Some business owners simply slap a catchy moniker on their establishments, while others consider the choice with mathematical precision. For one Nipomo-area restaurateur, however, the two approaches collided, giving rise to a neighborhood gathering place with an unforgettable name: Pi-Whole Pizzeria.
“How do I explain?” chuckled Phil Silver, owner of Pi-Whole Pizzeria. “My son said we should call it ‘pie hole,’ but the phrase didn’t mean anything to me. I figured we should call it Old Town Pizza or something that ties it into the local scene.”
One day, while driving north on Thompson Avenue in Nipomo, Silver spotted the 900-foot tall Picacho, a remnant of Miocene-era volcanic activity, cutting a distinctly conical figure against the sky.
“I knew we were going to have lava lamps and serve things like our White Hot Pastrami sandwich,” Silver said, “and I thought ‘pi whole!’ Pi is for the roundness of our pizzas, and ‘whole’ is for our wholesome, healthy food.
“The value of pi is on our label, carried out to 21 places,”
he added, “because without knowing the value of pi, you don’t know how to price the pizza. I thought it would be fun to blend in an educational element.”
Silver recently relocated the restaurant to a large, welcoming space in Nipomo’s Adobe Plaza. Boasting patio dining, a video game room, four flat-screen TVs, and a bar stocked with wine and 12 beers on tap, Pi-Whole’s new digs serve equally well as a date-night destination, family dinner spot, or lively venue for team celebrations.
Silver prides himself on his menu, which features thick- and thin-crust pizzas named for the volcanoes of the world and topped with ingredients typical of each location. For instance, Mt. Kilawaea is made with pepperoni, jalapeños, pineapple, red onion, and fresh garlic, while Mt. Olympus comes adorned with Parmesan garlic shrimp, grilled chicken, marinated artichoke heart, feta cheese, and black olives.
Krakatoa, which erupted in 1897, creating an explosion heard round the world, is memorialized with a tangy barbecue sauce topped with grilled chicken breast, spicy Italian sausage, cilantro, sweet bell pepper, pineapple, jalapeño, and red onion. Honoring Nipomo’s nearby cone with a pizza called the Picachu, Silver spreads barbecued steak, fresh cilantro, red onion, and baby corn over salsa verde.
“Our menu offers a great deal of creativity,” Silver declared. “Nothing was borrowed from anyone else’s recipe or cookbook, and nothing is pre-made.
“We concentrate on lean meats and fresh ingredients,” he continued. “Our specialty is our Zesty Red Sauce and our crust—we make it from homemade dough.”
Silver’s Zesty Red Sauce packs a sweet spiciness that sets it apart from lesser pizza toppers and evokes the well-crafted pies more commonly found east of the Mississippi. Combined with a fine crust unmarred by doughy excess, these pizzas—each a handmade work of edible art—prove eye-opening to anyone who considers pizza to be undistinguished fast food.
In addition to pizza, the menu at Pi-Whole includes Cool Splash salads and signature Lava Bombs, which are a bit like gourmet hot pockets stuffed with pastrami, turkey, or hamburger, and doused with various blends of mustard, spices, and cheese.
“Our most popular is the White Hot Pastrami Bomb,” Silver said. “It’s made with our special White Hot mix, which is a combination of sauerkraut, yellow mustard, pepperincinis, and fresh garlic.”
Wearing wire-rimmed glasses, a Pi-Whole T-shirt, and a big smile, Silver happily answers any and all questions about his friendly eatery with the catchy name. A native of Ohio, he learned about quality pizza at an early age and experienced a kind of culture shock when he sampled California’s version.
“I came from a small town where there was a pizza shop on every corner,” he said. “I moved to Fresno, and friends took me out for pizza. It was so bad, I said, ‘Take me to another place,’ but no place was any better.”
Although his first impulse was to show West Coasters the true glory of a well-made pizza, he opened a French restaurant instead, and ran it for about five years. In 1983, he moved with his family to Orcutt, where he ran a bicycle repair shop for 12 years.
But the hunger for good pizza finally got the best of him, and in 2004, Silver opened the Pi-Whole Pizzeria, where he can be found most days. Assisted by his two sons and extended family, he serves fresh draft beer in ice-cold glasses, hearty Lava Bombs, and amazing pizzas.
With the restaurant’s recent move, Silver makes a welcome promise to Central Coast pizza lovers with a yen for the real thing: “More pi, more whole!”
K. Reka Badger has a fiery personality. E-mail comments or ideas to rekabadger@hotmail.com.
This article appears in Mar 26 – Apr 2, 2009.
