Yeah, I'll Check Out A Movie BUT EVERYBODY LOVES PIZZADanny Aiello's character, Sal (left), pulls a slice from the oven at Sal's, in Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing. In one of the movie's most memorable scenese, Bill Nunn's character, Radio Raheem (right), explains the dichotomy of love and hate, the film's central theme.
Spike Lee's latest joint, She Hate Me, opened Wednesday. And though we haven't had time to catch it yet, you can bet Slice's ass will be in the seats sometime soon. One: We're big Spike Lee fans. Two: The film's title references Rod Smart's He Hate Me jersey from his days in the now-defunct Xtreme Football League (XFL). Three: Hot lesbians (right).
But for now, She Hate Me gives us an excuse to touch on Mr. Lee's 1989 joint, Do the Right Thing. Pizza plays an important role in Do the Right Thing, as it is an Italian-American-owned pizzeria in Bed-Stuy that becomes the flashpoint for a neighborhood showdown and, ultimately, a murder at the hands of the police.
The film follows Mookie (Mr. Lee) in his job as pizza deliveryman for Famous Sal's Pizzeria. Sal (Danny Aiello) has a "Wall of Fame" in his pizzeria that features photos of Italian folks only. Buggin' Out (Giancarlo Esposito) notices there are no famous black people on the wall, despite the fact that Famous Sal's is in a predominately black neighborhood and that most of Sal's customers are African American. This, along with the heat, sets in motion a series of events that echo the differing philosophies of Martin Luther King Jr. (non-violence, passive resistance) and Malcolm X (revolution, proactive resistance). We'd like to go into the underlying themes that the movie explores, but our cultural-interpretation skills are rusty; we'll let you read this article for all the weighty semiotics involved.
Anyway: It's hot out. Buggin' Out wants African Americans on the wall. Sal doesn't. At first Sal's regulars think Buggin' Out is full of it and tell him not to worry. But slowly people start coming around to his point of view. It comes to a head when Radio Raheem (Bill Nunn) comes in, boom box in hand, blaring Public Enemy's "Fight the Power" (the only song that ever issues forth from his radio). Sal tells him to turn it off. Raheed turns it up instead. Sal smashes it with a bat. Raheed grabs Sal. They fight. Chaos breaks out. The pizzeria is smashed and burned. The cops come. The cops kill Raheed. And finally, Smiley, a mentally challenged neighborhood dude, enters the burning pizzeria to hang up one of his picture postcards of King and X shaking hands (which he has been trying to sell to various people throughout the movie).
Slice has always liked this film, both for the pizzeria in which it largely takes place and for its challenging nature—we never know quite how to feel after watching it. Which, is, we suspect, Mr. Lee's aim.
The movie was inspired partly by a racially charged incident in Howard Beach in 1986, in which a group of white residents beat and chased three black men, ultimately killing one. The incident began at a pizzeria there.
Slice has been to New Park Pizza, where the tragic real-life event occurred, though not out of morbid curiousity—Ed Levine recommended the place to us.
We would, however, like to visit the street where the fictional Sal's Famous was located. We gleaned the address from the DVD after pausing and slow-tracking through shots: 162 Stuyvesant Avenue.
I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY'S WATCHIN' MEA screenshot from the ACLU's Summer Surveillance Campaign website. The site is the ACLU's online home in its fight against invasive technology and government policies.
In the Flash-animated scenario, a man calls his local pizzeria for a delivery order and learns that the teleservice agent on the other end knows a little too much about him. She knows, for instance, that he has high blood pressure and heart problems and tells him there'll be a high-health-risk surcharge on his order.
We've seen this before as plain text on a libertarian-themed website, but the ACLU's slick web-production work freshens it up.
[Thanks to Ian in Stockholm for alerting us to this one.]
BOSTON RECONSlice Roving Reporter E-Rock swooped in on Boston (above) for his latest Slice To Go report. His adventures are detailed below. [This image from USGS satellite via Microsoft TerraServer website.]
WORDS BYE-ROCK | PHOTOGRAPHS BYCHRIS NAU
How does one prepare for the coming shitstorm next month called the Republican National Convention? The one that will snarl our streets, shut down our trains, and fill the streets with folks who don't like our city anyway? [Oh but they will love New York, E-Rock, once they get a taste of our delicious pizza. See G.O.Pizza for details.—Ed.] Go to Boston a few days before the Democratic National Convention, where essentially the same thing is happening, except that the drunk guys in suits are having a lovefest fueled by parties in Cambridge with mounds of cocaine the size of Pamela Anderson's implants.
E-Rock had a long weekend a few days ago, and it takes more than a throng of juiced-up politicians and their boot-licking servants to spoil that. I go to Boston a couple times every summer to visit my twisted abstract-painter friend Chris. In the past we would wander around the streets of South Boston with open containers and watch huge artist-loft buildings get demolished by wrecking balls to make way for high-end condos. But now he and his girlfriend Lesley have a place in quaint Somerville, Massachusetts, just north of the city, so we decided to settle for a Saturday spent wandering around the more well-traveled areas of the city, capped by a pizza freakout.
First of all, though, E-Rock had to get there. I usually take the Fung Wah Bus, which runs between New York and Boston's Chinatowns for $10 each way. Some people are fond of making fun of these buses, but the rich, racist pricks who love to criticize it have obviously never taken the Greyhound to Boston. E-Rock, short on time Friday and near the Port Authority Bus Terminal, opted for the $35 Greyhound ticket instead. I waited in an enormous line in the bowels of the terminal for the 7 p.m. bus. At 7:30, we were informed that they "didn't have a driver" because of "traffic," and we'd have to wait until Greyhound located one. Is Friday-night traffic on northbound I-95 something new? They don't know about these things? E-Rock's bus didn't leave the city until 8:30. I drained my flask of Famous Grouse into a half-empty Pepsi bottle and endured the smell of an overflowing toilet and the sound of cell-phone ringers turned up to the volume of a Who concert for five hours. When I got to Boston's South Station, one of the first things I saw was a young, suit-wearing delegate yelling at a homeless person. At times like these I wonder why I ever bother leaving New York.
