Entries tagged with 'Correspondent'
Posted by correspondent, March 27, 2007 at 4:15 PM
LA RUSTIQUE BAKERIA
Address: 84 1/2 Morris Street, Jersey City, NJ 07302 (near Exchange Place)
Phone: 201-860-4010
Hours: Mon-Fri 11 a.m. to 10 p.m.; Sat-Sun 3 p.m. to 9 p.m. (hours can be quirky; call ahead)
Payment: Cash and all major credit cards
The Skinny: Takeout and delivery only, with some outdoor seating
All photographs by Michael Parillo
BY MICHAEL PARILLO .:::. As both a lifelong New Jerseyan and a pizza obsessive, I've been known to get gloomy about the state of the slice in my area. Too many ten-gallon cans of industrial-grade tomatoes, too much sweet and spongy dough. So a couple of years ago when I was tipped off about a killer pie in Jersey City, I made a beeline to La Rustique Bakeria.
JC isn't exactly in my neck of the woods, but if you have pizza, I will travel. I loved the pie, and I vowed to return. But then, whether out of laziness or wanting to avoid faraway takeout—La Rustique has just one table inside but adds outdoor seating in the warmer months—or simply because I've been captivated by my wife's homemade pizza and the impressive recent offerings in New York City, I didn't make it back until now.
Not much has changed at the small, modest-looking storefront bakery and pizzeria. A blown-up 1938 mug shot of Frank Sinatra still watches over the pizzaioli as they stretch their dough ("Nice and thin, gumbah—attaboy," I imagine Blue Eyes saying), and a glass case by the register still holds a tempting array of enormous pies—larger than those on the menu—which are cut and sold as "oversized slices" (Margherita $3; with toppings, $3.50).
Since this wasn't a warmer month, I had to order my pies to go. I went with a large Margherita with half sausage (large Margherita, $14.30; small, $8.50), and a small white pie with spinach (large white, $16.95; small, $10.95). The owner seemed suspicious when he saw me snap a photo from the sidewalk, and I didn't want to blow my cover, so I faded into the woodwork for a few minutes while my pies cooked. (I would defend my right to photograph, sans flash, to the ends of the earth, but I prefer to avoid confrontation with people who are feeding me.) Luckily, the baking didn't take long, given the intensity of the inferno beneath the brick oven's high-heat tiles.
After paying and shrugging off a sarcastic comment about my "taking pictures for posterity"—did he think I was trying to steal his design secrets?—I threw my short stack of boxes in my car and drove away. This is the part that kept messing me up. I was staked with hot pizzas, but I had no nearby safe house at which to tuck into them—home was almost 20 miles away. Park bench? Hourly motel room? I pulled over and settled for a few quick bites of the white pie—you know, because it would be unfair not to eat some of the stuff while it was as hot as possible. This was a good move, for the moment.
But then, as I drove, with my windows fogging over and my taste buds teased into great expectation, I had to endure the tantalizing aroma of smoke, herbs, tomatoes, and hot cardboard (I love the scent of pizza-warmed cardboard, a perk of the takeout experience). I avoided looking at my speedometer, and I'm lucky I wasn't pulled over.
I made it home while the pizza was still warm, and I went to work in earnest. The Margherita looked similar to the one I had the last time, which I'd photographed, for posterity. Today's specimen was a gorgeous, colorful pie, with snow-white house-made mozzarella peeking out from under the bright red blush of San Marzano tomatoes. (The cheese is so delicate and low in moisture that it must be placed beneath the tomatoes or it will burn.) The vibrant red was blurred to a fuzzier hue where Parmesan cheese had been sprinkled. The end crust bore the precious burn marks that I've come to value so highly.
Unfortunately, the pizza wasn't thin enough in the middle, and some of the internal areas met my teeth with a somewhat gluey texture. It seemed the bottom had charred before the dough directly beneath the cheese had had a chance to set fully.
Still, this was one tasty pizza, albeit subtly so. La Rustique achieves a refined savoriness rather than favoring forceful flavors. In fact, it's a pizza that resists being adorned. I liked the sausage slices, but the fennel-rich links, though nice, threw the flavor out of balance a bit. There's no question in my mind that ordering a Margherita is the way to best appreciate this pie as a whole—the creamy and mild mozzarella, the tangy and not-too-sweet tomatoes, the salty Parm, the nicely charred crust, all in harmony.
