All You Need to Know About Di Fara, 2009

Posted by Adam Kuban, July 31, 2009 at 5:15 PM

Now that the $5 Di Fara slice has hit the New York Times, I've got friends and strangers emailing and twitting me with questions I feel I've answered a million times here on Slice—albeit over the span of many different blog posts. So, as a public service, here is all the info you need to know about Di Fara gathered in one place—a Di Fara FAQ, if you will.

What's So Great About It?

This "crowd" is fairly light, as far as Di Fara goes.

Do I really have to rehash all this? A pie from Di Fara can be transcendent when proprietor Dom DeMarco's at the top of his game. If you're a New Yorker, all I have to tell you is that there's a really fucking long line for it. Isn't that enough? If you're not a New Yorker, you wouldn't understand.

If you're not into pizza, don't bother. If you are a pizza freak, you NEED to go just to see for yourself.

[More, much more—including a Di Fara time line—after the jump.]

Is It Really Worth $5 a Slice?

Some lady in the New York Post:

They must be out of their minds. It would have to be the best slice of pizza in the world," said Phyllis Turim of Brooklyn, who doesn't plan to find out for herself.

Good. It'll keep the line a little shorter. But seriously, this is a question you have to answer for yourself. Personally, if I could stand the line and lived in the neighborhood, I couldn't afford to eat there more than a couple times a week. But if you treat it as a once-in-a-while thing, what's the big deal?

Quit Hedging. Again: Is It Really Worth $5 a Slice?

OK, OK. It's not! Lemme qualify that, though ...

At $5 a slice, a a whole pie (8 slices) would cost $40. But the whole-pie price is $25, a 37.5% discount. So do the math, genius. You don't have to be Suze Orman to recognize the better deal here.

And, honestly, going with a whole pie is your best bet. If the "volume discount" isn't enough motivation for you, just know that Dom is pretty bad about keeping by-the-slice pies around very long. If he doesn't have one on the counter, you're better off ordering a bespoke pie.

When's the Best Time to Go?

Get there at least a half hour before the lunch or dinner service ends. Else you'll get locked out!

On a weekday, just as it opens at noon. In fact, get there a little early. You might be one of 15 people instead of 30 or more. Friend of Slice Karol Sheinen also recommends going in the rain. Seems to keep the less hearty away.

Other than that, you're out of luck. There is almost no ideal time to go anymore. You're always going to run into a crowd.

Don't go: On Monday or Tuesday. It's closed. Or between the hours of 4:30 p.m. to 6 p.m.; it's closed for a break.

Be Sure To: Get there at least a half hour before the end of the lunch or dinner service. Dom closes the door around 4 p.m. and 8:30 p.m., respectively. Whoever's in the shop gets served. Whoever's late, gets locked out.

How Long's the Wait?

Hard to say. if you get there at a miraculously light time (see above), you might only wait a half hour. But wait times of up to two hours or more are not unheard of.

Seriously?

Absofugginlutely.

Do You Have Any Strategies?

Don't go there hungry. Seems counterintuitive, don't it? If you think you're going to be eating anytime soon after you arrive, you're sadly mistaken (see above). Eat a light snack before you get on the train or in your car. Bring some snacks with you.

Don't order and then sit down. It seems best to remain in Dom's or his kids' field of vision so they don't drop your order. Go with one or two other people—have one order and another try to snake a table for you. (But good luck; there aren't that many seats.)

Hold your ground. The neighborhood locals and native New Yorkers are brazenly aggressive in ordering and getting what they want. If you're a meek Midwestern transplant from Park Slope, now is the time to channel your inner asshole and push to the front and beat people down who try to cut the "line."

There is no "line." It's like a bar and Dom (or one of his kids) is the bartender. You've got to keep track of who was already bellied-up when you arrived and who came in after you. Don't let a latecomer nudge ahead (see above).

What's the Thing to Order?

What, do I gotta hold your goddam hand? What the hell do you normally order on a pizza? Then get that. Geeze. Of course, if what you like is "half pepperoni, sun dried tomatoes, onions and half sausage, sun dried peppers, onions," maybe I do have to hold your hand.

Seriously, though, if it's your first time, you really can't go wrong with a plain regular pie or a plain square pie. When I started going, the plain regular (round) pie was the thing to get, but at some point a couple years ago, people started saying that the square was the thing. Personally, I prefer the round to the square, but it's a mixed bag. Go with some friends and get both, why doncha?

