DE Pizza Review: Dough Bar
Rating:
Final Composite Score: 5 out of 8 slices (rounded down from 5.25 average)
[Her: 4.5 out of 8 slices]
[Him: 6 out of 8 slices]
Read the full "dialogue review" below these real-time pictures of your reviewers' pizzas.
Him:
This is our review of Dough Bar in Milton.
Let me start by saying that the setting is lovely. The restaurant sits beside a pond with a view of the water. The place is nicely appointed. It looks good, feels comfortable, and had classic rock playing gently in the background.
The service was excellent—friendly, welcoming, and efficient. The food came out quickly. So before we even get to the pizza, almost everything surrounding the pizza was very good.
Her:
I agree completely.
The setting was warm and comfortable, the staff was lovely, and our waitress actually ran after me with the sunglasses I had left behind on our table.
There were also a lot of regulars in the restaurant. You could tell that many of the customers knew the staff and that the staff knew them. It felt like a real neighborhood place—the kind of restaurant people return to again and again.
Him:
So the atmosphere was good, the service was good, and the sunglasses were rescued.
Now we can talk about the pizza.
We ordered two pies: a plain cheese pizza and a white pizza with ricotta and pesto, which our waitress recommended when we were having trouble deciding.
We had originally planned to order the vegetable pizza, but they had run out of mushrooms.
Her:
Let's note that's a little unusual for a pizza restaurant.
Him:
A little surprising, yes.
They explained that Dough Bar is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. We visited on a Sunday night, and they had already used the last of their fresh mushrooms. Presumably, the next delivery would not arrive until they reopened.
It would have been interesting to try the vegetable pizza, but it is hard to hold the use of fresh mushrooms against them.
Her:
I suppose.
Although “pizza restaurant without mushrooms” still feels like an odd sentence.
Her:
I started with the cheese pizza, and I knew immediately that you were going to like the sauce.
Him:
Why?
Her:
Because it was extremely sweet. Maybe too sweet for me.
It was very tomato-forward, but the sweetness dominated everything else. All I could really taste was sweet tomato sauce.
Him:
You make it sound like it should have been served in a cone.
Her:
Honestly, you probably could have licked it off a cone.
Him:
That sounds much sweeter than I experienced it.
Her:
It was sweet.
The cheese, though, was good. It seemed like real mozzarella. It had stretch, it had pull, and it tasted good.
The crust was basically the same on both pizzas. I suspect it is probably the same on every pizza they serve. At this point in the project, I think I may be developing the ability to identify pizza dough suppliers by taste.
Him:
That is either impressive or concerning.
Her:
Possibly both. This crust tasted very similar to crusts we have had at several other restaurants. It was uniform—in shape, texture, and flavor.
I even asked the waitress whether they sell their dough. That is not as strange a question as it sounds. Plenty of pizzerias sell dough, and we have bought dough from pizza restaurants before.
She said they do not sell it, even though people ask. That does not prove anything about whether they make the dough in-house. This is not an exact science. But the uniformity of the crust, combined with the familiar texture and flavor, made it feel mass-produced to me.
Him:
Pizza forensics.
Her:
It's a thing, Mr. Pizza Engineer.
The crust was fine. It had salt, which already puts it ahead of far too many crusts we have eaten during this project. But it needed individuality. It did not taste homemade or distinctive. It did not taste like something that belonged specifically to Dough Bar.
And I will point out that the restaurant is called Dough Bar.
Him:
Yes. If “dough” is in the name, the dough should probably be one of the main attractions.
Her:
That is exactly my point.
Him:
The dough should be setting the bar.
See what I did there?
Her:
No. I'm immune to Dad jokes.
The second pizza was the white pizza with ricotta and pesto. I actually thought that one was pretty good.
The contrast between the salty, garlicky pesto pizza and the extremely sweet cheese pizza worked well. I kept going back and forth between the two.
The ricotta was creamy and tasted fresh. The mozzarella was good, and the pesto had real flavor. That pizza was much more interesting.
Him:
I agree.
The pesto had a nice garlicky flavor without being overwhelming. There was plenty of olive oil, but it tasted like actual olive oil rather than generic pizza grease.
The ricotta was creamy, and the mozzarella again seemed like real mozzarella. It had pull, a good creamy flavor, and enough salt to taste like cheese.
It was a well-balanced white pizza.
Now, I liked the cheese pizza more than you did.
The sauce was definitely sweet, but that is the kind of sauce I tend to favor. It reminded me of a New York–New Jersey-style pizza sauce. I thought it had real tomato flavor. It complemented the mozzarella nicely.
It was a good, solid cheese pizza. Not outstanding. But good.
I agree with you about the crust. It had enough flavor to beat out some of the largely flavorless crusts we have encountered elsewhere. But it did not have that down-home, homemade quality.
That is difficult to define, but you know it when you taste it. Homemade dough has quirks. It has character. It tastes like a human being made it in that restaurant some time that day. It didn't come out of a bag or a can.
This crust tasted like a crust you can get at any restaurant.
Her:
My sentiment exactly. There is a difference between food that tastes homemade and food that simply tastes professionally produced or manufactured.
Not every restaurant has the time or the staff to make its own dough. But again...
It is called Dough Bar. Dough. Bar.
Him:
We should also mention the Caesar salad.
Her:
Very garlicky.
Him:
Extremely garlicky. I enjoyed it, but it may have affected how we tasted the pizza afterward.
Her:
I can still taste the garlic now.
Him:
So it was not a shy Caesar salad.
On the whole, I enjoyed the meal. I probably could have kept eating until there was a serious medical issue. We were also extremely hungry when we arrived, which may have helped.
Her:
The salad probably prevented an emergency or a major embarrassment.
Him:
Very likely.
My overall reaction to Dough Bar is that it is a pleasant place.
It is comfortable. It is welcoming. It is the kind of place where you could sit for a while, have dinner, listen to music, look out at the pond, and enjoy yourself.
The pizza is good, not great. It is clearly better than the some of the disappointingly mediocre—or worse—pizzas we have eaten during this project. But it is not at the level of the best places we have reviewed.
It is not Touch of Italy. It is not Dalmata Italiano. It is not Ava’s. It is not Henlopen Pizza Kitchen.
But it is better than a number of the places we have visited. Readers should consult the reviews to figure out which ones.
Her:
The experience definitely helps the pizza.
Him:
Absolutely. They run a good restaurant in a nice location.
Her:
I think that is exactly right.
Him:
Alright. Time for scores.
As always, one slice means, “Please stop selling pizza and open a plumbing store.”
Eight slices means, “we are moving in; this restaurant is now our permanent home.”
What are you giving Dough Bar?
Her:
Four and a half.
Him:
Really? That is much lower than I expected from you.
Her:
I was thinking about a five or five and a half. But I am going with four and a half.
Him:
I am giving Dough Bar a six. I considered five and a half, but I think it is better than the places I have scored at five.
Her:
You gave Pie a five.
Him:
I did. And Dough Bar is better than Pie. So I am sticking with six.
Her:
You cannot be right all the time.
Him:
No. But I am right this time. And, generally speaking, most other times too.
So, Dough Bar lands slightly above five out of eight slices.
A warm neighborhood restaurant with excellent service, a lovely setting, good mozzarella, a very good pesto-and-ricotta pizza, and a cheese pizza with a sauce sweet enough to inspire debate.
The dough itself? Adequate. But for a restaurant called Dough Bar, and really any pizza restaurant, we want the bar set higher.
And that is our review of Dough Bar in Milton, Delaware.
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