Yes, the Margherita is the star, but the white pie might earn top billing elsewhere. Not surprisingly, it, too, had subtle charms, given all of its innocent white, so its generous dusting of oregano and its scattered slivers of basil really picked up the flavors. And it contained no mozzarella, only a thin layer of ricotta. My thoughts on ricotta-topped pizza can go both ways—as much as I love No. 28 in Manhattan, I've found the ricotta on its white pie to be too pillowy—and so I was glad that La Rustique got the ricotta-to-other-stuff ratio exactly right. My only complaint about this pizza was that I could not detect the presence of the roasted garlic that was noted on the menu as being blended with the ricotta, which sounded like a nice touch.
Overall, with both pies, the very best parts were the burnt bits. There's just nothing like an oven that's hot enough to literally put its mark on a pizza. La Rustique's dough itself is good, not quite baking up crisp-chewy at the end crust—the ultimate—but offering a satisfying crunch before the cornicione collapses. Where it's charred, though, and where the smokiness of the burn marks can mix with the flavor of the cheese and the tomatoes—now that's heaven on earth. Jersey, listen up: No more pale pizzas!
Posted by correspondent, January 30, 2007 at 2:00 PM
Dewey's Pizza (four locations)
3814 Madison Road, Cincinnati OH 45227 [map]; 513-731-7755
265 Hosea Avenue, Cincinnati OH 45220 [map]; 513-221-0400
300 Main Street, Cincinnati OH 45202 [map]; 513-352-0032
11338 Montgomery Road, Cincinnati OH 45249 [map]; 513-247-9955
Words and Photographs by Steve F. | This transplant from the East Coast says, "Cincinnati is a ghost town for pizza." Ask the locals, and they'll vehemently disagree—because they grew up with their favorite pizza chains, such as LaRosa's and Donato's. These local chains offer pizza that is one step above microwaveable pizza. Simply put, it's junk. However, if you really explore Cincinnati, there is one worthy mention for Slice, and that's Dewey's Pizza.
Dewey's has the closest thing to New York–style pizza in Cincinnati, with a couple of glaring differences. First off: No slices. Yup, it's whole pies or nothing. Second: Dewey's is a polished, stylish restaurant, a big difference from most New York pizza joints. But is that so bad? I don't think so. Dewey's looks sharp, inside and out. Inside, there are big windows that fully expose the ovens and prep counters. Cool!
Let's get to the pizza. I always get the large pie (17-inch) for $11.95. I make sure to order it well done, which gives it that crisp dough and a slight crunch—otherwise, Dewey's usually bakes it on the light side, and it gets a bit too chewy and doughy. The cheese is 100 percent mozzarella (the only place in Cincy that uses all mozzarella on its pies). The red sauce is bit spicy, and not as sweet as I like it, but it's tasty nonetheless.
Overall, Dewey's is a damn good pie, and if you grade on a curve for the Midwest, then Dewey's is a fantastic pie.
I grew up in Poughkeepsie, New York (great pizza there!), then moved to Long Island (great pizza!), then Philadelphia (great pizza!), and now Cincinnati (crappy pizza!). I'm extremely thankful for Dewey's—a solid pizza place that keeps this ghost town haunted.
Posted by correspondent, January 5, 2007 at 1:29 PM
DISPATCH AND PHOTOS BY DAVE, Special to Slice .::. New York–style pizza is disappointingly scarce around Rochester, but it can be found. One of the better examples is produced at Main Street Pizza in Brockport, a college town about 20 miles west of the city. Main Street offers thin-crust "NYC Style" or white garlic pizzas, as well as "Traditional Pizza," which is described as "thick crust, zesty sauce with two cheeses," all available by the slice ($1.50) or pie. New York–style pies come in 12-inch, 14-inch, 16-inch, and 18-inch sizes and average out to about $1 a slice.
At its best, Main Street puts out some damn good, authentic New York pizza, with a thin, bready crust and a judicious amount of sauce and chewy mozzarella. I say "at its best" because that's my one complaint: In my half dozen or so visits, Main Street has been somewhat inconsistent. One pie was undercooked and the crust had separated into two layers, with a paper-thin bottom that you could peel away from the other layer of dough stuck to the underside of the cheese. Still, Main Street's pizza has been good enough, often enough, that one bad experience hasn't deterred me from returning.
