Biga Pizza: Reviving my Craving

By Danielle Lattuga, 12-13-07

In Missoula, we are lucky enough to have a few restaurants that are not only chef-owned, but also happen to be the first solo expression of a chef’s vision.  I consider this luck, because there is something so very pure about a restaurant that represents some of the deepest, freshest creativity of one person’s dream.  These people have taken a space and an idea and shaped it into an experience of dining, and a style of dining, that sets it apart and seduces the community into a craving; of food, of atmosphere, of service.

My parents moved to Vermont with my sisters before I was born, because they wanted to raise their family in a safe, small town.  At the time, supporting a family of five in rural VT could be pretty tough.  Taking the family out for pizza was not a common thing, and to me, it was a big deal.  We didn’t have fast food joints, and even if we did, my mother would not have wanted to take us there.  Pizza was the happy medium. It was a quick affordable meal that still maintained some nutritional value.  Yes, she always advocated for a little Greek salad with the slices.

My notion of pizza has always been attached to a red and black tile floor, wooden chairs scraping against that floor and soda pop in a wax paper cup.  I remember the Italian words floating out from the kitchen, and the pretty dark haired woman running the register and shouting back to the men in their tomato splattered aprons. The lights always hung low and bright over the booths with the red vinyl seats that we vied for.  We often lifted and tilted our slice of pizza to let the grease drip off of it, onto the bent and blackened metal tray.  At the end of the meal, I’d sit and shuffle the ice in my cup, crunching on the pieces, to get the last little bit of cold sweetness left. The experience always felt a little raw and when I think back on it, it was a simple joy. At that age, my expectations of a special meal were linked only to a change in environment and food that was less well-balanced, and not home-cooked. It was a real treat. 

I stopped craving pizza in my teens. Not even a boyfriend with an addiction to all things pizza could revive it.  Bob Marshall himself further hindered the possibility of the craving during our stint of working together. He produced countless sheet pans of Le Petit Sourdough Baguette pizza and responded to “What’s for dinner?” with a gleeful “Stouffer’s French Bread Pizza!” In fact, sometimes I’d think, “Pizza again?  You people are insane.” It really pissed me off. 

Then Bob and his wife Cindy became pregnant with their second child, and they decided it was time to find a way to make it work so that Cindy could be at home with the kids.  Bob had always wanted to open a place of his own and to use his creativity in that way.  With his apparent passion for food and his deeply inventive energy and demeanor, I didn’t even think to flinch when he told us that he was going to open up in the location of an old “organic” pizza place that had gone out of business (and for good reason).

Hence, a year and a half ago, Bob Marshall’s Biga Pizza opened. 

There are a lot of folks in this community who know Bob, whether as the drummer in Volumen, or the dude walking in the parade with the flagship kids, among other things.  But even if you don’t know him outside of Biga, you probably sense that he is a family man, and a community man.  The pictures of his little girls nestled on the counter top, among the pile of green, golden orange and speckled squash probably give him away, as does the fact that he proudly uses Montana Flour and grains from Ft. Benton and that Biga Pizza is Clark Fork Organics’ biggest client. 

But his expression of family and community runs deeper into the layers of the restaurant. Cindy created the sublime paintings on the wall.  Defining touches were provided by friends: the deep hued curtains that take the edges off the big front windows were made by Brandy Gillespie, the logo created by Chris Fairbanks, the subtle clean lines of the woodwork shaped by Martin McCain, and the sign flashed to life through the hands of Ian Greenwood.  And the chairs, Bob and his mom salvaged and upholstered them together.  Bob wrote all the recipes on the menu, and while he makes the dough after closing every night, he thinks of the next special, based on what local ingredients are available to him. This, he claims, keeps him engaged in the seasons, making the menu fit with winter and spring, summer and fall. 

“What’s really important in (this) business is not only to support my family, but my community. I believe in this town—the willingness of the citizens to inspire and help each other.  It brings me pleasure to be an active participant in the art, music, and culture.” But it is the food that brings it together in so many ways, not the least being the basic fact that his family eats what his customers eat. 

The “bonus” for him, is that the food is delicious and people appreciate it.  You may in fact be one of his customer’s who by now orders the special pizza and salad without even asking what it is.  You trust that it is a delicious combination such as Montana spare ribs braised overnight, persimmon chutney, and herbed goat cheese. But since Bob describes the specials as a “one way street,” chances are, you won’t see that particular combo again.  I am partial to the winter squash pizza with Ricotta cheese and the Panzanilla salad (which may have gotten its name from the fact that its size is sufficient for feeding Godzilla).

Biga appears to present an ideal mix of innovative, contemporary and ever-changing local food with a few key elements of consistency.  The name itself refers to the method of bread making that uses a natural fermentation process and the dough is a result of that process and Bob’s nightly ritual. “The dough is the foundation of my business, if it’s not right, the day isn’t right.  It’s really important.”

And then there’s the fact that he’s hired no manager, because he prefers to do it all.  I see his eyes flash when he describes his Flathead Cherry Chutney with Homemade spicy sausage from Montana pork shoulder, and smoked gouda. When he talks about using organic and non-GMO products, his palms open and press emphatically into the surface of the table we are sitting at. I understand his notion of teamwork even more deeply when he talks about the benefits of having an exhibition kitchen in terms of being able to help the servers out through observation and timing of courses. 

He is earnest in his endeavor to create food that the “people can rally around” and firmly believes that Missoula was ready for this different, adventurous style of pizza. He takes care to mention that people love his salads as well, made always with a base of organic greens.  He tells me how proud he is of his servers who work in a fast paced environment with limited seating.  He also asks me how they are doing, because service is very important to him.

There is rarely an occasion when I step through the glass door and am not snuggled in against at least two other parties waiting for a table. I’ve always encountered a smiling and courteous face when entering Biga, even if there is no seat in sight.  People wait, willingly. I anxiously await the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.  I take a breath and in the air find some element of the family pizza adventures of my past. Perhaps it’s the knowledge that Bob cares about the food that he serves as much as my mother cared about the food that we ate.  But he’s gone a step further than the old pizzeria of my memory.  He strives to create an “experience to match the food.”

Bob reaches across to the vase next to me and pulls out a wilted Gerbera.  “I am seeing what my mom sees—so many things that go into a customer’s experiences. I try to look at those things—(those) subtle nuances.” He’ll give you gourmet pizza and a glass for your water, not a plastic cup.  And he’ll tell you that what makes it for him is when his customer’s tell him it’s the best pizza they’ve had.  “All those things add up and it’s where I want to go.”

Where I want to go is to Biga Pizza and I didn’t tell him that he’s gotten me craving pizza again. If I ate it as much as I wanted to, I’d end up too Biga for my britches.

In July of 2008, look for Bob and his sister Alex with her hand-crafted tableware in Martha Stewart’s Blueprint magazine: “A family garden party.” But until then, whenever you are craving pizza or a great salad, just check out the menu and specials on Bigapizza.com.