What About the Special Pies?

IMHO, I'd go with a plain if it's your first time there. You really have to taste how the three-cheese mix, the sauce, and the crust play against each other. Once you've got a feeling for it, step it up to the artichoke pie or broccoli rabe if you like.

Does He Really Grow the Basil in the Window?

No! This is a myth that needs debunking. I think even Slice has disseminated this misinfo at one point. Dom does not grow the basil he uses in his window. At one point—maybe even still—he grew rosemary in the window, but he did not use that on the pies. Think about it, dumbasses. How could he possibly grow that much basil in the window?

Any Other Tips?

BYOB: You can bring your own wine or beer. It's a nice way to pass the time with friends while you wait.

The Di Fara Time Line

Photograph courtesy of Kathryn Yu

1959: Domenico DeMarco starts making pizza in Brooklyn with his brother at a place in Sunset Park, but, according to a 2004 profile on DeMarco in the Times:

The neighborhood, it was mostly Irish. I wasn't happy over there. The people were cheap. If you raised it a nickel, they made a big deal out of that. [Sound familiar? —Ed.] There were a lot of break-ins, a lot of broken windows. I got a gun pointed at me one time....

1964: Tired of the Sunset park location, DeMarco moves to the current Midwood, Brooklyn, location—1424 Avenue J—and has been there since.

He started Di Fara not with the brother he mentions but with a partner whose last name was Farina. Di Fara is a combination of Demarco and Farina.

1977: Dom buys out partner but "didn't bother changing" the name.

Since then, DeMarco has made each pie himself. Even though he has four children that I know of who work in the shop—two daughters, two sons—they play a supporting role and as far as anyone has seen, Dom is the only one to ever touch the pies. The pizza is the product of a singular vision and each pie stands or falls on Dom's work alone.

The place marches along in obscurity but is a neighborhood fave (at least according to emails I've gotten from folks who grew up in Midwood). Steadily, though, pizza connoisseurs outside the neighborhood get wind of the place, and ...

1998: Chowhound founder Jim Leff releases The Eclectic Gourmet Guide to Greater New York City with a write-up of Di Fara. Non-Midwooders (aka "pizza tourists") start making the trek, but the crowds are still relatively manageable—even though it is a favorite on the popular Chowhound boards.

Early 2001: My friend Seltzerboy introduces me to Di Fara. (I include this date only so you know that all notes past this point now include firsthand observation.) At this point, the only accolades on Dom's wall is the laminated plaque bearing Leff's review.

November 21, 2001: Eric Asimov unleashes the hordes upon Di Fara when he writes it up in the New York Times "$25 and Under" column.

The Asimov piece is laminated, put on a plaque, and hung on the wall near the Leff plaque. In the ensuing years, Seltzerboy and I watch as the press mentions seem to multiply exponentially on the walls, joining the various framed pictures of rural Italian life and the bullhorns. Today, there's barely room for any more press clippings.

October 13, 2003: Slice is founded and joins the Di Fara acolytes. First Slice mention of Di Fara on October 22, 2003.

April 2004: The shop closes for a week to remodel, replacing the worn linoleum, putting in a second trash can, tiling the counter, and painting the walls—from beige to the now familiar dark green.

June 2004: Dom appears on the cover of the Village Voice's "100 Best Italian Restaurants" issue. This marks the first time, in my memory, that Dom's picture is splashed across a major publication.

July 2004: Jeff Van Dam writes a beautiful profile of Dom for the New York Times in which DeMarco expounds on his pizza philosophy. "I do this as an art," DeMarco says.

March 2006: Di Fara closes for a week so Dom can have minor foot surgery. While I'm sure that Di Fara closed for minor emergencies in the pre-blog era, this marks the first time we see the phenomenon of the blogoblabbosphere's breathless reports on every single bit of news about Di Fara, no matter how insignificant. (And, yes, I know I am just as guilty as the next food blogger on this.)

April 2006: Previously open 7 days a week, the place starts closing on Mondays.

June 2006: Celebrities start coming out of the Di Fara-love closet, with David Blaine as the first. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Brian Chase is another—and so is Kevin Spacey, who's an alleged pie thief.

March 2007: The first of a few run-ins with the NYC Department of Health closes Di Fara. In April, it reopens.

April 2007: Someone writes a song about Dom.