My most recent pie (pictured, a 16-incher) was above average, though not as nicely charred underneath as the best that I've had there. Like almost all pizzas around here, Main Street's is cooked in a gas-fired, steel-deck oven. Because Brockport is only about an hour from Buffalo, I should mention that the wings are pretty good, too.
MAIN STREET PIZZA
Address: 82 Main Street, Brockport NY 14420 [map]
Phone: 585-637-8760
Payment: Cash and credit accepted
Dave is Slice's Upstate New York correspondent. He prefers to go by "just 'Dave'."
Posted by Adam Kuban, November 13, 2006 at 2:04 PM
Ciccio's Pizza
Address: 207 Avenue U, Brooklyn NY 11223 [map]
Phone: 718-372-9695
Hours: M-Sat., 11 a.m. to 9 p.m.; closed Sundays
Oven: Gas-fired, steel-deck
Words by Luke Weiss, Special to Slice | The first time I went to Ciccio's was about seven years ago. My father had told me about a place he had been to in the '80s that served only slices—no calzones, no heroes, nothing but slices. I took the F down to Avenue U hoping to discover this gem. I walked up and down Avenue U, marking each pizza place I passed. I couldn't find the joint he had mentioned, and, realizing I had to choose, settled on the diminutive storefront of Ciccio's Pizza for my lunch needs.
Bensonhurst is a sparkling neighborhood, the lights from the nail salons glow up and down avenue U, and there always seems to be some sort of street decorations stretching between the light fixtures. It smells incredible as you pass the Italian delis and sausage markets, but it is the pizza places of the neighborhood that have a truly special feeling. You are likely to see grandma (she makes the sauce) sitting in a corner huddled over a cane, occasionally spitting some rebuke in Italian at her misbegotten nephews who run the counter.
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Posted by correspondent, May 15, 2006 at 9:00 AM
PIZZERIA REGINA
Location: 11 1/2 Thacher St., Boston MA 02135 [map]
Phone: 617-227-0765
Cost: Margherita (plain), $9.69 for small and $15.99 for large
Payment: Cash only
WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHS BY DAN S. .::. Boston, per capita, is probably home to more expats from the New York metro area than any other place in America. Particularly among the college and graduate student populations, Boston and Cambridge are packed to the gills with folks who call the Garden State, Long Island, or one of the outer boroughs home. This gives rise to several areas of tension, particularly during baseball season, when thousands of Yankees fans are forced to root in the privacy of their own homes (thank god for MLB.tv!) or risk affronts to their personal safety (Mets fans seem to enjoy relatively harassment-free existences; most, in fact, adopt the Red Sox as their AL team of choice out of a shared distaste for the Bombers).
Food, however, is also a problematic issue. Boston's population of tri-state exiles are usually thrilled with the quality of the lobster rolls and littleneck clams. If you want a burger or a steak, you're in luck, as Boston is home to plenty of fabulous pub-style burger joints (Bartley's and R. F. O'Sullivan) and two of the best steakhouses this side of Peter Luger (Abe & Louis' and Grill 23 & Bar). However, Lord help ya, and I mean Lord help ya if you are ever in the mood for one of those two New York classics; a fresh bagel or a good old-fashioned slice.
The bagel issue is for another blog (does someone want to start nybagel.com?); it will suffice for now to say that the bagel situation is grim, quite grim. But our concern for the moment is pizza. Simply put, the vast majority of pizza in the Boston area is awful—I mean, just lousy. The student areas of Allston and Brighton are chock full of slice joints that look like something you'd recognize from a Manhattan street corner, but, trust me, what they're serving up is nothing like what you or I would call pizza. The predominant style in the Boston slice joints is some abomination called "Greek style." I'm not even sure how to describe it, but it's somewhere between New York and Chicago style, with a thick, greasy crust that ususally tastes remarkably similar to cardboard or one of those bread sticks from Pizza Hut. Slices sit out in those heated carousel things behind glass, and god knows what kind of ovens the places use, because I almost never even get my slice reheated.
I came to Boston for graduate school after spending my whole life in New Jersey, and many were the nights during my first year when I would just about weep over some tasteless triangular something that was described as pizza while secretly I longed for a slice from Pizza Town in Elmwood Park, New Jersey, or PJ's in New Brunswick—anything foldable, thin, and dripping with olive oil.
