Four Brooklyn Pizzerias

Four Slices of Brooklyn - New York City Entry #8

(This wonderful day was shared with Pigmon, Trixie-Pea, and three of their guests. I trust that they will add their comments and their phots, and when I figure out my digital camera, so may I).

Trekking through Brooklyn, searching for the perfect slice, from ethnic Midwood in central Brooklyn to Brooklyn Heights, viewing Lower Manhattan, is to be reminded of the diversity of humble pizza. Bread, tomato, and cheese - the stuff of life. It should be simple, but so many choices must be made.

In New York City, pizza is typically heated by coal, and so it was at our choices [correction: Di Fara uses a gas oven]: Di Fara (in Midwood), Peperoncino (in Park Slope), Caserta Vecchia (in Boerum Hill) and Grimaldi's (near Brooklyn Heights). If pizza is known by their crust, these are all within the broad range of New York style pizza, having neither the cake-crust or crispy cracker-crust found in Chicago. Of these four, Di Fara, and not the award-winning Grimaldi's, was the one that brought me to the doorstep of my childhood pizza memories.

For those who label themselves "chowists" searching for a fantasy of perfect authenticity and uncorrupted artisans, Di Fara is the place. Chowhound's Jim Leff (who gives Di Fara's his highest rating) and Ed Levine of Pizza: A Slice of Heaven (who counts Domenico DeMarco as one of his "keepers of flame") should not be dismissed lightly. As Mr. DeMarco explained to us and to Ed Levine, he is "very proud of what he does." Let us lobby for a culinary heritage award.

When we arrived in the mostly silent area of Midwood on Saturday morning, an area labeled as "Kosher Brooklyn" by Myra Alperson, Di Fara was, like its neighbors, closed. Yet, as the 11:00 a.m. opening time, we could hear Mr. DeMarco puttering behind locked doors. Finally he took pity on us and let us in through the back, even before he was fully ready. He works alone, creating pizzas by hand, one at a time. He is an artist of the first rank.

Customers must have known of his schedule as we were the first diners for about fifteen minutes. Entering through the back might not be something that would be recommended for health inspectors, but the grease and dirt certainly added points for authenticity to the 1960s pizzeria in a neighborhood for which today a pizzeria might not be a natural foodstuff. I imagine that more than one once-devout teen violated kasherut laws, chewing Pieman DeMarco's pepperoni (Pepperoni can be made from beef, but that was not the case here). In the window boxes on Avenue J were his herbs - basil, rosemary, and oregano - that were to give their lives for these exemplary pies.

This was our first pizza of the morning, and we ordered a pizza straight up and one with pepperoni. What first impressed me was the quality of the ingredients. The tomato sauce (both fresh and canned) had a complexity that comes from a master's hand adding those herbs that create the synergy of a New York pizza. The sauce was sweet, but had the pungency of an oregano base. The cheeses - God's cheese (Mozzarella, Romano, and Parmesan) - were impeccably fresh, and blended with the tomato sauce to provide a pizza in which each bite contained a consistency of flavors. The edge crust was close to the Platonic ideal of a New York bread crust.

The single weakness was that the pizza seemed slightly undercooked. Not much, but enough to notice. The bottom was not burned or even singed, and the structure of the pizza allowed each slice to become immediately flaccid when raised to one's lips. The point of the slice pointed straight down. As we could see Mr. DeMarco checking the bottom of the pizza, possibly this was his style. But in my view an erect slice should only slowly become limp, cherishing its brief victory over gravity. (Pizza is a rare food whose imagined eroticism generously lends itself bisexual fantasies. Consumption can be doubly gratifying for amorous diners). Since New York pizza is a street food, not eaten, as in Naples with knife and fork, this disappointed. However, I found Di Fara the closest slice to my ideal, and had one been able, as at a reputable steakhouse, to return the pie for a touch more heat, it might have reached my ideal. Leaving I informed Mr. DeMarco that he is my hero and so he is.