When I got to Somerville, I found out that Lesley was going to volunteer for the proceedings at the convention on Sunday as a "city guide." Her required attire? A white golf shirt with the logos of corporate sponsors like Gillette (it said nothing about the convention on it) and khaki pants. Did the fashion people setting this up have the right convention?
We started Saturday with a stroll near Boston Common and into the city's South End. Chris, on a Francis Bacon binge, wanted to go to an art-book store in the neighborhood. We then went to J. J. Foley's and watched the beginnings of what proved to be a completely insane Yankees-Red Sox game. We saw the A-Rod vs. Varitek bloodbath, and it made E-Rock glad he's a Mets fan. The last thing I needed was to cheer for an opposing team deep in the heart of rabid Boston sports mania.
IRAQI ARTIFACTSE-Rock met an Iraqi-based contractor in a Boston bar who showed him Iraqi money (left) and wild pictures on his laptop (right).
We then walked northwest through the city toward the Charles River—cruising by plenty of people in white golf shirts and khakis—and ended up at another bar, the Crossroads, at the foot of the bridge connecting the two cities. Thinking we would just settle for a pre-pizza shot of Jameson, it was supposed to be a quick stop. But things changed when Mariano Rivera blew the Yanks' lead and Chris started talking to a guy who had spent months as a contractor in Iraq. That part of our journey was punctuated by the guy showing us newly-minted money from Iraq, freaky pictures of what's happening in the country and telling us about the general insanity going on over there. (I guess it's legal to walk around with an automatic weapon in clear view.) Red Sox third baseman Bill Meuller slammed a two-run shot off Rivera, and the bar erupted. We decided it was time to leave and walk across the Mass. Ave. bridge to Cambridge before people started lighting cars on fire.
What's the deal with Boston and why don't they just call the whole place Boston? Whenever E-Rock's there, he thinks he's in Boston and later finds out he was in Somerville, Jamaica Plain, or Roxbury—the place is so damn confusing.
Anyway, the pizza siren called, and we walked to this place called Cambridge and through the campus of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. We witnessed some MIT weirdness—ballroom dancing in some student union type of building. Ballroom dancing classes on a Saturday night in the summer? Is this what Noam Chomsky does for fun?
Our destination was Emma's. Chris loves the place and assured me its pies had thin crusts and great toppings. Having been to Cambridge a few times and having seen some of its glassy-eyed residents, I feared one thing—hippie pizza.
Emma's does have a bit of a hippie vibe to it, but the restaurant is more upscale than most places one would find in a college town. The joint was packed, but we waited only ten minutes for our table.
We ordered a small, 12-inch pie with basil, garlic, traditional sauce, and mozzarella ($11.75, below left) and, at Chris and Lesley's suggestion, we got a large, 16-inch smorgasbord—half of it topped with thyme-roasted mushroom, baby spinach, garlic, traditional sauce, and mozzarella and half with feta, scallion, garlic, gorgonzola, traditional sauce, and mozzarella on the other half ($16.25, below right). (See, E-Rock told you there was some hippie-ness going on here.)
It was all good, but comparing it to any of the top-notch places in New York is completely irrelevant. Apples and oranges. Monkeys and airplanes.
Emma's crust is indeed thin, but it's more like a soft Carr's cracker than the crisp-chewy perfection one finds in Gotham. Plus, those combos of toppings are so far afield from what E-Rock orders in NYC that it was like a whole different experience. This is what I've always imagined California-style pizza to be. The menu also offers pagnotelle sandwiches and salads.
But the topping combos were tasty, and even the plain pie had a nice flavor. The ingredients were fresh, and, hey, at least it wasn't deep dish. There is the possibility that E-Rock was just drunk, too, [That's a very good possibility.—Ed.] and anything would have been good at that point.
I'll recommend Emma's, though, if you're ever in Cambridge, for a good pizza-based meal, but not if you're looking for a New York–style pie. That is something E-Rock will try to find on his next trek up north. Any suggestions from the peanut gallery?
The next day, Chris and I ventured to Chinatown to get Fung Wah tickets and had lunch at a great Vietnamese restaurant called Pho Pasteur. The food was flawless if you could get over the fact that the floor tiles seemed to be covered in some kind of oil. E-Rock nearly broke his hip.
I left amid the beautiful chaos that is the line for the Fung Wah, something E-Rock would take any day of the week over the pain that is Greyhound. And, no, I didn't see Bill, Hillary, T-Kenn, Kerry, or Edwards drunk on power and whooping it up. I didn't see them at all, in fact. But in the parking lot of a rest stop somewhere in Connecticut, E-Rock saw a busload of Falun Gong devotees, the same ones who were protesting the day before on Boston Common.
When the Falun Gong gets going, that's usually a good sign that it's the right time to leave.
America's Favorite Pizza Weblog is proud to introduce GOPizza. Although we skew blue, we're putting politics aside, hoping to find common ground in Gotham's pizzerias. To that end, we've developed this special guide for GOP conventioneers.
Anyone who wants to learn about—and eat—great pizza is welcome at the Slice table. Plus, we'd rather see the thousands of upcoming visitors spend their money locally in deserving pie shops than order in from national chains.
If you're a regular to Slice, you've probably read a lot of what's on GOPizza (URL: GOPizza.net), but there are some new entries for NY-pizza newbies: How to Order a Slice, How to Hold a Slice, and a Pizza Transit Map (right), for instance.
And heck, maybe once Rep. Bob Ney (R.–Ohio) gets a taste of really good New York slices and pies, he'll vote to give us anti-terror money in any future legislation that calls for it. Our pizza is, after all, a national culinary treasure worthy of protection.
They give you $4.20 off your order if you order within four minutes of 4:20 p.m. I think that explains it all.