Thankfully, all is not lost! Unlike New York City or North Jersey, you are unlikely to get a decent slice just by wandering into any old slice joint, but good pizza can be found if you seek it out. There's Santarpio's in East Boston, Ernesto's in the North End, and even a little New York–style slice joint in the Back Bay called Newbury Pizza than can all do in a pinch and if you feel like riding the T. And, of course, there is the bisnonna of all Boston pizzerias: Pizzeria Regina.
I'm not too much of a histoy buff, but Pizzeria Regina has cred. It opened in 1926, making it, I think, the third- or fourth-oldest pizzeria in America (someome can check my facts on that). It is tucked into Boston's North End, one of America's great Italian-American neighborhoods, a charming network of narrow streets full of fantastic restaurants, pastry joints, cafes, and historical monuments (Paul Revere's house is in the neighborhood). A tirp to the North End is all but a guaranteed good time (try Taranta's for some fantastic gnocchi).
My girlfriend and I decided to meet up with some friends on Friday Night to give Regina's a try. I had been there a couple of times before and had always been impressed. On a trip back home over Easter weekend, I had taken my girlfriend to Patsy's in East Harlem, and I was curious to see how Regina's would hold up to a classic New York coal burner.
If you go to Regina on a weekend night, be prepared for a wait. There are no reservations at this cash-only joint, and folks are taken on a first-come, first-served basis. Our wait this time was mercifully brief, perhaps due to our somewhat late arrival (8:30 p.m.). Inside, Regina's is all atmosphere: crowded, noisy, and bustling, tables packed with hungry pizza seekers, surly waitresses crisscrossing the space dishing out pies and pitchers.
Regina only serves four things: pizza, beer, wine, and soda. The place has a storied reputation for curt servers (it's actually considered part of the charm), but our waitress was actually quite friendly—probably because we ordered quickly. There's a great variety of pies (you can get the list on the website), and, like a steakhouse, you are given the option to order to your desired doneness: lightly done, regular, or well done (what kind of sick freak would order a pizza "lightly done"?). Our party of five decided to go with two large pies, both cooked regular (I really wanted to get one well done, but I didn't think the rest in my party would be as high on char as I am): one classic Margherita (right) and one Saint Anthony's, a white pizza topped with homemade sausage, roasted peppers, onions, mushrooms, fresh garlic, and mozz. Of course, we also ordered the Boston requisite: two pitchers of Sam Adams.
While we waited for the pies, we chatted over our beer and soaked in the atmosphere. Like Totonno's, the place is a true throwback; the decor hasn't changed in 80 years, right down to the red booths and cramped quarters. The brick oven is open to view from the dining room, filling the whole place with the smell of bubbling cheese and char. As said, the place was crowded, and the pizzaiolo (right) gives attention to each pie, so we did have to wait a bit. But, after about 15 minutes, the pies came out.
The Margherita (right) was, in my opinion, about perfect. The crust is thicker than what you get at Pasty's or Grimaldi's, more the thickness of a typical slice joint, but it's sublimely crisp on the outside and chewy within. The pizza heel gets a nice char from the wood-burning brick oven, though in a regular cooked pie, the bottom of the slice is disappointingly char free (I imagine ordering a pie well done would correct this sad particular). While a bit of tip sag was evident, it hardly detracted from the pie, and was actually much less of a problem than at my last trip to Patsy's (the thicker crust no doubt helps). The sauce is wonderful: full of flavor and not too sweet (I believe California tomatoes are used), while the cheese is a straight shredded mozz but spiked with a dusting of pecorino Romano.
Like 
The Saint Anthony's pie (right) was also quite good, but I'm not really into lots of topings. The sausage is made fresh and tasted delicious, as did the roasted peppers. But, of course, with that many toppings, mushrooms in particular, the Saint Anthony's pie was significantly soggier than its Marghertia cousin. Still, a fine loaded pie, indeed.
In short, Pizzeria Regina does the job when it comes to alleviating the pizza withdrawal that so often afflicts the displaced tri-stater who comes to Beantown. You can even stop at Mike's or Modern Pastry on your way back to the subway for an amazing cannoli. Buon appetito a tutti!
This entry comes to Slice via a Slice correspondent. To find out how you can contribute to Slice, click here.
Posted by correspondent, April 26, 2006 at 9:22 PM
Honey P. is a contributor at our sister site, A Hamburger Today. She's also a one-time resident of The K.C., where her parents still live. She filed this report while on a recent trip to visit them.