June 2007: DOH'd again.

February 2008: Slices go up to $4.

July 2008: The Di Fara backlash begins with Gotham City Insider saying "F Di Fara!"

January 2009: Dom breaks his knee cap; Di Fara closes for a couple weeks.

March 2009: DeMarco inducted into pizza hall of fame.

July 2009: Plain slices go up to to $5, and Dom starts closing on Tuesdays in addition to Mondays.

August 1, 2009: The truth must out. Renown food writer Jeffrey Steingarten takes me to task in the very comments of this post. An interesting and well-thought-out critique of Slice's Di Fara mania and Di Fara's pizza itself (which Steingarten finds banal).

40 Comments Favorite this! (2)

Tags: Brooklyn, Di Fara, Midwood, NYC

40 Comments:

One more question (he asks as he imagines Adam's head exploding)...

Is there any place around there where, say, your wife and kid could go hang out for an hour or two near DiFara's while you wait in line, push your way to the counter, hold off locals, and snag your pizza...?

Zach Brooks at 5:27PM on 07/31/09

"If you're a meek Midwestern transplant from Park Slope, now is the time to channel your inner asshole and push to the front and beat people down who try to cut the "line."

Needed a laugh, thanks Adam!

Pizzablogger at 5:30PM on 07/31/09

Pizzablogger: I'm basically describing myself. I always have to summon my own inner asshole while I'm there to fend off line-cutters.

Adam Kuban at 5:46PM on 07/31/09

Adam, I love that you don't hold back on the superlatives when they're deserved! You are Gawain, in search of the perfect pizza, the perfect burger--where is your Chretien de Troyes, ready to immortalize your quest? Oh yeah--you do that yourself, by blogging. I hope your posts are as immortal as the memory, for many of us, of the great meals you record.

Teachertalk at 5:48PM on 07/31/09

@Zach: I think there's some sort of public library or college library on the other side of the subway tracks from Di Fara. Your wife and baby might be able to hang out there. There's also a high school sports field between Ave K and Ave L and 15th and 17th streets. If I remember, there might be benches under shady trees there. She could hang out and read a book if it's not too hot or rainy.

Adam Kuban at 5:50PM on 07/31/09

Love the video. He goes about prepping the pizza like it's the only one he'll make all day. Hilarious.

Jen Maiser at 5:52PM on 07/31/09

You can send the wife and kids around the corner on Coney Island Avenue to The Orchard, which is probably the best fruit store in the City (better than anything in Manhattan), and that should kill 30-45 minutes or so. There are two good bakeries between The Orchard and Dom's as well, which might burn another 15 minutes.

Makanmata at 6:24PM on 07/31/09

There is indeed a public library about a block away.

bobbob at 6:47PM on 07/31/09

"Eat a light snack before you get on the train or in your car." This really says it all. And is the reason why I implore all of you to stop coming to DiFara's. Maybe then I'll have a reasonable wait before I shell out my $5.

I'm one of those Midwoodites who remembers when it was just a neighborhood joint. Now, DiFara's is so popular no one goes there anymore! (paraphrasing Yogi Berra).

Gary_S at 7:16PM on 07/31/09

Awesome Post

Nick Solares at 7:57PM on 07/31/09

Somehow, I've never had to wait there. At all. But, mostly that was a while ago now. Haven't been in a over a year.

f r y at 9:24PM on 07/31/09

I had my first Di Fara experience a couple of months ago (pre-$5 slice) and went on a weekday afternoon around 3 PM (I believe it was a Tuesday or Wednesday). There was no line. My friend and I walked right up to the counter, ordered a full pie, and enjoyed it at one of the tables within 20 minutes.

Koreanita at 9:38PM on 07/31/09

My dad grew up in the area and remembers when it first opened. The memory of the first time he took me there has stuck with me. It feels like it was just yesterday I was savoring the oozing melted mozzarella and nicely charred crust. I plan to go sometime in the next month, and I won't let long lines or price-hikes stop me. I will try to wait a little longer for it too cool before I take a bite, though (THAT feeling stuck with me as well).

Avocado at 10:27PM on 07/31/09

Think I posted this on Slice before but...you know you're a devotee when you travel an hour-plus to stand at the counter to watch the maestro working his magic without bothering to order a slice...and leave with out eating a thing

Joe DiStefano at 12:10AM on 08/01/09

This post will not make me popular. Is DiFara's transcendent or merely epiphanic? As a professional food critic, I can report only on food I have eaten. I have visited DiFara's just twice, once two years ago and again about ten months ago--both times mid-week and mid-afternoon. And both pizzas I ordered were banal or worse.