...lo and behold, the future is here! This weekend, even, you can have pizzas delivered to you by characters such as Galactic Girl and Captain Fantastic, real Minneapolis folks who will arrive at your house in actual electric cars, and will ring your doorbell while wearing actual homemade lamé capes, jumpsuits, sparkles, and fancy boots (imagine outfits that split the difference between Barbarella, Bjork, and your last last-minute Halloween costume). When you greet them, they will unpack actual pizzas for you that are topped with tasty things that you can feel good about feeding to your loved ones, like mozzarella cheese that comes from local farmers. That is, you can feed it to them if your loved ones can recover enough from the shock of finding someone in a super-hero costume in their home to close their gaping mouths.
Actually, we shouldn't make light of Galactic Pizza. They sound like their hearts are in the right place, using locally grown toppings, green delivery methods, and giving back to the community. The costumes are a cute idea. If this schtick is working in Minneapolis, I bet it'd go over really well in a college town.
... As the decade reaches its midpoint, the Bowery, formerly host to its fabled bums and the dark expanse of an elevated train platform, has become chic. A museum of contemporary art will soon begin construction on the strip's last parking lot. A large real estate development called Avalon Chrystie Place is under construction at the corner of Bowery and Houston. And down among the restaurant suppliers, actual restaurants have begun to open their doors.
Watching all of these developments carefully is the family that owns Bari Restaurant and Pizzeria Equipment [pictured above], a business that takes up 10 storefronts at Prince Street and the Bowery. As owners of one of the district's oldest shops, the Baris seem to know what's coming.
"I'm trying to envision it five, ten years from now," said Anton Bari as he sat on one of the restaurant chairs offered for sale in the Bari Gallery, one of the family's many enterprises. "I don't see the restaurant suppliers. I don't know if the reputation will still be here."
But the Baris will probably be around for a while, VanDam says, because they own their property and aren't as susceptible to the rising rents. Interestingly, they also own a small boaringhouse in the area, one of the few remaining flophouse hotels on the strip.
Nice kicker on this story, too: "It's not a street. It's not a road. It's not a boulevard," Mike Bari said. "It's just the Bowery."
Owner Alfred Altadonna, a reputed Bonanno soldier, is "actively looking to sell the place," his lawyer, Arthur Goldstein, told the Daily News.
Altadonna, who worked 16-hour days making pizzas at the Maspeth eatery, has decided to pack it in because of poor health and declining business due to Massino's racketeering trial, which has played out the last nine weeks in federal court.
Apparently the testimony about Massino's hidden interest in the business, FBI surveillance at the restaurant and gangster meetings have scared off customers.
"All he [Altadonna] wanted to do was run a restaurant," Goldstein lamented.
The story notes that alleged wiseguys weren't the only heavy hitters to frequent the restaurant. Customers often included James Caan, Hugh Grant, Johnny Depp, and Tony Danza. (We can only imagine the comedic potential of "Who's the boss?" banter between Danza and Massino.)
Now, the city building inspector told him to remove the banner or face a fine. The inspector said [owner Frank] Pasquale never got a permit for it.
"The way I look at it is, if you look around this state here, you see all kinds of signs stuck to buildings. I doubt everybody has a permit. It's our property here. I'm not on city property and it's right up against the building," Pasquale said.
Pasquale refuses to remove the banner.
He's not sure what the fine will be, but he said he'd rather pay it than take the sign down.
We'll leave it up to you to figure out if Slice agrees with the banner or not, but we wouldn't like it if a Gotham pizzeria were in a similar situation and so we stand in virtual solidarity with Mr. Pasquale in his refusal to cease and desist.
HALFTIME PIZZA Location: 115 Causeway Street, Boston MA 02114 Phone: 617-720-4578
Queens: Home to some greatpizza and also to a bunch of different folks from around the globe. Mix the two, and it's only a matter of time before something like kimchee pizza is invented. From the Bayside News:
[Tony] Sala has owned [T.J.’s Pizzeria & Restaurant] at 136-99 Roosevelt Ave. for 15 years. In that time, the neighborhood has shifted from being home to predominantly European immigrants to becoming a Korean and Chinese hub.
To adapt, Sala took a suggestion 12 years ago from the Korean doctor who delivered two of his six children.
“When he heard I had a pizzeria in Flushing, he recommended I sell kim-chee pizza,” Sala said. “I was doing all right, but it helped me do better. Everything helps these days.”
With spicy Korean pickled cabbage on top of a traditional cheese slice, Sala invented a pizza that mixes traditional Italian essence with the robust, fiery flavor of kim-chee.
Since then he has began experimenting with Chinese recipes for his pizzas. His business adviser, James Wu, said the chefs are working on a beef and broccoli recipe. But until it is perfected, Sala remained mum about the future of his ethnic pizza concoctions.
In the past, we've come out squarely against putting pineapples on pizza, but this kimchee pizza thing sounds interesting. Might be worth a visit when we hit up Queens for a Pakistani-pizza story we have planned.
For your consumption today: A short roundup of pizza posts on other blogs.
First up: The pizza-obsessed Tien Mao makes a trip to Tontonno's in Kips Bay and says it might be the best pizza south of 110th Street. That's a photo of the fare sampled by Tien & Co. at the coal-oven equipped pizzeria.
Second: Relatively new food-blogger The Hedonista draws inspiration from America's Favorite Pizza Weblog™ and posts some thoughts on the humble pie. (Though we would say "No, thank you" to the soy-cheese pizza she mentions.)
Not Fade Away TWILIGHT The House of Pizza and Calzone, where calzones get equal billing on the awning, will change hands at the end of the month.
WORDS BY SELTZERBOY PHOTOGRAPHS BY Adam K. "Everything has to end eventually," Enofrio Gaudioso was telling us the other day, in between folding calzones and sharing yarns about pizza past. "It's time."