SPIN NEAPOLITAN PIZZA
Location: 6541 West 119th Street, Overland Park KS 66209 (b/n Metcalf and Nall) [map]
Phone: 913-451-SPIN (7746); carry-out only
Website: spinpizza.com
BY HONEY P. .::. When Papa P. said, "I'll tell you where to get the best pizza," on a recent Friday night, you can bet lil' Honey was all ears. (Yeah, so what I chill with the 'rents on weekends, nothing wrong with that, right?) Point was, Papa knows pizza, and although he lives in The K.C., where the beef is a lot easier to come by than a decent pie, he does his best to satisfy his insatiable crunchy, salty, tomato-topped needs.
Papa's vote was for Spin! Neapolitan Pizza. Not having lived in suburban Kansas City for the last 10 years, the only slice I knew Dad was cool with came from Il Trullo. Papa says what? We set our game plan in action: Mama downloaded the menu, we placed a phone order, and in 15 minutes we were picking up gourmet pies from the nearby strip mall that houses Spin. (Carry-out only; Spin does not deliver.)
Spin offers a veritable Gourmet Garage of choices, at least for these parts, but purist Pa went for pepperoni while Ma and I gloated over our much tastier "patate," topped with a layer of roasted potatoes and red peppers, goat cheese, scallions, and crispy pancetta. Although I prefer razor-thin potato slices on pizza, the half-inch-thick medallions, enveloped in garlickly goodness, melted right into the savory mess of toppings. Potato, we hardly knew ye. The patate came from the "Pizza Bianca" portion of the menu, so if you think a pie needs sauce, think again.
My only complaints are with the excess of olive oil (seems the crust is brushed with it) and the lack of charring on the underside of the pizza (maybe they should turn the heat up on those stone-lined ovens). It's hard to criticize though with such flavored toppings and crust. (Remember, you're in the K.C., bitch.) Plus, a smattering of tiny curls of Parmesan completes each pie, whether it's a "rossa" or "bianca" special, a sign that the master of the marble countertop knows a true finish.
Spin is not the cheapest. Their 12-inchers average $10.50, and additional toppings cost $1. And don't expect any two-for-one Domino's deals. However, as quality becomes just as important as quantity on take-out night with the fam, Spin-style pizza should be just what you order.
This review was written by a Slice correspondent. If you would like to submit a review to Slice, click here.
Posted by correspondent, September 26, 2005 at 9:30 AM
Words by Mark Horowitz .::. Photos by Jane Horowitz; Special to Slice .::. I think it's safe to say that most visitors to Maui don't have pizza on their minds. During my own recent visit to Maui, my mind was occupied with exploring its natural beauty, its stunning beaches, snorkeling in its clear reefs, and, from a culinary standpoint, exploring the rich, diverse cultural influences that have created a unique Pacific cuisine.
What has evolved in Hawaii is an interesting melange of styles resulting from the mixture of native Hawaiian food preferences and the various immigrant populations that have arrived during the past century and a half to work on sugar cane and pineapple plantations (Portugese, Filipino, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, and others) and to work in the tourism industry (mainlanders and Europeans). My only previous experiences with what might be called contemporary Hawaiian cuisine have been in my infrequent visits to various outposts of Roy Yamaguchi's restaurants in New York and Philadelphia (he has restaurants in other cities as well: roysrestaurant.com). There I have sampled ahi poke, ono, mahi, and opakapaka, the wonderful variety of fish native to Hawaiian waters.
After exploring the breathtaking (literally, at more than 10,000 feet in elevation) summit of Hale'akala volcano, we were hungry for lunch. On the road leading down from the volcano, we passed the Kula Lodge, a restaurant and inn we had heard some good things about.
The restaurant is located in the village of Kula, famous for its fresh greens, included in salads in just about every restaurant on the island. It overlooks a hillside and just about every table has a view. There is a lounge area with a giant stone fireplace. On the menu, we found Asian-influenced items, including spring rolls and local fish. We also found those same fish offered grilled on sandwiches and, to our surprise, choose-your-own-topping pizzas, prepared in stone ovens located just outside the restaurant's seating area. These ovens use a native wood, imparting a mesquitelike flavor. The toppings ran the gamut from meat to fruit to veggies. The young people with us were delighted to have pizza, instead of fish. After placing our orders, we could watch our pizzas being made in the ovens outside. The pizzas were medium-thick crusted, "personal" sized (12-inch) and priced from $10.95 and up, depending upon the number and type of toppings. The wood-fired oven flavor was wonderful, and the sauce was only slightly sweet. Toppings were fresh and generous.