I consider pizza among the most important foods on Earth, for reasons I have written and would be happy to write again and again, but not right now. And so when I stumbled upon another series of disappointing peans to diFara, I finally could not longer stiffle my continual instinct to increase the volume of truth in the Cosmos rather than decrease it. No, that sounds grandiose. It is just that we all have the duty not to increase ignorance--in either the Dewey-decimal-sense of the word or the Buddhist sense, which may not be applicable here.

Adam, a long line means less in New York City than it means elsewhere. Can you imagine the people of a small town in the Sierras forming a long line to buy a banal (or worse) pizza? In New York City, Manhattan in particular, long lines form because they were long yesterday or because this morning they began long and consequently will not shrink for the rest of the day. A mathematician should study this. Or a statistician. But for now we can benefit from an analogy to the word "factoid," which became current, as I remember it, about four years ago, especially on cable news network stations. But it was used to mean, "a tiny fact" or "a fact of so little significance that if I called it a fact, you would consider me trivial, which of course I am."
The definition in the Oxford English Dictionary, the O.E.D., is far more useful:
factoid, n. and a.

n. Something that becomes accepted as a fact, although it is not (or may not be) true; spec. an assumption or speculation reported and repeated so often that it is popularly considered true; a simulated or imagined fact.
1973 N. Mailer Marilyn i. 18/2 Factoids+that is, facts which have no existence before appearing in a magazine or newspaper, creations which are not so much lies as a product to manipulate emotion in the Silent Majority.

Naive and trustful as I am, I did not understand the application of the factoid principle to food until I stood in line for two hours to get into Tomoe Sushi on Thompson Street, which for several years had received a 27 rating in Zagat. The slices of fish were awkward, clumsy, warm, outsized, and while not "fishy" tasting, not remarkably fresh. It was time to return to Freud's analysis of the madness of crowds. Maybe someday.
For now, I'll summarize and abbreviate my view of what an ideal pizza should be: A pizza is a flatbread with a sparse but often intensely-flavorful topping, usually of Italian origin, especially in its olive oil. It is not an edible platter for Italian cold cuts, cheeses, and marinated, roasted vegetables. It is a flatbread, a wonderfully delicious, yeasty flatbread baked on a hearth; the hearth can be the stone or metal floor of an electric or gas deck oven, but small logs of wood burning on a stone surface are preferable for both flavor and temperature, which ideally should vary between about 600 dg. F. at the hearth and 800 or 900 dg. in the air above it, just right for finishing the flatbread in 90 to 120 seconds so that the dough underneath the pizza is crisp and charred; the top and topping are burnished and bubbling; and the dough in between is more chewy than crunchy or bready; and the rim of dough around the circumference is puffy and crisp and shot through with bubbles of air. (The Italians call it the cornichone, which sounds like the French corniches, the three highways that curve above the Riviera. The crust should have the assertive taste of roasted, yeasted, refined wheat.
This pizza, this flatbread, is little different from the first yeasted bread ever baked, on a stone--perhaps three thousand years ago in Egypt, which is why I become sentimental and even teary whenever I consider pizza in its very heart and essence.
I don't become teary or sentimental at DiFara's. Di Fara's is the Tomoe Sushi of wood-baked yeasted flatbread.

A good pizza is a flatbread with

jsteingarten at 3:19AM on 08/01/09

@jsteingarten Very well stated. Especially for 3:19 in the morning. You are obviously a man with a passion for pizza. So where do you get this ideal pizza you speak of?

Ciao,

Paulie Gee

pauliegee at 10:09AM on 08/01/09

@jsteingarten: speaking for myself, I don't think anyone posting their own opinion makes them unpopular.

My opinion is that pizza, in particular the Neapolitan style pizza your post seems to indicate is the style you prefer, is most definitely not a flat bread. Speaking only from my own limited first hand baking experience, and someone please correct me if I am wrong, a true flatbread most often is not yeasted and is of a thickness more consistent with a tortilla or of Matzo bread. Pizza, and the Neapolitan style which gave rise to its popularity, is a progression from flat bread into another bread related product entirely. Even yeasted flatbreads almost always have a much different thickness factor and textural deviations from what would constitute a great pizza crust, particularly the style of pizza you talk about as your ideal pizza.