For Mr. Gaudioso, that time arrives in less than two weeks, when he turns off the oven at his Red Hook pizzeria, the House of Pizza and Calzone, for the final time, passing the pizza peel to a new owner. It will be the first time in forty-six years when pizza won't be on his mind.
In New York, a pizza shop shuttering is almost akin to a hack running a red light. Most of the time, it hardly merits attention. That's because pizza always seems to resurface somewhere. In this instance, the countertop cases at 132 Union Street will soon display the work of another proprietor. What's lost is the personality behind the pie, the soul behind the sauce. To be sure, we like the wares at House of Pizza and Calzone. But we like what it embodies even more.
Mr. Gaudioso is one of those hangers-on we hear about on occasion but don't encounter often enough: a little gruff on the outside but warm and giving on the inside. Dedicated to his craft but even more to his customers. "I'll miss the people," he says. "But that's it."
Slice has been frequenting House of Pizza and Calzone recently, and Friday found the Slice czar and I indulging in some, well, pizza and calzone. Mr. Gaudioso serves a proud pie without being pompous. Nothing artisanal, and no hard-to-find ingredients—evidence that care often counts most in producing a perfect pizza. The reheated slices look unassuming, but have a strong sauce atop a neatly charred (if somewhat thick) crust; they sell for $1.75 apiece. Then, the calzones. Pockets of pizza dough stuffed with a ricotta-and-mozzarella mixture and small chunks of ham before being deep-fried for several minutes. (Ham is not available in the calzones on Fridays, and these are what we sampled.) One could suffice as a meal by itself, making its $4 price tag a bargain. NAMESAKES A plain pie that E-Rock and Adam K. ordered two Saturdays ago (left) and a deep-fried calzone (yes, deep-fried) fresh out of the hot oil (right). You can see Mr. Gaudioso removing the pockets from the fryer above. Below right is a barely discernable depiction of cheese oozing from a hot calzone; Seltzerboy and the shop's pizzaioli can be seen in reflection.
After dining, we swapped a few words with Mr. Gaudioso. In his quiet, raspy voice he chewed the fat with us on a number of subjects: life in South Brooklyn before Robert Moses plowed through (the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway is one block east); the contendas from the docks who were common customers; a hot-dog stand nearby a half cenutry ago; and, oddly enough, competitive eating. (The House of Pizza and Calzone records, attained at separate times, are thirteen slices and five calzones. "Fughetaboutit," Mr. Gaudioso says.)
We asked a few more questions, reminisced over some old pictures, and perused some yellowed newspaper clippings on the wall—among the few things still remaining on the nearly bare walls. Mr. Gaudioso then treated us to a few zepoles topped with a smattering of confectioners' sugar.
House of Pizza and Calzone is pizza without the complications. Before New York pizza became an overhyped destination food, purveyors without pretension were the standard. House of Pizza and Calzone—pizza without the complications—is one of the few that remains. The neighborhood characters who wander in and out, including the employees, are the only toppings needed for these pies, and there's no extra charge. It's one of those places many use as their extended living room. When you go, enjoy it all. Just be sure to do it soon.
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HOUSE OF PIZZA AND CALZONE
Location: 132 Union Street; Brooklyn (Red Hook) Phone: 718-624-9107 Hours: Sporadic. Closed Sundays. Open from noon to 7:30-ish Payment: Cash only Getting there: F train to Carroll Street. Exit station; walk north to Union (2 blocks at most). Head west on Union about 4.5 blocks. House is just across the BQE on the south side of the street. Recommended: The slices are good, but the deep-fried calzone's the thing
WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHS BYE-ROCK The Port Authority Bus Terminal gives birth to few good omens. Anyone who spends time there on occasion has a "let's get it over with" attitude because of the lines, the smell, and the facility's confusing layout.
E-Rock was faced with one of those occasions on a recent weekend and tried to make the best of it. I went there after work on Friday to catch a bus to eastern Pennsylvania's Lehigh Valley. While waiting for She-Rock to join me for the trip, I headed to the Silver Bullet Saloon, a bar next to the Eighth Avenue entrance, and ordered the $3 Heineken pints on special. After throwing back a few and admiring the chaos of drunken commuters, E-Rock noticed something—the place serves free pizza for happy hour. Granted, the stuff isn't superb, but it can keep you from getting the woozy on the bus ride. It certainly tasted better anything E-Rock thought the Port Authority would spawn, and it beat what many dive bars try to pass off as trail mix.
Would this omen be sign of good fortune for the rest of E-Rock's journey?
We were going to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, to visit my grandfather, whose legal name is Pop-Pop. Pop-Pop is kind of a Pennsylvania version of Yogi Berra. Out of nowhere he says things like, "That water is wet" and "The problem with this town is that there's too many old people around." (He's 85.)
Bethlehem was once a major industrial town. Home to Bethlehem Steel (where Pop-Pop was a machinist for something like forty years). The company was the point of origin for many American landmarks, including the George Washington and Golden Gate bridges. The factory, which once employed most of the entire region, started laying off workers in the 1980s and finally closed in the mid '90s. You may recall Billy Joel's '80s ballad Allentown, an ode to the largest city in the area, just a few miles from Bethlehem. The place, economically depressed for years, has recently improved due to flocks of new residents dodging the high housing prices in the New York and Philly metro areas.
Aside from all that, though, it's E-Rock's Hamptons, where he goes to relax and kick back a few Yeungling black and tans in the summer heat on Pop-Pop's front porch.
E-Rock had never bothered to seek out good pizza in the Lehigh Valley, as the area is known mainly for its variations on German food and cheesesteaks, but on his last visit he was determined to find a good slice. E-Rock's research (Chowhound) pointed him to a joint in Allentown called Salvatore Ruffino's Brick Oven Pizza, just east of the city's downtown. E-Rock thought, The place isn't really that far from New York. It's gotta have some good pizza.
Right?
