walls, folding chairs surround a scattering of small tables. There is no clear system for getting rid of leftover food and dirty dishes. One can imagine a resulting unpleasant accumulation of used trays and garbage during the busy hours.

So it's not upscale dining—but it's not meant to be. Hit the ATM and hire a taxi for Wooster Square if you really need class. The diurnal Abate does its own thing, and for the most part, it does it well and cheaply. Students may find it a bit slower or less cool or more costly than the new Broadway establishments: that's one of the trademarks of the Whitney Avenue restaurants. To my mind, as long as the food is good, it's a nice reminder that the Elm City has always had something going for it with or without our interventions.

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