An authentic Neapolitan pizza is the sum of its humble but sublime parts: a blistered, leopard-spotted crust, the tangy punch of San Marzano tomatoes and the gentle pull of fior di latte mozzarella.

After moving to the tiny island of Bahrain last summer, I quickly gave up on finding one.

What Bahrain did have, however, was a growing love for New York-style pies. Empire Pizza, a tiny takeout joint opened in 2024 by British-Bahraini duo Mo and Sally, built a loyal following. No wood-fired ovens, no Neapolitan certification, no nonna in the back working the dough. But it hit the spot.

Still, I was hoping for more than just a good slice — something slower, softer and steeped in the old ways. Maybe even kissed by fire.

Nuovo Pizzeria — literally “new pizzeria” — is precisely that: a fresh face on the island, and also one that is serious about honoring the art of Neapolitan pizza.

I started with delivery — basically Bahrain’s national sport, second only to complaining about the drivers.

The pizza tasted better than expected. If the crust stays soft and has chew, even after the cheese has cooled into a gentle duvet, you’re dealing with a stellar pie. I ordered twice within the week, sabotaging my diet but resurrecting my crust standards.

The next move was the first of three in-person visits. I brought a fellow pizza obsessive and we grabbed seats facing the dome-shaped oven — half gas, half wood, full of drama. We ordered three pizzas, two starters and dessert.

We began with the burrata salad and arancini. It was fresh, but burrata, bless it, needs a healthy pinch of sea salt, or it just tastes like creamy, luxurious silence. Skip the salad and get the burrata pizza instead.

The arancini? Not bad. I’m cursed to have lived in Sicily, where arancini are tear-shaped and filled with a rich, tomato-slicked ragù studded with peas and melting cheese. These were good — but save your appetite for as many pizzas as your stomach and wallet can manage.

We went full tilt on the pizzas: the Diavola, topped with pepperoni, red onion, fresh chili, honey and basil; the Siciliana, which builds on their signature Margherita with Parmesan, bocconcini (those small mozzarella balls), cherry tomatoes, red onions, olives and delicate, flower-like eggplant chips; and finally, the Dolce Formaggio, a white pie layered with gorgonzola, bocconcini, fior di latte, whipped ricotta, fresh figs, crushed walnuts, honey and a tangle of spicy arugula.

Diavola is not your average hot honey pizza; it feels fancy and feral at the same time. The honey is pure and uninfused, so the heat comes solely from the chopped red chilis.

The Dolce Formaggio came together in a funky, jammy collision. It was a cheese plate with an identity crisis, and we were into it.

The crunch from the walnuts began the textural contrast. The whipped ricotta brought softness, while the figs held their shape like they had something to prove. My guest and I exchanged glances, nodding like two people pretending we weren’t emotionally moved by a pizza.

The finale was a slice of tiramisu — surprisingly light and sneaky, and completely unexpected since I’m rarely impressed by it.

I stopped by for lunch on another visit and ordered an ode to the classic, controversial Hawaiian. It started with their tomato sauce, fior di latte, fresh basil leaves, black olives, red onions and thin slices of fresh pineapple. A generous glug of grassy, bright green olive oil tied it together.

The finishing touches? Sautéed pineapple slices, caramelized just enough to give them depth without turning them into candy, along with Parmesan curls and a scattering of arugula. The fresh pineapple made all the difference — none of those syrupy chunks that taste like they’ve been on vacation in a Dole can since the ‘90s.

Then came the owner. He insisted I try his favorite pizza — the Burrata. He brought it up more than once while I was snapping photos, with the pride usually reserved for a firstborn child.

The pizzaiolo got to work: marinara base, a bit of aged Parmesan, fior di latte, pesto, cherry tomatoes and their sun-dried cousins for extra oomph. Then the centerpiece — a beautiful orb of burrata, sliced into four perfect quadrants. There was a drizzle of olive oil. But the boldest move? Sharp lines of pistachio cream and balsamic reduction.

When the pizza is sliced, it’s done with scissors — not a wheel. They explained it was about protecting the crust’s integrity. A traditional cutter crushes the delicate air pockets in the fermented dough while scissors glide through cleanly.

I used a fork to glide the burrata over the slice I’d already picked up and folded, my head tilted slightly to the left, ready to shovel into my mouth.

The staff of five, plus the owner, locked their eyes on me in silence. No one moved. They weren’t just watching — they were waiting. Waiting to see if I got it. Waiting to see if I understood the sorcery of this pizza. And I did.

Nuovo may be new, but its techniques honor old-world traditions. This is your place if you’re after proper Neapolitan pizza in a clean spot with plenty of parking. If you’ve ever journeyed to Italy, you’ll realize how wild it is that a micro-island like Bahrain has a restaurant that bakes something this close to the real thing.

Nuovo Pizzeria

Address: Catamaran Towers/Bldg. 3132, Shop No. 8, Road 4653, Manama, Bahrain   Hours: Sunday through Thursday, noon-10 p.m.; Friday through Saturday, noon-1 a.m.   Prices: 4BD to 7 BD (11 USD to 18 USD) for most entrees.   Information: Phone: +973 3336 6940; Instagram: @nuovopizzeria.bh; Online: talabat.com/bahrain/nuovo-pizzeria