When we pulled into the parking lot, I was instantly disappointed. The restaurant has been around for a while, but it obviously has been through a Nunzio's-esque remodeling, making it look suspiciously snappy. Pop-Pop, who normally eats at the area's many great diners, was a little intimidated: "Geez. I thought we were goin' to an everyday pizza joint. I didn't know you were takin' me to a fancy Italian restaurant." Neither did E-Rock.
When we walked in at 2 p.m. on a Saturday, the place was dead. Not a very promising sign, but it's not like we were dining in SoHo. We were in Allentown.
The air conditioning was blasting so fiercely that She-Rock was close to hypothermia. After we ordered our drinks, she immediately went outside to "check the car" and have a cigarette.
E-Rock figured the best way to test the waters would be by ordering a large pizza marguerita ($16; marinara, fresh mozzarella, basil). She-Rock may have been hitting the bong in the parking lot because she insisted on ordering a large "stuffed" pie—crust on both sides, a more structured form of Travolta's slice on slice action—with mushrooms and onions.
The thin pizza (above) came out quickly. E-Rock didn't have his stopwatch handy, but the timing was comparable to a good brick-oven bake in NYC.
When one has been to the better pizza establishments in New York, analyzing the pies in other cities is tough work. E-Rock's going to call it "The Wilco Problem." Wilco is arguably the best mainstream, country-rock band right now. You can pretty much line them up against any band on commercial radio that practices the genre, if there are even any others. Hands down. But if you've ever listened to Gram Parsons, you'll always long for something more than Wilco.
The crust at Ruffino's was thick, about three Di Fara crusts mashed together, without the proper amount of light scorching you should get from a good brick oven. The sauce popped a little too hard. The mozzarella was nice and creamy, but too chewy.
"Tastes bland," She-Rock hissed.
On a lighter note, the stuffed pie was a disaster, as one would expect. E-Rock despises the practice of eating pizza with a fork, but his many attempts of Pilates-like arm movements to steady the slice from an avalanche of tragedy weren't sufficient. Sigh. Pop-Pop's pronouncement: "It's like spaghetti."
We left, and drove through Allentown's once-vibrant downtown, still burnt out from its years of economic neglect, sporting pawn shops and empty storefronts. But the beautiful, cloudless, summer day cut through the gloom. We went back to Pop-Pop's 'hood, settled into our food comas, and sat on his front porch, enjoying the day, watching senior citizens walk their dogs and unruly teenagers on their way to no good in the sad, imitation punk-rock costumes they bought at a mall. Glorious.
We asked Pop-Pop how he liked the meal. He paused, looking like he was about to say something profound, as if he had just discovered a way to cure the ebola virus.
"I think it was the best pizza I've ever had."
That was enough for E-Rock to happily settle with Wilco.
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SALVATORE RUFFINO'S BRICK OVEN PIZZA
Location:1902 Allen Street; Allentown PA 18104 Phone: 610-437-3621 Hours: M through Th., 11 a.m. to 10 p.m.; F through Sat. 11 a.m. to 11 p.m.; Sunday, 12 p.m. to 10 p.m.
Now [Leesa Shrewsbury's] delivery service operates on holidays and weekends serving boaters ordering on their cell phones. Finding the customers' boats, Shrewsbury said, can be tricky if they don't supply detailed descriptions. She uses a walkie-talkie-type system to communicate with the Shore Store in case she needs better instructions.
Navigating the waters safely while holding on to the pizzas is a challenge. Not only is the water peppered with swimmers, she doesn't want to hit the customers' boats when pulling near for a delivery.
Sounds like a good idea. Multimillionaire Italian yachtmakers should't be the only ones to enjoy slices on the high seas. We only wonder if those red heat-insulated delivery bags are waterproof and buoyant.
When I opened the store, my partner's name was Farina. My name is DeMarco. So when the lawyer made the paper, he put the two names together. Di Fara. Di for me, and Fara for him. I bought my partner out in 1978, I think. I kept the same name; I didn't bother changing it.
It was all Jewish then, but they weren't that religious. Then, little by little, it became very Orthodox. People, they got scared, and they all sold out their restaurants. I was left alone. And it was the best thing that could have happened.
Nobody taught me to make the pizza. You gotta pick it up for yourself. All of these 40 years, I keep experimenting. My pizza is good, because I use fresh tomatoes. They come from Italy, from Salerno. Then I started to get mozzarella from Italy, from my hometown in the province of Caserta. It's $8 a pound, and this parmesan, it's $12. It comes twice a week. This might have been made two days ago, or three days ago.
I do this as an art. I don't look to make big money. If somebody comes over here and offers me a price for the store, there's no price. There's no money in the world they could pay me for it. I'm very proud of what I do. I don't have any employees; I use my kids.
Other revelations: That David Blaine is a frequent Di Fara patron, that Mr. DeMarco once had a gun pointed at him, that Mr. De Marco eats exactly one slice a day (quality control), that Dom doesn't take the shortcuts: "Pizza has become considered a fast food. This one is slow food. Anything you do, when you do it too fast, it's no good. The way I make a pizza takes a lot of work. And I don't mind work."
The incomparable Lockhart Steele, oh he of Curbed fame, e-mailed Slice this evening with a report that Lombardi's is taking over and expanding into the space that used to house the Nolita Lounge. He was also kind enough to send us a couple photos of the work in progress (above and below), complete with "new banners (sample: ZAGAT SURVEY "BEST PIZZA ON THE PLANET")."
Yet more pizza bloggers! We reported on the existence of Pizza Ottawa the other day. Now we've yet another pizza blog to direct your attention to. Why should we direct your eyes away from Slice and to another pizza blog? (I don't know. What am I doing here?) Well, Bill Crawford's pizza blog, Pizza Maker's Journal, covers the art of home pizzamaking.
Slice makes its own pizzas at home but hasn't been keen on sharing its mediocre results with you. So check out Mr. Crawford's site for tips and tricks on how to turn your kitchen into a pizzeria. His recipes, photography, and chronicled experiments should point you in the right direction.