Peperoncino in Park Slope is a different place: not a pizzeria, but restaurant, much attuned with its renovated neighbors. Brooklyn is the new home of an array of mid-priced restaurants for upper-middle class New Yorkers who find the newly elegant townhouse throughout the hills and slopes of northwestern Brooklyn satisfying their real estate yearnings (even pizza follows realty). Peperoncino aims at this market, despite the connection of the pieman with the owners of Caserta Vecchia and despite the claim that their ingredients were shipped from Napoli.

I found Peperoncino's the least successful pizzas of the day, each failing to entice me. We ordered a Margherita (tomato, fior di latte [a mozzarella-type soft cow's milk cheese], and basil), a Diavola (tomato, fior di latte, and spicy sausage), and a Pizza do'mare (tomato, calamari, mussels, clams, and shrimp). The tomato sauce was properly sweet but lacked complexity. I could taste no hint of basil, no fennel pungency in the sausage, and the shrimp was tough. Add the general soupiness of the sauce, creating a soggy crust (more characteristic of the Napoli style) and, despite the pleasant surroundings, these were not pies of my dreams.

A connection exists between Peperoncino's and Caserta Vecchia in Boerum Hill (the now-gentrified locale of Jonathan Lethem's magical realist account, Fortress of Solitude). The pieman's wife's grandmother (get that?) had been the piemaker at Caserta, Maddalena Carusone, according to Ed Levine she may have been the first female commercial pie'r. Caserta Vecchia had burned down in 2002, and the new establishment is rather spiffy, although not as elegant as Peperoncino's.

The pies at Caserta Vecchia were the first of the day that had a proper structure, holding gravity at bay. Unfortunately CV does not serve classic pizzas (tomato sauce and cheese), so we selected the Margherita (mozzarella, tomato sauce, and basil) and their Quattro Formaggi (Fior di Latte, Gorgonzola, Parmesan, and Fontina). The Gorgonzola provided a tang, providing the four cheeses with a rare pungency. The tomato sauce on the Margherita was, like that at Peperoncino's, a simple blend. More troubling was the crust seemed chewy. Although the structure of the pizza was fine, the crust seemed somewhat undercooked.

Finally we reached Grimaldi's, huddled modestly under the Brooklyn Bridge, perhaps the favorite pizzeria of New Yorkers. (In the 2005 Zagat's Di Fara, properly gets the nod, with the same rating as Babbo, yes!). Grimaldi's is not an old-time New York pizzeria, but a 1990 breakaway from East Harlem's Patsy's, where Patsy Grimaldi began working for his uncle in 1941 at age ten. Only in New York would half of a placemat serve as an account of the legal battles: the Brooklyn "Patsy's" lost, becoming "Grimaldi's." The hurt may still be felt in the desire of the piemen not to be photographed while working, a request that Mr. DeMarco had accepted happily.

While waits can be excruciating at Di Fara (although not for morning customers), Grimaldi's is a pizza factory. A specialized team produces these worthy pies. One man (and they are all men, when I were present) worked the ovens, a second added the tomato sauce, and a third placed the cheese. This is not artisinal work, but Fordism at its best.

In both structure and ingredients, Grimaldi's was superior. The crust was properly charred and deliciously bready, the tomato sauce was complex, and the mozzarella was smooth with a subtle and supple aftertaste. The pepperoni was not the superior spicy meat at Di Fara, but was good enough. My complaint with the Grimaldi pie may be judged in terms of my childish vision of what a pie should be. Grimaldi's does not produce a pie of consistent taste, but blotches of cheese and of tomato sauce. The pizza is a map of red and white shapes, a rather garish gifted Christmas tie. While the pizza held up better than that at Di Fara, the consistent profile of the Di Fara triangle provides the edge.

Four pizzerias, one guileless dish. When it comes to the stuff of life, men of the oven find as many ways to create memories as there are ways to live.