Hand-crafted pizza is a refreshing change for visitors to Maui looking for a departure from the fish and meat fare. Visitors traveling with young children will find that the Kula Lodge pleases all palates.
Photograph of Kula Lodge exterior from KulaLodge.com
Posted by correspondent, August 17, 2005 at 10:11 AM
Words and Photographs by Mark Horowitz, Special to Slice .::. Ninety miles from the Holland Tunnel and 80 miles from the Verazzano-Narrows Bridge, just across the Delaware River from New Jersey, is bucolic Bucks County, Pennsylvania. Long known for its numerous inns and beds and breakfasts, its artists colonies, its meandering riverside drives attracting daytrippers and motorcyclists, and its gay-friendly ambience, gentrification and development have made their marks on the region. With development has come the opening of several notable restaurants. In April, the area saw the opening of Jules Thin Crust in Doylestown, the county seat and its most populous town.
Housed in a spacious building steps from the center of town and featuring indoor and outdoor seating, Jules presents itself as distinctively different from the moment one enters: Posted by the entrance are "Jules Rules," which include the declarations that Jules offers "the world's finest, best-tasting all-natural thin crust pizza," which uses "wholesome, organic ingredients," including "extra-virgin olive oil, imported 00 flour" and "organic and locally grown salad produce." Jules Rules go on to declare that the company is operated in "a manner that enhances the lives of our employees, our customers and our local communities" and that it promotes "work practices that enhance the earth and environment."
The focus of action at Jules is the ordering counter (right), where 18-inch long, thin-crust oval pies with various toppings are set out as soon as they come out of the oven, which is in a rear kitchen. They are sliced into three-inch slices, selling for $2.50 to $3.25 each. After ordering slices, drinks, and salads (Jules is BYO and staff will provide a corkscrew and plastic cups for those bringing wine), customers pay for and pick up their order at one of three registers.
During two recent Friday evening visits, I sampled at least six different toppings and watched the Jules team in action. Jules has become quite popular, and the line at the ordering counter usually extends nearly to the entrance. Although the ordering process goes relatively smoothly, there is usually a bottleneck at the registers, where, apparently, customers must be rung up by the employee who took their order once. This results in needless delays and cooling of pizza.
Jules purchases its tomatoes from New Jersey farmers, its vegetables from Pennsylvania farmers, and its salad greens from a nearby organic farm. The freshness of its product is immediately apparent: Mushrooms, eggplant, zucchini, and spinach were flavorful and nicely complemented the sauce. The sauce was sweet but not sugary and was applied in a layer about equal to the thickness of the slice.
Starting with a plain tomato-basil slice or a mozzarella slice and progressing to a vegetable topped pie seems a natural progression. Our party also enjoyed a greek salad slice, with assorted salad vegetables and feta cheese so densely applied that much of it ended up being eaten with a fork. We also sampled Jules's potato chip pie (see main photo, above), which proved a surprise. The crunch and flavor of the slice was a pleasant diversion. The children in our party enjoyed a dessert slice of chocolate sauce and fresh strawberries.
Jules does not take reservations, and, despite its size, tables fill up. Pies are available for take out. In addition to slices, whole pies can be ordered at the registers.
JULES THIN CRUST
Location: 78 South Main Street, Doylestown PA 18901
Phone: 215-345-8565
Hours: Daily, 11:30 a.m. to 9 p.m. (possibly later, depending)
Price: $2.50 to $3.25 per slice
The Skinny: Long, oval pies ordered in 3-inch increments. Organic, locally grown vegetables and toppings; Tipo "00" flour imported from Italy. Quickly becoming a favorite among Bucks County residents.
Posted by correspondent, July 12, 2005 at 10:00 AM
WORDS BY CLAIRE L. .::. PIZZA PHOTOS BY DAN DICKINSON .::. Your Queens correspondent lived for a spell in Paris, and during her last two weeks there, she discovered an amazing restaurant chain called Flam's. Specializing in Flammenküche, a pizzalike Alsatian specialty, Flam's had a rather un-Parisian policy: It was all you-can-eat. Though other all-you-can-eat restaurants do exist in Paris, the only people I ever saw going into them were shady busloads of confused tourists, and they were darkly lit buffets, not unlike New York City's weird Midtown delis full of steamer tables.