For months now, Slice has been New York City's Favorite Pizza Weblog. We then decided we were America's Favorite Pizza Weblog. Any possibility of staking a claim up north as "Canada's Favourite Pizza Weblog," however, has effectively been thwarted by the emergence of Pizza Ottawa. Pizza Ottawa describes itself:
"We love pizza, and we hope you love pizza too. Pizza Ottawa is here to provide a guide to getting a good slice in this city. Whether you're in a pinch and need something quick or ordering out while watchin' the BIG GAME, we hope that you can find what you want here!"
We didn't know there was a hoppin' pizza culture up in The Great White North, but we're glad to see a pizza blog documenting it nonetheless. Now if only some hoser in Chicago would start a deep-dish blog so we can start a good old-fashioned website war.
We liked the following thought on the site, regarding an ingenious way of preventing the lid-pie contact in takeout or delivery situations:
We were pleasantly surprised when the pizza arrived a mere 22 minutes after we had ordered it. The box was a little flimsy, but they stapled it shut to avoid any unfortunate accidents. When the staples were taken out and the box was opened, we were happy to find a dough ball in the centre of the pizza as opposed to the usual plastic contraption used to keep the cheese off the top of the box. We at Pizza Ottawa have a nostalgic attachment to dough balls, so bonus points are awarded whenever we get a pizza with one. There were only 8 pieces, which seems a little low for an extra-large, but we had no problem with the size of the slices.
Late last summer, an executive at the Legal Aid Society's headquarters in Lower Manhattan answered an anonymous call from a pay phone somewhere in the city. The caller, a woman who seemed knowledgeable about the organization's internal affairs, claimed that the agency's top financial officer had gone on a personal spending spree, charging tens of thousands of dollars to a Legal Aid credit card.
According to agency executives who recounted the events, the caller was referring to Theresa deLeon, the chief financial officer and a trusted veteran at Legal Aid, an organization that has represented indigent defendants in New York City for 128 years. The society opened an internal investigation and confirmed credit card charges that added up to more than $30,000, spent on things like pizza and shoes. Ms. deLeon later paid back the money and resigned.
The New York Daily News yesterday printed a simple recipe for grilled pizza. Those of you with grills might want to give it a go. The dough looks easy enough to make, if you have a food processor. Don't have a Cuisinart? Find a dough-by-hand recipe and adapt it. Seems like any pizza dough would work, as long as it's the right thickness—no thinner than one-eighth of an inch, to avoid making a giant cracker.
Editor's note (5/27/2010): OK, I know I said I wasn't going to hold your hand through this, but so many people have asked for detailed instrux during the summer grilling season that we have put together The Ultimate Step-by-Step Guide to Grilling Pizza. And though I still think the tips below are good, this all-new updated guide is even better — especially for beginning pizza-grillers! Check it out here! »
Grilled pizza, which was invented in Providence, Rhode Island, by George Germon of Al Forno, seems so easy, in fact, that Slice just may try it for ourselves this weekend. (Our grill, right, has been woefully neglected the last couple of weeks and could stand the use.) We have a recipe from the May issue of Martha Stewart Living magazine that we've been meaning to try. Or, we could go straight to the horse's mouth, and use this recipe from Germon and partner Johanne Killeen.
Armed with this handful of recipes, some good-quality ingredients, and this nice step-by-step guide we found on the web, we have no doubt we'll be enjoying smoky delicious grilled pizzas by mid-evening on Saturday.
Seems Slice is making a virtual road trip west. Here's yet more out-of-state New York–style-pizza news, this time from the Contra Costa Times out in Bay Area's Contra Costa County.
But it sounds like Berkeleyites are in good hands: Will Gioia, the proprietor, is Brooklyn-raised. Moreover, Filucci claims that the California pedigree brings fresh ingredients to the pie and compares Gioia's use of fresh, organic cremini mushrooms to the canned "yellowish-beige," "briny," and "cold" mushrooms of Gotham slices. So it's not the use of Thai shrimp on an otherwise New York slice she's talking about—it's just the Californian attention to high-quality ingredients. Sure, California chefs have a reputation for such persnicketiness, but we could point to several Big Apple pizzerias that use only the finest ingredients.
Anyway, we'll stop picking nits here and cut to the meat of the article. Here's what she says about Gioia:
The mushroom pizza I'm devouring in my car is the perfect blend of New York and Bay Area. The crust is thin and crisp, the sauce is red and sweet-tangy, the cheese is modestly distributed -- so far the perfect New York slice, and then the mushrooms are fresh, organic, woodsy creminis. In New York, pizza mushrooms come out of a can; they're yellowish-beige; they taste briny; and they're often still a little cold when you bite into your slice.
Will Gioia wouldn't serve cold, briny mushrooms in his pizzeria, even though he's probably eaten his share while growing up in Brooklyn. At his pizzeria, Gioia merges his sweetest food memories -- walking down the block with a slice and a Coke -- with his Culinary Institute of America training and his Oliveto, Zuni Cafe and Mazzini Trattoria experience.
The Hopkins Street location is tiny -- just enough room to squeeze in, order your slice or pick up your pie and duck out. Or you could sit at one of the handful of stools and scarf down your slice, or order from the sidewalk through the takeout window -- just like in Brooklyn.
There's the plain cheese ($2.50 slice, $10 pie), with homemade sauce (Gioia says he uses canned tomatoes in his sauce, but when the season really hits, he'll start using fresh tomatoes). [ continue reading >> ]
A bit pricey for slices, but it is the Bay Area. Slice wonders if prices there match the public-transport fares, as they're rumored to do here. If so, BART's a rip-off.
A nice story in the Times by one of our favorte food writers, Ed Levine. Levine visits Chris Bianco in Phoenix. Bianco is a Bronx native who moved to the Valley of the Sun and worked his way to crafting what Levine says "might be the best pizza in America."