Di Fara
1424 Avenue J (at 15th Street)
Brooklyn (Midwood)
718-258-1367

Peperoncino
72 Fifth Avenue
Brooklyn (Park Slope)
718-638-4760

Caserta Vecchia
221 Smith Street
Brooklyn (Boerum Hill)
718-624-7549

Grimaldi's
19 Old Fulton Street
Brooklyn (near Brooklyn Heights)
718-858-4300

http://www.vealcheeks.blogspot.org

Am I envious. What a pizza experience! Next time I go to NYC, I think I might give this a try:

http://www.bknypizza.com/tour_information.html

Bill/SFNM

Unlike our recent Manhattan tour, which was about getting a sense of what New York’s great Neapolitan pizzerias were all about, our latest venture, a Brooklyn tour, was more a pursuit of the pizza culture of New York; everyone from the owners, the piemen, and the locals that frequent these neighborhood establishments. The fascinating theme for me throughout this adventure, though, was the absolute devotion to great pie making in every place we went, no matter how different their approaches and concepts to great pizza might have been. Seeking out this passion makes trips like this a cherished endeavor, worth its weight in gold.

A few weeks ago, Trixie and I happily made the hour trek by subway from Manhattan to Coney Island, the sight of one of New York’s great pizza treasures, the original Totonno’s. Open since 1924, this gem has been continually owned and operated by the same family. Its present pieman is Lawrence Ciminieri who is the great grandson of the founder, Anthony (Totonno) Pero. Pero worked for many years at Lombardi’s (America’s first pizzeria) before breaking off and heading to New York’s historic amusement playland.

Totonno’s is the classic neighborhood pizzeria; Locals coming in and out of the place constantly, anxiously awaiting their pies. Our waitress and her friend gave a kiss to the matron (most likely Ciminieri’s mother) as she left her shift. The two couples eating around us were having a conversation as though they knew each other for years. I loved the vibe of this place.



We ordered a sausage pizza and were planning on only doing a sampling since we had the big neighborhood tour the next day. The pizza was done in about 15 minutes. It had the exact, wonderful ingredients as the Manhattan pie: homemade fresh mozzarella and San Marzano tomatoes. The sausage, though homemade, was the weak link of the pie. It’s amazing, though, how you can have a less than desirable sausage, and still say this pizza ranks among the greatest pies anywhere. But mainly, it is Totonno’s crust that separates themselves from most other places. The execution is stellar as well. This is my idea of a great New York pizza parlor.





::

The following day, we met up with a small group of six, including GAF, at Di Fara’s, in the Midwood section of Brooklyn. Since Di Fara’s is a landmark and we expected a big Saturday crowd, Trix and I decided to be the first customers of the day. We arrived at around 10am, an hour before opening, only to see the legendary Domenico Demarco well into his preparatory morning rituals. While waiting the hour, we checked out the predominately orthodox Jewish neighborhood of Midwood during Sabbath, which meant that we were basically in a ghost town.

There was one thing that impressed me most of all throughout this trip. As Demarco showed us in through the kitchen, Gary threw massive praise his way about his renowned pizza stature. His response was “I take great pride in what I do” in his beautiful, thick Neapolitan accent Demarco is the pizza realm’s version of a monk. In an interview with the New York Time’s Jeff VanDam, Demarco says: “I eat once a day, after close. With wine. But I have one piece of pizza every day, to see if it comes out all right. Then, after I close, I sit down with my bottle of wine and eat….”



I loved how the locals would come in and ask about whether the pan pizza was ready yet. When he said “15 minutes”, you could visually see the pain in their faces. On the open window, he grows his fresh herbs.



It is quite apparent that this is a pie made by a master. Every element in his piemaking process is extremely well thought out. You sense that, in his mind, he created the ideal pizza many years ago and is just executing that perfection daily.


(Don't tell me that the young Demarco isn't dead ringer for our own Aaron Deacon!)

We ordered a pepperoni pizza of which Demarco uses an Italian aged parmesan, fresh mozzarella from Caserta (his hometown), a bit of Romano, wonderful sauce made from Salerno tomatoes, both homegrown and dried herbs, and then a sprinkle of olive oil over the finished product. The pepperoni was the finest I’ve ever tasted. The flavor of his pizza is unsurpassed virtually anywhere. The problem I had was its sloppiness in the inner third of the pizza. I’m not sure that New York pizza aficionados would consider this a problem, but I struggled to manage it. As far as the rest of the pie, it was bliss and heaven.