Speaking from my humble opinion only, I have never once had a great pizza crust whose primary flavor component was yeasty.

Now, I am merely a servent of pizza and my postings here and travels to eat pizza are to enrich my knowledge of pizza, which is nowhere near the knowledge of people like Adam, Ed or many of the people who post here. I am certainly no expert nor do I claim to be. However, you are the one claiming to be a professional food critic. The 90 to 120 second fire time you mention is likely to leave you frustrated in an oven with 600°F on the floor and 800°F to 900°F reflecting from the dome....that's not an ideal temperature for a 90 second fire time, with your cited ceiling temperature of 800°F to 900°F a better range for the floor temperature needed to aid in the oven spring and heating properties required to not only thoroughly cook the undercrust and toppings in 90 seconds, but to transform a properly made and handled dough ball from a topped skin into a properly cooked pizza with the wonderfully delicate, large air hole filled cornicione I think we both agree is something worth swooning over.

Don't get me wrong, you can cook a great pizza in the temperatures you cited, but it will likely take longer than 90 to 120 seconds to get exactly what you are looking for at those temps.

DiFara is certainly not Neapolitan style pizza and Dom's crust is certainly not like the truer Neapolitan styled efforts found at somewhere like Motorino, Keste, etc. Dom's pizzas are also a bit of a friggen mess. I would definitely prefer more restraint when it comes to how much of each ingredient he tops his pizzas with. But banal, or worse?

Banal, adjective: lacking originality, freshness or novelty.

The "originality" of DiFara, or any pizzeria for that matter (especially the current trend of pizzerias focusing on what is arguably the oldest style of pizza) is open for debate. It most certainly fits the novelty bill. How many pizzerias have only one person who cooks the pizza and has been doing so for four decades? Novelty is something new or unusual, and Dom is most definitely unusual in the world of pizza. As far as fresness, whether a person prefers Dom's heavy hand or not, freshness is something Dom's pizza definitely had on my one visit there. The pizza I had definitely delivered a hearty dose of fresh, and intense, flavors.

What exactly made Dom's pizza banal to you? Did you get one of the burnt ones it appears he may be serving from time to time or was it something else?

Too much time to type and clog up Adam's blog with more of my blathering on a Saturday morning! Have a great weekend everyone.

Pizzablogger at 10:30AM on 08/01/09

Jeffy S,

Thanks for the comment, always nice to see you here.

My good friend PIzzablogger sort of summarized what I was coming here to say. The only thing I have to add is this...

You said "For now, I'll summarize and abbreviate my view of what an ideal pizza should be: A pizza is a flatbread with a sparse but often intensely-flavorful topping, usually of Italian origin, especially in its olive oil. It is not an edible platter for Italian cold cuts, cheeses, and marinated, roasted vegetables....
This pizza, this flatbread, is little different from the first yeasted bread ever baked, on a stone--perhaps three thousand years ago in Egypt, which is why I become sentimental and even teary whenever I consider pizza in its very heart and essence."

Well, unfortunately, there is no "ideal" pizza for anyone but yourself. You are narrowly classifying pizza (at least I think you're describing neopolitan pizza, something that obviously can't be done.

For the same reason I don't prefer Chicago Style Deep Dish pizza, I don't go to Chicago deep dish joints when i'm in the town. You should probably stop going to a New York style pizzeria if that's the style you don't like, yes? Seems like it would solve everyone's beef.

Regardless, professional food crtitic or not, you should get the points of cooking more accurate if you are going to include them on your post. PizzaBlogger already corrected you on them, I will just go on to say that it is a cornicione, and it has little to do with the french.

What i'm saying is, we're pizza people here Jeff. We are way passed the days on slice where we narrowly jam definitions of what pizza "should be" into peoples heads. It's very clearly different for everyone, including yourself.

If you don't like what Dom is doing I politely suggest that you join the rest of the masses that Adam is instructing and just don't go. It makes the line shorter for the rest of us.

