It was a telling cultural moment when one of Joe Millionaire's suit-resses rejected the lunk of burning love, asking with visible scorn, "Who doesn't eat goat cheese?"

Joe wouldn't have to face goat cheese on the pizza at Top Tomato -- just buffalo mozzarella, bleu cheese and/or feta. Walnut Street's new eatery marries the spare-no-ingredient approach of newfangled brick-oven joints with the familiar comfort of Philly's ubiquitous slice-and-sub shops.

Inside, exposed brick walls and a brushed steel countertop are complemented by brightly sponge-painted colors and Alessi-inspired lighting fixtures. I've found that wherever there is a new concept, it usually entails an espresso machine. Indeed, Top Tomato's coffee bar serves La Colombe, while a glass case illuminates Italian sweets like profiteroles and tiramisu.

Unfold the menu and you'll see sandwich fillers like portobello mushrooms marinated in balsamic vinaigrette. Salads run the gamut from predictable (grilled chicken Caesar) to inventive (chicken zinger with spicy sauce and bleu cheese).

Pizza comes in 30 different pre-programmed varieties. Pies can also, of course, be customized. And for those who have different geometrical preferences, Top Tomato offers a square Sicilian pie with or without cheese.

Eschewing the more challenging choices (like the fajita chicken pizza and the cowboy steak pizza with beef, bacon, barbecue sauce and American cheese), we sampled the Mediterranean, topped with spinach, feta, garlic, mozzarella and olive oil. Instead of a thick slathering of sugar-laden sauce, the pizza respected its Neapolitan origins with measured amounts of basil-marinated tomatoes. The same approach is taken on the four seasons, where those temperate tomatoes are tucked between tangy artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers and thin, lightly breaded squares of eggplant.

Two tomato-less pies brought mixed results. The Genovese, with chicken, pesto and mozzarella, was disappointing. The chicken was rubbery and dry and the pesto, usually a gangbuster flavor, barely registered. But the Atlantis, with its garlicky bits of clam and shrimp and ribbons of roasted pepper in melted cheese, was entirely pleasing.

For its cheery atmosphere, its contributions to the pizzeria model and not least importantly, its handling of its namesake fruit, Top Tomato is a welcome addition to Walnut Street. I dare conjecture even Evan Marriott would agree.