I consider myself quite fortunate to have experienced the world of Domenico Demarco. You should have to pay admission to be around an artisan like this.

::

Next on our tour was Peperoncino in the Park Slope area. This young restaurant has a beautiful round oven that wows you from the moment you walk in. The employees and operators were all young Neapolitans who took no time in informing us, early and often, that their pizza was the real deal and that it would be, no doubt, the best pizza we would ever eat. I enjoy passion like this, even when it is completely unfounded.



The group ordered 3 pies: the Diavolo (sausage), pizza do mare (seafood), and margherita. As usual, all the ingredients were fresh but the vibrancy of the overall pies was lackluster. There was a lot of uneaten pizza left over, which I think supports my impression. I don’t believe we finished even one of the three pizzas we ordered. I could make a case that everyone could have been getting full but this was only our second stop. Technically, not bad pies.



It’s not easy for me to give a less than enthusiastic opinion on a place where the people take immense pride in their product. Serious attempts at pizza making should never be taken lightly. However, if you’re following in the footsteps of giants, that being Totonno’s and Di Fara’s, you better be serving something more than just another pie if your claim is “best ever”.

::
Our next stop was Caserta Vecchia. This was a serious and stark environment compared to the previous places: extremely uninviting due to an aloof staff. If New York pizza establishments had a vibe like this, in general, it certainly wouldn’t warrant a tour. Luckily, they don’t.
We only ordered two of their pizzas, the margherita and quattro fromaggio, since most of the crowd were starting to feel the pain. The bright spot for me here was the prevalence of the gorgonzola in the quattro fromaggio. The overall balance of the cheeses (gorgonzola, fontina, parmesan, and fior de latte) was quite to my liking, although some might have thought that it was too busy on the palate. The crust was firmer than anything we had so far in the day but lacked any standout characteristics.The margherita was well constructed but was fairly unmemorable.



Don’t get me wrong; Caserta Vecchia knows how to make authentic Neapolitan pizza. What worries me, though, is that in 6 months or so, it will be nothing more than a faded memory, less because of the pizza than its lack of personality. Maybe if we went at a busier time, it would have been different. What are the chances of this being true? Not too good.

::

After Caserta Vecchia, we decided to take a pleasant walk through some of Brooklyn’s more upscale neighborhoods and along the East River with a splendid view of Manhattan, ultimately arriving at our final stop at the base of the Brooklyn Bridge, the famous Grimaldi’s. As the lines running outside would suggest, this pizzeria is a New York landmark. Often considered the finest pizza in all of New York, Grimaldi’s is a common destination for walkers from Manhattan who make the trek over the Bridge. Its location is ideal. However, if you’re looking for a neighborhood experience, skip this place outright. My sense is that after the immortal Patsy Grimaldi sold the pizzeria to Pattabe, Inc., whatever personality the place used to have, completely vanished. This is New York’s version of Chicago’s Pizzeria Uno.
It’s never a good thing when you respectfully and enthusiastically ask to take pictures of the oven and piemen and are rejected with impunity. Make no mistake about it, this is a business first and foremost; a pizza factory that is more concerned about processing customers at an efficient rate for maximum profit. The aesthetic side of their world definitely takes a back seat.



However, it would be completely unfair to not give them their due. We ordered a pepperoni pizza, whose magnificent structure and overall wonderful ingredients that should not be minimized. As Gary Fine correctly points out above, the pepperoni wasn’t up to Di Fara’s, but to say that it wasn’t good would be a stretch. Their crust was the best of the day. They unquestionably make splendid pizza. The question is whether the commercialism of this enterprise like this bothers you enough to just seek out another great pizzeria elsewhere.




What I learned from this trip was that New York has a lot of wonderful pizzerias. But what drives me to seek out great pizza has more to do with the people that make up that pizza culture, from the piemen to the owners and even the customers, than even the pizza itself. These places are neighborhood institutions, where people see these places as culinary treasures.