Prairie at 11:48AM on 08/01/09

@jsteingarten
I, too, am interested to learn specifically what you did not like about the 'banal' Di Fara pizza?
The 'neapolitan ideal' that you mention, at some length, is a world away from the sort of pizza that Dominic DeMarco makes but does that necessarily make for bad or 'banal' pizza?
Did its failure to meet your, perhaps unrealistic, expectation (based on unfair comparisons) colour your opinion of what would otherwise be considered an excellent pizza in its own right?
I say that only because your ideal seems to be very focused on the aesthetics and technical aspects of making pizza rather than flavour. This makes me wonder if it is truly *your* opinion or simply repackaged 'verace pizza' manifesto; the latter perhaps bringing your Di Fara assessment into 'factoid' territory?

Apologies if that seems a little harsh. I must confess that I have never tried Di Fara (I'm in the UK)
The passion and variety of opinion surrounding Di Fara is fascinating to me but until I actually taste it myself, my own thoughts are, at best, those of a distant spectator.
FP

foolishpoolish at 12:11PM on 08/01/09

Why are you being an asshole if you tell people to not cut in line? Even if you are nasty about it.

This post from "overheard in New York" pretty much sums up my feelings:

That Should Be on a Sign at the Airport

Tourist counting her group, which is clogging sidewalk:
Carla? Has anyone seen Carla? Okay, Marie? Marie?

Passerby, interrupting:
First, let me thank you for visiting our city. We appreciate it. Second, get out of the fucking way.

Mooner at 12:19PM on 08/01/09

"The 90 to 120 second fire time you mention is likely to leave you frustrated in an oven with 600°F on the floor and 800°F to 900°F reflecting from the dome...."

I shudda never let you near that laser thermometer, PBlogger.

Ciao,

Paulie Gee

pauliegee at 12:20PM on 08/01/09

If Dom had a line,maybe he wouldn't have one.

seriouspizza at 12:34PM on 08/01/09

Locked in a room full of ravenous, 'brazenly aggressive' locals scares me more than not getting any pizza to be honest...

foolishpoolish at 12:41PM on 08/01/09

I love a foodie difference of opinion as much as the next guy, but I wish Jeff's tone had been a little less huffy and a little more respectful. Adam wrote a great post--one with humor, humility, and passion--and somehow those strengths were lost in Jeff's criticism of DiFara. Perhaps the hour (3:19 a.m.) led to the less-than-generous tone of the rebuttal. But I know which of the two (Adam or Jeff) I'd rather invite to dinner! (Generosity of spirit always wins the day...)

Teachertalk at 1:22PM on 08/01/09

Sorry, but FIVE DOLLAR SLICES AIN'T BROOKLYN!!!

FiveDollarSlicesAintBrooklyn at 2:12PM on 08/02/09

You guys take this shit way too seriously. - Napoli pizza is the only pizza, calling the stuff they server here in the states pizza is like calling a kebab a burger because it's meat between bread.
NOW ARGUE.

jerkfaceirl at 2:40PM on 08/02/09

@Teachertalk, If you like "foodie opinions" on pizza, you should not come on to this site.

"48 hours of dough rising" and "garlic picked by virgins at dawn" is the standard here.

Mooner at 3:33PM on 08/02/09

you know, his cutting method is pretty interesting... as evidenced in the video. He always does this... he looks at it, spins it a bit and finds right place in his mind, then slams the pizza cutter down what seems like just anywhere. Deliberately wherever he deems it. He really is an artist with the pizza.

jeffsayyes at 10:07PM on 08/02/09

Jeffrey St, you lost me at the definition.

jeffsayyes at 10:25PM on 08/02/09

I wish I could've found this lovely guide before I went a few weeks ago...

http://microcosmk.blogspot.com

steamsoldier at 6:25AM on 08/03/09

@jeffsayyes - not to disagree with calling him an artist (anyone who has been making pizzas like that for so long is definitely an artist), but he was probably spinning the pizza around like that because it was half garlic. Once out of the oven, its tough to tell which half has garlic and which doesnt. He was probably looking for a mark he put on the crust before it went in. At least thats how we do it where I work. Just one of many pizza maker tricks!

@jerkfaceirl - I believe the response we're all looking for is "Anyways..."

Hope everyone had some good pizza this weekend!
Alberto

forzapizza at 8:19AM on 08/03/09

@steamsoldier - you would think that, provided you had HEARD of DiFara before, you would know that a loaded pie like that was a bad idea.

