Si Nonna has just made its grand entry into Hyderabad, opening two outlets in Gachibowli and Jubilee Hills,bringing authentic Neapolitan sourdough pizza to the city’s food lovers.
What sets Si Nonna apart is its devotion to natural mother-dough fermentation, eschewing artificial yeast to create a crust that’s airy, chewy, and richly flavored.Their signature pizzas reflect this commitment, combining classic Italian recipes with thoughtfully selected toppings: from the delicate simplicity of the Margherita to more adventurous creations like truffle-infused mushroom or blue-cheese-and-chicken pepperoni. Every bite captures the warmth and tradition of Italy, handcrafted with precision and passion in Hyderabad.
Si Nonna is also a great place for kids who could learn some history about pizza while also getting hands-on training in the making of pizza.
Walk into Si Nonna and the first thing you notice is the warmth—not just from the ovens, but from the philosophy behind the place. “Every great pizza begins long before the toppings,” says head chef Massimo Verzini, as he talks about the one ingredient that holds the restaurant together: the mother dough.
His journey with sourdough didn’t begin in a kitchen, but through years of travelling across Italy, tasting, learning, questioning, and absorbing. “Italy taught me that simplicity is the strongest flavour. You don’t hide behind anything,” he says. From Naples to small countryside villages, he spent years discovering how each region treats the same ingredients differently—and how those differences create entire food cultures.
One memory continues to shape him: eating pizza in Naples, where a woman handed him something made not just with technique, but with devotion. “That was the moment I understood what mother dough really means,” he recalls. “It’s not a recipe. It’s a life you keep alive.”
Back in India, that philosophy came with him. But adapting true Italian taste to Indian conditions—climate, water, humidity, even people’s expectations—was a lesson of its own. “It took so many trials,” he says. “Flour behaves differently here. Fermentation has its own personality. You can’t force sourdough. You have to listen to it.”
The ovens became another story. He travelled across India just tasting pizzas to understand what people liked, didn’t like, and were ready for. One trip led him to biryani in Hyderabad—an unexpected but important revelation. “Food here has memories. There’s history in the spice, in the rice, in the technique. If you are not humble, India will teach you to be.”
That humility shaped Si Nonna. Instead of forcing a foreign aesthetic, he built a place rooted in Italian authenticity but designed with Indian instincts in mind. He talks about the dough as if it’s a living companion. “A good mother dough smells like confidence. If it smells confused, you have done something wrong.”
Every element at the pizzeria reflects this mix of precision and playfulness. The long fermentation. The specific hydration. The flour that took months to finalize. The way the oven heat is managed to give each pizza that signature Neapolitan lift at Si Nonna. “You can taste when the dough is happy,” he says.
When discussing toppings, he becomes protective—almost parental. “In Italy, toppings are not decoration. They each have a reason. If you put basil, it’s because the dish needs basil. Not because the plate looks empty.” At Si Nonna, he keeps this rule sacred. No overloading. No unnecessary fusion. Just clean flavours, confident seasoning, and honest craftsmanship.
Yet, he also understands the Indian diner intimately. “People here love bold flavours, but they also appreciate balance. It’s not about making food less Indian or more Italian. It’s about letting good taste speak.”
The conversation drifts to heat-a topic that makes him smile. He talks about spice in Indian cuisine the way one might talk about architecture: structure, layering, purpose. “You cannot throw heat at the palate. You build it.” That philosophy finds its way into Si Nonna’s signature offerings, where the spice is gentle, intentional, and tied to Italy’s own love for pepper and herbs.
Ask him what Si Nonna ultimately stands for, and he doesn’t hesitate: “It’s a feeling. You come here to taste care. Love. History. A little mischief. And a dough that’s alive.”
At its heart, Si Nonna is not just a restaurant—it’s a tribute to a grandmother’s kitchen in Italy, a journey across continents, and a craft that refuses to be rushed. A slice of Naples, shaped by India, baked with intention.
And it all begins with that mother dough.
Dining and Cooking