It's hard to do a snapshot tour like this, and really come away with any real sense of an individual pizzeria--or the technical merits of a pizza. But as we ate our way through Brooklyn, our hearts felt giddy with nostalgia--even though we had never been before. The overall sense of something old and familial seeped into the space between the crust and the toppings, and any ideas about hitting a place on an off day or hour--or ordering a pizza well-done, or w/ half cheese seemed whiny. Constructions of a pizza lover in a town that can't give you what you need.

::

And getting a chance to meet Demarco was an honor and a thrill. His warmth, humility and skills were mind blowing.

trixie-pea

Aw Jeez, yaw' killin' me wit dees pitchahs...

***

Pigmon, GAF:

Magnificent.

Mille grazie.

Antonius

Another few images of Dominick DeMarco





And the pizza:



Finally figured out Flickr!

Chicago pizza looks way better than that -a ll respects!

The dough is too fluffy, the cheese is too much and its not cooked enough on top. The pepperoni is too small and has curled!

Anyone else agree?

I love chicago style pizza, but that looks utterly fantastic.

Snark wrote:Chicago pizza looks way better than that -a ll respects!

Ahhhhhh, perfect, 3nd day of the new year and already a NY pizza vs Chicago pizza debate.

Me, I'm of the non exclusivity school, wherein it's possible to enjoy more than one variation of the same basic discipline.

Enjoy,
Gary 'Life is not mutually exclusive' Wiv

I paid a visit to Grimaldi's on my recent trip to New York. It was the only chance I had to stop for a classic NY pizza, and it was fantastic.


Grimaldi's (exterior)


Grimaldi's Pepperoni Pizza


Flour Delivery @ Grimaldi's

Grimaldi's Pizzeria‎
19 Old Fulton St
Brooklyn, NY 11201
(718) 858-4300
http://grimaldis.com‎

Excellent report! I have been to two of these places: Di Fara and Grimaldi's.

I thought that if it wasn't for the excessive olive oil on top of the Di Fara pizza, it would have been in my all-time top 5 list (Pepe's in New Haven, CT, is my #1). But the olive oil was just a bit too much.



As for Grimaldi's, the last time I went, it was disappointing--the pepperoni pizza I had was undercooked (the crust wasn't charred at all) and the sauce wasn't as good as I had remembered it being.



I'm planning on a couple of trips to NYC over the coming months and have a few Brooklyn pizza joints in mind if I happen to have a chance to head across the river. They are: Totonno's in Coney Island, Lucali in Carroll Gardens, Fascati in Brooklyn Heights, Spumoni Gardens in Gravesend, and Franny's in Park Slope.

I've never been to NYC , so I can't comment on some of those good lookin' pizzas. But I did have Patsy Grimaldi's when I was in Arizona a few years ago and they claimed to have the coal burning oven there. I can see why it's like the Uno's of New York. I was not really impressed by it. It seemed like a corporate type of operation. But it wasn't bad either. I'd probably rather have Grimaldi's in Arizona again before I ever eat at a Pizzeria Uno chain. What a joke that is. I'll get to NYC one day, and I have a lot of pizza waiting to be eaten!

I've wanted to visit Di Fara Pizza for years. A couple months ago I finally made the pilgrimage to Midwood and it didn't disappoint.



We put in our order—a regular pie—and stood by the counter for a full hour while Domenico DeMarco, owner and sole pizza maker, methodically filled the many orders preceding ours. Usually standing for an hour waiting for food would be a major annoyance but this was a pleasure, providing ample opportunity to watch a true master at work. Mr DeMarco has been making pizzas for fifty years and all that experience is evident. There's not a wasted motion; I've never seen a ball of dough shaped so effortlessly.



When the pizza is done, he doesn't waste time with a peel, he simply reaches into the oven and grabs the pie!



Before slicing, Mr DeMarco anoints the pizza with its final drizzle of oil, gives it a dusting of grana padano (two mozzarellas are used earlier), and snips a bouquet of basil over it.





