It sounds straight out of the Fried-Starbucks-and-Twinkies Minnesota State Fair creations, or some wow-factor listicle mentioning crazy culinary ideas that your boss catches you reading: mac 'n’ cheese pizza.

I just caught Pablo Sandoval’s attention. Carb on carb. Cheesy excess. Doctor’s worst nightmare? Total schwasted college drunk food? Sounds like it.

Nope. Not this version. In fact, it’s a thoughtfully composed smart and easy to share appetizer that is miles away from gluttony. I’m not saying it’s as virtuous as quinoa or cold-pressed beet juice, but this isn’t some Guy Fieri stunt.

Jamber in SoMa’s regular mac 'n’ cheese has to be considered one of the city’s finest; its lone listed ingredient is “yes.” Anytime you step into the three-year-old wine “pub," you’re bound to find diners of all ages and backgrounds spooning into the overstuffed ramekin like it’s an ice cream sundae. Writing about the mac 'n’ cheese for another publication, co-owner Jess Voss told me once that little unicorns live in the shell pasta. I don’t know about that, but there is a captivating savory edge to the cheese, an unstoppable combination of cheddar, bleu, and parmesan. 

It turns out the mac 'n’ cheese pizza ($12) is more of a thin, pita-like flatbread or a "piadini" that may be topped with a salad at a fast casual venue. The shell shaped pasta Jamber uses isn’t even macaroni but that is for the better because the tiny contours of each concave shell nicely hold either nuggets of bleu cheese or pockets of the three-cheese coating blend. 

Clearly someone in the kitchen loves sriracha. (I don’t mind but spice-averse palates will.) Then there are arugula and bleu cheese, that seemingly woebegone, dreadfully tired California salad duo. They find new life here, partly from the sriracha, and partly from the quarter pound or so of caramelized onions thrown on top (can’t get enough of them because as my father would always tell me when I was young, they’re just like candy. But healthier and better than candy!).

Finally, a cheesy ale sauce based on the Rustic Horizon Red Ale by Twisted Manzanita Brewing Co. near San Diego provides a rugged dimension à la a soupy Welsh rarebit’s cheddar sauce. The pasta topping isn’t particularly cheesy, a blessing in disguise because if it did, it would pull attention away from all of these complimentary ingredients. The dominant cheese is that razor-sharp buzz of bleu, blowing the wall down with the smallest of cubes.

On that note, where are the purely just mac 'n’ bleu cheeses in this town? This is the closest I’ve found.

A dab of cheesy ale sauce from the soft-pretzel snack can work wonders in applying the clincher to the pizza. Don’t add much because as I mentioned before, too much cheese covers everything. Just alternate between a little dip of the pizza in the sauce and bites of pizza on its own. Brush a little salt off and this pretzel might just be the leader of the city now that St. Vincent discontinued its version after a chef change last year.

Granted, mac 'n' cheese pizza isn't the greatest invention of all time, but it’s a winner, and it shows some kitchen brains and execution. After all, this is a wine pub.

Jamber Wine Pub, 858 Folsom, 415-273-9192.