What makes the pizza so good? Levine says it better than we can (primarily because we've never been):
His crust is simultaneously thick and thin, puffy and crisp on the outside and softer and chewy on the inside, with hole structure like great bread. His mozzarella, which he and his staff make every morning, is creamy and slightly tart. The sauce tastes like the ripest tomatoes in concentrated form. His sausage tastes of fennel and pork, with just the right meat-to-fat ratio.
The Rosa, one of six pizzas, is made with red onion, Parmigiano-Reggiano, rosemary and Arizona pistachios, and is as multilayered and intense as Mr. Bianco himself. The Wiseguy pie has smoked mozzarella (he smokes it every morning in his wood-burning oven over pecan wood), roasted onions and fennel sausage.
My first bite of the Wiseguy melted in my mouth, as all great pizza does. The elements blended like a great jazz rhythm section.
Make their own mozz daily?! Not only that, but they grow their own herbs on premises. My word.
Lucky for Slice, editor and publisher Adam K.'s sister recently moved there. When we visit her, we'll also stop by Bianco and the Grimaldi's shop. Until then, we can only encourage the sis to go there herself. (And take a few pictures while you're there!)
KOBAYASHI GANBATTE! The Nathan's Famous Wall of Fame before the commencement of today's hot-dog-eating contest. Slice was on hand as records were broken and history made, as Kobayashi "The Tsunami" Takeru broke his 2002 record of 50.5 hot dogs with 53.5. Sonya "The Black Widow" Thomas kicked major ass, downing 32.
Not only would the founding fathers never have imagined pizza, they definitely would not have thought that, 228 years after the Declaration of Independence was signed, we, their progeny, would be gorging ourselves with hot dogs on the nation's birthday. If they're turning in their graves, so be it. We're free to get up to this kind of nonsense because of the very struggle they so bravely started back when white wigs were the fashion of the day.
The struggle Slice faced itself with today, however, was decidedly less important. We were fighting tooth and nail to get a good view of the gustatory gladiators gutting it out in the annual Nathan's International Hot Dog Eating Contest. As we joined the crowd and fought for a view, George Shea, cofounder of the International Federation of Competitive Eating, announced the contestants: Godfrey Bertelsen (Eng.), Eric "Badlands" Booker (U.S.), Dale Boone (U.S.), "Crazy Legs" Conti (U.S.), Allen “Shredder” Goldstein (U.S.), “Hungry” Charles Hardy (U.S), Simon Hopewell (NZ), Ed “Cookie” Jarvis (U.S.), Kobayashi "The Tsunami" Takeru (Jpn.), Ron Koch (U.S.), “Jammin’” Joe LaRue (U.S.), Rich “The Locust” LeFevre (U.S.), Carlene LeFevre (U.S.), Don “Moses” Lerman (U.S.), Jim “Buffalo” Reeves (U.S.), Shirota "Gutzilla" Nobuyuki (Jpn.), Bill “El Wingador” Simmons (U.S.), Marcus Steinhoff (Ger.), Sonya "The Black Widow" Thomas (U.S.), and Oleg Zhornitskiy (U.S.).
The most dramatic moment of the introduction came when Mr. Kobayashi appeared, with acolytes throwing pink carnations to the wind. Greatness had stepped onto the dais.
This was Slice's first trip to the event, and we were amazed at how professional the proceedings were. From the "Wall of Fame," a gigantic printed-nylon backdrop stretched across Nathan's facade, to the individualized intro music for each athlete—reminiscent of baseball players' at-bat theme songs (our favorite was "Hungry" Charles Hardy's choice of Biggie Smalls's "Hypnotize"). The contest was part carnival sideshow, part professional sporting event, and all-American.
We didn't get a good view, but simply being present was exciting enough as we heard Mr. Shea call the event that was happening about thirty yards away. As was expected, Kobayashi won, breaking the world record he set in 2002 (50.5 dogs) by eating 53.5 (gojusan to hanbun in Japanese). [In the image at left, you can barely make out Mr. Shirota (the big guy pumping his fist) and Mr. Kobayashi (in the ball cap to the right of the camera).]
Turning in a stunning performance in the Nathan's contest was "The Black Widow." She beat her previous record of 26.5 hot dogs (set in May's Philadelphia qualifying round) by 5.5 dogs for a total of 32. That was a new female record (unfortunately Nathan's insists on gender specificity), but more important, it was a NEW AMERICAN RECORD. The diminutive Ms. Thomas (5'3" and 100lbs.) ate more dogs than did Mr. Jarvis (419 lbs.) or Mr. Booker (395lbs.). We think Ms. Thomas will eventually bring the Mustard Belt back to the States. With an increase of 5 dogs in just months and an impressive string of records in several food categories (cheesecake, oysters, turducken), she's well on her way to Kobayashi-level eating.
We realize this has almost nothing to do with pizza (save for the fact that several of these athletes have competed in pizza-eating contests), but this was simply too amazing an event to go unnoted in the pages of Slice. We now return you to our regularly scheduled content.
The Founding Fathers never could have imagined the advent of pizza when they declared independence from the British in 1776, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't have enjoyed the tasty creation cooked up in the ovens of Neapolitan-immigrant bakers some 125 years later. We at Slice tip our tricornered hats to the folks who had the juice to tell the English to step off. Were it not for them, we'd likely be eating more mince pies than pizza pies.*
And what food is more evocative of the democratic process than pizza? From the lengthy and spirited debate over how best to top the pie to the eventual sharing of the fruits of our labors, an evening of pizza-eating mirrors, in a way, the give-and-take that went into the drafting of the Declaration of Independence. And in the careful balance of crust, sauce, and cheese, we see a metaphor for the checks and balances of the three branches of government that would later take root after the War was won and the Constitution drafted.**
We at Slice wish you a happy Fourth of July. Don't blow any fingers off.
On a more serious note, we'd like to remind you that the rights and freedoms we often take for granted come at a dear price. Let's not forget our guys and gals stationed in all corners of the globe. Whether you agree with the policies of the U.S. government or not, these folks have to carry them out, and that's a tough row to hoe. But you can make it a little easier—or at least provide a slice of home—by sending them some pizza.
