A Review of Burrata, in Eastchester SHORTLY before Burrata opened in February, with brown paper still covering the windows, stylish block letters fixed to its handsome facade announced the coming of a restaurant named Hearth (smaller letters below promised "wood-fired pizza"). With all systems ready to go, the owner, Chas Anderson, met with a cease-and-desist letter from a Manhattan restaurateur who already had rights to the name "Hearth" - hence the mellifluous last-minute christening. Since it is also the name of a fresh, creamy cow's-milk cheese currently en vogue, "Burrata" suggests both trend and tradition, an apt sort of shorthand for what Mr. Anderson is up to. Modern, youthful and artisanally correct, Burrata joins a breed of easygoing, well-groomed pizzerias and trattorias that are replacing red-sauce stalwarts in the suburbs. Burrata sits squarely on a busy intersection in Eastchester. Inside, a glittering gold-tiled pizza oven is the star. The very busy pizza chef wears a white jacket and red kerchief, a get-up that might be taken for caricature if it weren't so cute. There can be a lot of commotion; one night, a toddler banged his cup on the table for a full minute before his father took it away from him. Blazing away at 850 degrees, the oven produces 12-inch Neapolitan-style pizzas with puffy crusts, crisp bottoms and distinctive charring in all the right places. A cockle pizza, recommended by our highly pierced, well-informed waiter, came scattered with tiny, fragrant clams in their shells, tender mozzarella and flecks of fresh parsley. A margherita - the standard by which all pizzas are measured - was a model of proportion. And the parigi, or Parisian, pizza, described by our waiter as "French onion soup on a pizza," was a big hit, with its cognac-laced onions, Gruyère, salty pancetta and fresh thyme leaves. Mr. Anderson, who studied at the French Culinary Institute in Manhattan and at Alma, a culinary academy near Parma, is earnest in his efforts to make pizza as it is made in the old neighborhoods of Naples. His Ferrara oven was imported from Naples, as is his finely milled, double-zero flour, which aids in making a soft, silky dough. His pizza crust - the holy grail of pizza geeks - has a tender, springy sponge and a brittle shell. In addition to pizza, Burrata offers a nicely edited menu of antipasti, insalate, contorni and dolci. You cannot do better than to start with burrata, a beautiful fresh cheese that is basically a supple purse of mozzarella filled with a blend of salted cream and mozzarella shreds. Once flown in daily from Apulia, Italy, wrapped in asphodel fronds, burrata is now made in the United States. The restaurant gets its supply from Maple Brook Fine Cheese, in Vermont, where it is made by Domenico Marchitella, a native Puglian. A simple salad of burrata with colorful heirloom cherry tomatoes - red, bright green and purple - was a good showcase for the cheese. We also liked the crema di burrata, in which the cream and curds were whipped, sprinkled with sea salt and cracked black pepper and drizzled with extra virgin olive oil. The cold, tough crostini that came with the latter were a puzzlement; with a hot oven just feet away, we had to wonder why the cooks couldn't make toast. Our waiter happily brought extra plates so we could share antipasti; most notable were fat, sweet Cerignola olives; supple octopus with red onion, parsley and potatoes; and wood-roasted red and gold beets with chopped pistachios. Caponata lacked richness and depth (one guest thought it tasted too much of canned tomatoes), and fried calamari, first marinated in buttermilk, could have been crispier. A frisée salad, formed with a ring mold, was beautiful to behold but undone by a dull, watery egg. A more flavorful egg might also have rescued the "sunny" pizza, which relied on a soft-cooked egg to carry the show. One night when we visited, Burrata was offering Nutella ravioli as a dessert special - a prospect we found too rich to consider after so many slices of pizza (while noting that the Nutella craze is still alive and well). We chose instead a light, milky panna cotta with blood oranges and a few drops of sweet balsamic vinegar; a lovely, not-too-sweet cannolo; and an honorable version of chocolate lava cake that had guests scrambling for their spoons. Burrata 425 White Plains Road Eastchester (914) 337-3700 burratapizza.com THE SPACE Handsome, open restaurant in shades of taupe and cream, with a golden wood-burning pizza oven. Frosted glass, copper pots and pans, and antique olive oil tins add charm. Abundant hard surfaces, low ceiling and a dearth of upholstery contribute to poor acoustics. We liked dining on comfortable perches at the long, wide bar. THE CROWD A convivial crowd of all ages, with families dining early (highchairs are available). Service is welcoming, responsive and efficient. Short, smart, list of Italian wines by the glass, quartino and bottle; try the fragrant, bubbly Sorelle Casa secco rosé ($12 per glass); the brisk 2010 Cantina del Taburno falanghina ($13 per quartino); and the fruity 2008 Fattoria di Lucignano Chianti ($12 per quartino). From a good selection of Italian bottled beers, we liked the golden Menebrea Bionda ($6). THE BILL Pizzas, sized for individuals, are $10 to $18; cured meats, cheeses and antipasti, $6 to $10; salads, $8 to $14; desserts, $6 to $8. Special prix fixe lunch menu is $10. WHAT WE LIKED Cerignola olives marinated with rosemary and thyme, crema di burrata, burrata with heirloom cherry tomatoes, octopus with potatoes, wood-roasted beets with pistachios, cockle pizza, parigi pizza, margherita pizza, panna cotta with blood oranges, cannolo, chocolate lava cake. IF YOU GO Reservations taken only for tables of six or more. Lunch: daily, noon to 3 p.m. Dinner: Monday through Thursday, 5 to 9 p.m., Friday and Saturday, 5 to 10 p.m., Sunday, 5 to 8 p.m. Parking in metered municipal lots behind the Eastchester Public Library, on White Plains Road, and on Fischer Avenue, just west of White Plains Road.