It's a spectacular pizza, worthy of all the hype. I was hugely impressed with the overall quality of the ingredients and their harmonious balance. A pizza to dream about.

Square pizzas are available as well. We spoke with a couple pizza fanatics who thought Di Fara's basic square pie was the pinnacle of NY pizza. Sure looks good.



Di Fara Pizza
1424 Avenue J
Brooklyn NY
718-258-1367
http://www.difara.com/

Rene G wrote:It's a spectacular pizza, worthy of all the hype. I was hugely impressed with the overall quality of the ingredients and their harmonious balance. A pizza to dream about.

Di Fara pizza does achieve harmonious balance. The interesting thing is that this is accomplished not through uniformity, but through variability. The crust has a variable thickness, quite thin in the middle (much thinner and more tender than Frank Pepe's) and with somewhat randomly thick edges that are yeasty and bubbly in places (ReneG's picture of Mr. DeMarco stretching the crust conveys this.) The pizza pictured here also had a fragile crispness and some soft spots. The toppings, noted upthread by PIGMON, are cut and distributed in such a manner that each one can be tasted distinctly, rather than as an indistinguishable feature of the gestalt. Chunks of tomato, small and large leaves of basil, dried herbs, globs and sprinklings of cheeses (the two mozzarellas seem quite different), and enough olive oil to taste on its own give the pizza an epic quality. Good idea, ReneG, I hope I dream about Di Fara's pizza tonight.

How can a SQUARE piece be a pinnacle of New York pizza? It's just impossible. The slice (and a DiFara slice in particular) is the pinnacle.

Gary,
The square pizza must be the pinnacle for the two New Yorkers who ordered it. When was the last time you observed New Yorkers waiting an hour for anything? They can't even wait for the light to change to make a left turn across oncoming traffic. Try that in Chicago!

However, I tend to agree that Di Fara's wedge-shaped slice is the pinnacle for me.

I believe the square pizza is properly called a Sicilian pie in the New York area.

Some pinnacles are simply higher than others.

I ate at Di fara's several times in the month of June in 2005, a few months before
Gaf, PigMon, and Trixie went. I agree that DeMarco makes beautiful pies. The pepperoni was sliced by hand when i was there. Its has a smaller circumference then "normal" pepperoni but is cut thicker than normal. It was garlicky and spicy, and it got crispy around the edges as the pie cooked, releasing a good amount of oil that mixed with the oil from the cheeses as well as the olive oil drizzled on after cooking. I enjoyed the greasiness of this pizza, i think because it came from such high quality ingredients and therefore just imparted more delicious flavor. There were never issues with underdone crust and our pizzas were always mouth-burning hot. The crust was not chewy but also not cracker like. More of a simple american style pizza dough, but really good, and thin. It did get crispy on the bottom and around the edges.

I also had the square pie several times. DeMarco made this one differently, at least some of the time. He partially cooked the base early on in the day with a small amount of sauce on it. Then when a slice was ordered he added more toppings and put it back in the oven. The square pizza is equal in quality and flavor to the regular round pies, imo.

I remember many of the customers, including me, behaving as if they were in the presence of a celebrity.

Of all the pizzas I've tried, including Grimaldi's(several times, found it bland but yeah good ingredients), Totonno's(once or twice, very good), Sullivan Street Bakery, Coal Fire, Spacca Napoli, D'amatos, and quite a few others of varying styles and quality, Great Lakes and D'amatos are by far my favorites. They are similar in some ways, too. Each place is run by one man who is intensely focused on producing his idea of the perfect pizza in person, by hand, day after day.

PaulSL and I shared a mushroom pizza at DiFara today, and Dominick DeMarco hasn't lost a step. In truth, I actually preferred this pizza to the previous ones in that the center was slightly less "soupy," a distinguishing characteristic of his style. The crust was perfect and his basil marvelous.







Now that's a New York Pizza!

GAF wrote: ...Dominick DeMarco hasn't lost a step.

I couldn't agree more.