We've highlighted G.I. Pizza before, but now's a good time to bring it up again. The service allows you to send slices and sodas to the troops deployed in the Persian Gulf. It's not New York pizza, but I'm sure it would be appreciated nonetheless. Just click the link above to visit the site. (And we feature it as a permanent link in our LINKS box at right.)
Happy Fourth! And now it's off to the Hot Dog Contest!
* No offense intended to our U.K.-based readers. All's well that end's well, right?
** Speaking of the Constitution, put it on your iPod with iCon! iCon was part of the inspiration for piPod.
What does this have to do with pizza? After the screening, there was a Q&A session with Mr. Legs, IFOCE chairman George Shea, and the film's directors. Always looking for the pizza angle, Slice editor and publisher Adam K. asked the panel about possible New York pizza-eating competitions.
Adam K.: In terms of comestibles, New York City is synonymous with hot dogs and pizza. You've got the hot-dog competition down, but do you have a pizza competition, and, if not, are there plans for one?
Conti answered that there was a pizza-eating competition in Chicago at Bacci Pizzeria (Bacci Pizzeria sandwich board at left courtesy of Rachelle B.) but was not specific about any plans to have a competition with real pizza—here in New York. Slice did not phrase our question properly. We should have been more specific about whether there was a pizza competition slated for New York City. We already knew about the one in Chicago, which was won by Sonya "The Black Widow" Thomas.
We're sad that Chicago got the jump on us and is home to the World Pizza-Eating Championship. This is really an event that should be held in New York. Especially given the fact that the Shea Brothers, George and Richard, are New York natives.
Several luminaries from the world of competitive eating were in the audience, notably Ed "Cookie" Jarvis and Eric "Badlands" Booker. It seems to be de rigeur in the sport to christen yourself with a colorful mob-chic nickname. Our favorite nom de gulp last night was that of Mike Devito, aka "The Scholar." A former gustatory athlete now serving as commissioner of the IFOCE, Mike "The Scholar" Devito must have earned the name by taking an academic approach to gorging.
After the screening, BAM served hot dogs and beer at a mixer. Gratis. Slice ran into bloggers Youth Large and Whiskey Drinker at the screening and promptly defeated them in an impromptu eating contest (Slice: 3 dogs, YL: 2, WD: 1). YL, WD and I also saw one young woman who appeared to be a competitive-eating groupie, proving there are groupies for everything (except, sadly, pizza-blogging).
As for the movie: It was quite enjoyable. We were skeptical going in, thinking it would be more freak-show in nature. But it effectively draws the audience in and presents Mr. Legs in a heroic light. As can be expected, the film regurgitates as much humor as the professional "gurgitators" eat food. Our favorite quote in the movie comes from Mr. Conti himself: "Every American is eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. They're just not eating it on a competitive basis."
Perhaps that's why this sport is lately gaining so much attention. It's one that every American can relate to through the simple act of chewing and swallowing. With each bagel we eat and each slice of pizza we down, a small part of these athletes' glory shines on us.
THE CHE GUEVARA OF PIZZA The Noid was part of a late-80s–early-90s Domino's ad campaign. His mission in the TV spots: scuttle the chain's attempts to deliver hot, fresh pizza to the customer. At the time, the Noid's covert activities were universally reviled. With the historical perspective that time affords, however, Slice scholars now view the Noid in a different light. Like many a revolutionary-turned–national hero, the Noid should be celebrated and revered as a man who risked life and limb to protect unwitting pizza-eaters from uneatable evil. We at Slice are not alone in this conviction. This website expresses an unbounded amount of admiration for the Noid and a genuine wish to see him resume his campaign. [Warning: Site plays music. Mute speakers if at work.]
Looks like Domino's "Noid" just might have resumed activity, as evidenced by this story from WNBC Newschannel 4:
A man who tried to order a three-pizza special for $14.99 from Domino's was denied the deal from an employee who couldn't think outside the box.
"The guy stopped me right away and said, 'I'm sorry, we don't have any medium boxes," said customer August Elia. "And I shook my head for a minute, like I really didn't understand what he was trying to tell me. I said, 'Can we get the three medium pizzas?' and he said, 'We don't have any medium boxes.'" [ continue reading >> ]
Elia should have left well enough alone. That employee was doing him a favor.
To Domino's credit: After Newschannel 4 got all up in its business, the pizza chain sent Elia all sorts of free-pizza coupons. It also said it would re-train the employee in question.
Still: pacification with bread and circuses and "re-education." Never has there been such need for the Noid.
Spike Lee's latest joint, She Hate Me, opened Wednesday. And though we haven't had time to catch it yet, you can bet Slice's ass will be in the seats sometime soon. One: We're big Spike Lee fans. Two: The film's title references Rod Smart's He Hate Me jersey from his days in the now-defunct Xtreme Football League (XFL). Three: Hot lesbians (right).
Anyway: It's hot out. Buggin' Out wants African Americans on the wall. Sal doesn't. At first Sal's regulars think Buggin' Out is full of it and tell him not to worry. But slowly people start coming around to his point of view. It comes to a head when Radio Raheem (Bill Nunn) comes in, boom box in hand, blaring Public Enemy's "Fight the Power" (the only song that ever issues forth from his radio). Sal tells him to turn it off. Raheed turns it up instead. Sal smashes it with a bat. Raheed grabs Sal. They fight. Chaos breaks out. The pizzeria is smashed and burned. The cops come. The cops kill Raheed. And finally, Smiley, a mentally challenged neighborhood dude, enters the burning pizzeria to hang up one of his picture postcards of King and X shaking hands (which he has been trying to sell to various people throughout the movie).
Another week, another pizza-related story from Jeff VanDam of the 
Queens: Home to some 
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Seems Slice is making a virtual road trip west. Here's yet more out-of-state New York–style-pizza news, this time from the 
A nice story in the 
Tonight Slice made it to 
