How to have a Perfect Philly Day, according to pizza master Joe Beddia

After more than a decade, Joe Beddia isn’t consumed by pizza thoughts.

Beddia, 48, opened the first version of his eponymous pizza shop on Girard Avenue in Fishtown in 2013. The shop was famous for its rules — cash only, no calling ahead, and no slices — but also for Beddia’s dedication to making the shop’s 40 daily pies himself. His attention to detail worked: In 2015 Bon Appétit called Beddia’s pies the “Best Pizza in America," generating wrap-around-the block lines and the kind of fanaticism this city typically reserves for sports teams and a good parking spot.

That same adoration followed Beddia to Pizzeria Beddia 2.0, his airy 140-seat pizza restaurant on North Lee Street known for simplistic yet-excellent pies and a $550 a night private hoagie “omakase” room that acolytes say is worth every bit of the money. Having a staff has let more people try Beddia’s pies. It’s also let him try other things, including taking his talents to London to open a bar.

“I feel like more of a general creative person than, like, a pizza person,” Beddia told The Inquirer. “It was more about the challenge of figuring something out” and doing it well.

Now, Beddia can tend to his hobbies: long walks around Philly from his Old City condo, art collecting, wine education. In September, Beddia will lead a weeklong tour around the vineyards of Sicily — his ancestral homeland — with luxury travel company Modern Adventure. (The trip costs $9,700, though you can sop up Beddia’s wine knowledge for far cheaper at the restaurant’s occasional one-night-only tasting camps.)

His biggest challenge, Beddia said, was stepping on as a partner at Picnic, the catch-all wine shop-slash-restaurant from Defined Hospitality, the group whose portfolio also includes Kalaya, Suraya, and — yes — Pizzeria Beddia. Working with others is not Beddia’s strong suit.

“I don’t love to collaborate. I think if you have an idea and want to see it through, it’s harder with partners,” he said. “But this was good. I went from wanting to control everything to getting an on opportunity to learn from others.”

Still, Beddia gets obsessive about preserving the sanctity of pies. When Pizzeria Beddia earned one of Philly’s first Bib Gourmands for exceptional inexpensive food from the Michelin Guide in November, it was a reminder to stay the course. Beddia still uses the same pizza dough recipe he honed in his tiny takeout only shop on Girard. He doesn’t plan to change it.

“I feel the same as when I didn’t have [the Bib], honestly,” Beddia said. “It’s just about staying great at the basic stuff we do.”

So, what does a perfect Philly day look like for Beddia? It starts with measuring pizza dough and then promptly walking to get a Bloody Mary.

I wake up next to my wife Caroline and the two stuffed dogs she’s kept with her since childhood named Shrimp and Puppybear. I’d like to think I’m the kind of person who starts their day by meditating, but never when I wake up this early. It’s usually up and out the door.

From there, I stop at Thank You, Thank You [in Old City]. I like them because the staff knows their coffee; a lot of shops are tied to one roaster, whereas they highlight beans from all over the world. My favorite thing to order is the One and One. It’s a double shot of espresso, but part of it is served straight and the other goes into a macchiato.

Lately I’ve been going into Pizzeria Beddia in the morning to weigh the dough and shape it for the pizzas, focaccia, and hoagie rolls. It’s a two hour job. There’s no one in the restaurant, and I’ve always liked working the dough, so I find it deeply calming.

We take big bins of dough that were prepped yesterday, dump them on the flour counter, cut it, weight it out, and then shape it. For the pizzas, each dough ball needs to be exactly 440 grams and we need to prep 250 of them for a busy night.

It’s funny. I’m the opposite of a workaholic — I’d actually call myself lazy, but this is the one part of the job that never gets old.

After stopping home for a hot shower, I’m walking to Fairmount for breakfast at Little Pete’s.

I love to take long walks because they’re such a nice way to see the city. Plus, being in a car is absolutely maddening here. Normally, I don’t listen to anything, but if I do, lately it’s been music by this Scottish bagpipist named Brighade Chaimbeus. It sounds serene.

At Little Pete’s, I’m ordering a Bloody Mary and a diner breakfast platter with scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries, and rye toast. You have to ask for your home fries well done for them to come out right, but Little Pete’s is such a perfect Philadelphia institution that I don’t care. You’ll see doctors sitting next to police sitting next to retirees, and everyone gets along.

I’m going to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. There’s this little room there that’s filled with Shaker furniture. It’s all so simple looking, but you can tell the furniture is beautifully made. I also love all the Pennsylvania Dutch quilts and chests because they remind me of Lancaster, where I grew up.

My uncle was a furniture collector, so I grew up around art in a way. I also like to collect art myself from self-taught artists — I own about 20 pieces — though I’ve been slowing down lately to save money.

Next, I’m walking over to a.kitchen to get a gem salad with a side of roast chicken for lunch. I dream about that salad. It has a very light buttermilk dressing and a lot of herbs, plus the chicken is always cooked perfectly. They roast it, but it appears fried to order so the skin gets a little crispy.

While I eat, I like to cycle through the New York Times games — the mini [crossword], Spelling Bee, and Wordle. I’m kind of terrible, but my wife can finish the mini, get the pangram in the Spelling Bee, and solve the Wordle in about a minute … She’s kind of better than me at everything.

Here I am walking back home to Old City. On the way, I like to stop into Fleisher//Ollman Gallery I bought a couple of my favorite art pieces here. They have a really good mix of classically-trained big artists, but also more local artists who are self taught and kind of outsider-y.

The coolest thing they have are these little wire sculptures [from the Philadelphia Wireman]. The story goes that the artist abandoned them in a dumpster off South Street in the late 1970s. They look kind of like trash, but the sculptures cost thousands of dollars. I have a couple.

I’m taking my wife and two friends to Andiario out in West Chester. It’s my favorite restaurant as of late. There’s a set menu, but [chef Anthony Andiario] isn’t precious about it — it’s just all really well-cooked and honest food. There’s always a pasta, a meat of sort, vegetables, and maybe a fish, but I care most about the bread.

The bread that they’re baking is the best in the area by a longshot. It comes from the bakery they own [in downtown West Chester] called La Baguette Magique, and it’s crusty sourdough. They serve it with a cultured butter that tastes a little cheesy and salty. It’s so good.

This is so embarrassing, but my wife and I like to wind down by playing Super Mario Party Jamboree on our Nintendo Switch. It’s like a board game. I typically play Mario and she typically plays Yoshi. It’s probably about 50/50 in terms of who wins, but again, my wife is kind of better than me at everything.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.