Prairie at 11:38AM on 08/03/09

"The Italians call it the cornichone, which sounds like the French corniches"

Funny, to me, "cornichone" sounds a lot like "cornichon," which means pickle.

simon at 5:45PM on 08/03/09

I do not know anything regarding the technical differences between "flatbread" and "neapolitan style" ... nor do I know anything about proper cooking temperatures of pizza ... what I do know is that I truly love DiFara's Pizza. I am not a pizza lemming -- maybe just crazy?

First time I went to DiFara's was approximately 1 year ago. Having long cemented my favorites as Joe and Pat's (Staten Island) and Patsy's (Harlem), each of which is extremely easy to get into, and each of which makes an amazing pie. With two places like that, I really didn't the trek to, or wait associated with, DiFara's.

One day, however, I decided to go. I picked a weekend day (foolishly). The line was worse than expected, although, I guess, not out of the ordinary. It took 2 hours in line to place an order + 1 hour to get the pie. Beyond the wait, the experience itself was infuriating: I kept getting passed over in line for other people. The whole experience really pissed me off and definitley had me questioning my sanity. Finally, we got the pie -- a square pie. While I really wanted to hate it, I didn't. I didn't love it either. Nonetheless, I left interested in returning to try the round pie that I had seen so many others get.

Two weeks later, a friend and I went again. This time it was a weekday. The place was near empty. The place was empty, so I could watch the rituals associated with getting a pie at DiFara's that have been well documented elsewhere (i.e. slowly and methodically stretching the dough, the application of the sauce and cheese, the scissors cutting the basil). It was captivating, and really added to the overall experience, and likely, the taste of the resultant pizza. Following a 30 minute wait, we received the pie. It was nothing short of astounding. Truly amazing. Yes, it was messy as hell, oil, but wow -- it was definitely one great pizza. I've been back twice since, and have had similar visits to the 2nd visit -- nothing short of amazing.

As a final side note, one weekend I went to Difara's the day before going to my all time favorite, Joe and Pat's. This time, however, when I went to Joe and Pat's, and to my unpleasant surprise, I no longer liked their pizza!!!! Mind you, nothing had changed. The crust was still superb, the sauce still had a sweet, fresh flavor, the cheese judiciously applied. It was just that .... the flavor couldn't compare to DiFara's. Oh well. (6 months later, I returned to Joe and Pat's, discovering, to my delight, that I still enjoyed it . . . I did learn, however, that I can't go to DiFara's before going there -- a comparison between the two simply isn't fair).

crob77 at 8:50PM on 08/03/09

I agree with @jsteingarten.

aargh at 4:32PM on 08/04/09

"Think about it, dumbasses. How could he possibly grow that much basil in the window?" LOL, nice!

casa at 9:21AM on 08/05/09

I hope he raises the price of the slice to $10. Will still be the best damn pizza in the world and might keep out some of the riff raff.

cgorange at 6:01PM on 08/07/09

loved all the comments, i am among the group that difara's is a miracle here on earth
dom is a master to be cherished
i am spending my summer on the pizza patrol for the newark star ledger
our conceit is that we will taste pizza in all 21 counties of the state.
let me tell you someone said it best 90 per cent of anything is crap, i am a little more generous i say 15%.
so far i say mr nino's in harrison nj, semolina in milburn and a mano same consultant as keste ,in ridgewood are to die for
if you don't like di fara's it's you.
usually i say to each her own, but not here
good pizza hunting all

foodismylife at 4:51PM on 08/10/09

@foodismylife. I'm glad to hear A. Mano in Ridgewood is still putting out a good Napoletana pie. I didn't see it mentioned yet. When will that area be written up?

Ciao,

Paulie Gee

pauliegee at 5:08PM on 08/10/09

I lived in Midwood for 30 years and started going to his shop in the 1980s. Back then he served up a mundane greasy slice to say the least and the interior was exactly the same minus the green paint, of course. If you grew up in the neighborhod like me you would never have imagined that he would become a pizza connoisseur's dream.

I had a Di Fara "experience" yesterday. I must admit his technique has evolved into an art form. I only wish I had the pizza when it was hot as I had to rush my wife and baby home as they had been sitting there for an eternity.

I am more in awe of the respect this man gets. Where else can you find a crowd of 30 people wait two hours for a pizza pie?

If you want great pizza, imho, go to Nino's pizza on 3rd Avenue ant 92nd Street in Bay Ridge. My favorite there is the Sofia Lauren which has whole slices of tomato with a sprinkling of garlic.

MattO at 3:46PM on 10/17/09

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