The classic Flammenküche, also known as tarte flambée, has a thin crust topped with fromage blanc, lardons, and onions. Like any good chain, Flam's offers a bunch of salty and sweet variations as well. At Flam's you can order Flammenküche individually or you can pay a set price and have as many savory and sweet pies as you want. It was awesome.
Anyway. I was unable to remember the name of this amazing food after I ate it ("flukeykook" was as close as I came to recalling it) and sadly moped around New York upon my return, occasionally muttering about this amazing pizzalike food. After I posted about this mystery food on the Martha Stewart cooking bulletin boards, a representative from the French Culinary Institute kindly posted André Soltner's very own recipe with helpful hints for tarte flambée. (Click through the jump for recipes, including the Lutèce variation.) But still. I’m lazy, and though I was grateful for Mr. Soltner's recipe, I wanted a Flam's of my own in New York!
I never did find a Flam's (and sadly, Lutèce closed its doors before I had a chance to celebrate there à la Chloe Sevigny in The Last Days of Disco), but I did find 718.
Located in the awesome borough of Queens, 718 offers a number of different types of tartes flambée. [The one pictured above is a tuna tarte flambée. The photos I took of the classic tarte flambée were too dark, so I used Mr. Dickinson's photo. You get the general idea. Claire L. did not try this kind; she prefers the classic version. —Ed.] Though it does not have the all-you-can-eat menu of Flam's (boo), the classic tarte flambée is quite good. It's a tad heavy on the lardons for my taste, but overall, mighty delicious. Their tarte is pretty big, so you might want to consider sharing it as well as another appetizer. Unfortunately, they don’t offer any of the sweet variations that Flam’s does, but it’s still worth a visit. 718 is owned by a native Alsatian, Raphaël Sutter, so he would probably be horrified to hear his restaurant compared to Flam's. Like if we compared a real pizzeria to Domino's. But hey, what are you gonna do?
718 also has fancier aspirations than a lot of the neighborhood's surrounding restaurants, with mood lighting, nicely upholstered banquettes, and dramatically sculpted plates. That doesn’t mean the restaurant has not succumbed to a wacky Astorian tradition though—belly-dancing during dinner.
718
Location: 35-01 Ditmars Blvd., Astoria NY
Phone: 718-204-5553
Website: 718restaurant.com
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Posted by correspondent, January 24, 2005 at 12:30 PM
Sibling Rivalry: The sign on the left marks your arrival at De Lorenzo's Hamilton Avenue, a favorite of Chambersburg residents, as well as the celebrities whose pictures dot the walls inside. De Lorenzo's Hudson Street, right, is a converted row house with limited seating and no public restroom. Arrive prior to opening hours, as the hungry crowd grows quickly. Otherwise, a two-hour wait is not uncommon.
DE LORENZO'S HAMILTON Location: 1007 Hamilton Ave.,
Trenton, NJ 08629
Phone: 609-393-2952
Payment: Cash only
The Skinny: Bigger and more diner friendly than its sister pizzeria; crust has a more consistent crispness
DE LORENZO'S HUDSONLocation: 530 Hudson St., Trenton, NJ 08611
Phone: 609-695-9534
Payment: Cash only
The Skinny: Preferred among locals. Smoky-tasting crust is even thinner than sister pizzeria. Get here early; dining room is small and lines—and wait—can get long
VALUE ADDThe Yankees' Double A affiliate, the
Trenton Thunder, play right around the corner from De Lorenzo's Hudson. So if you're a Yankees fan, you can catch a game and get a
pie and make it a cool day
WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHS BY RICH DEFABRITUS, Slice Correspondent .::. Recently, while perusing Slice, I asked editor-in-chief Adam K. why there was no mention of the Trenton, New Jersey’s legendary De Lorenzo's Tomato Pies.
"Never heard of it," he replied. I was shocked; any pizza lover worth his or her sauce knows De Lorenzo's. [Hey: What are you saying, Rich!? — Ed.]
"Nope. Why don't you write a review?" Adam said. And with that, I gave myself (and my family) an excuse to make the trip before celebrating the New Year.
For those not in the know, there are actually two De Lorenzo's (one on Hamilton Avenue, the other on Hudson Street) in an area known as Chambersburg, traditionally a final stop for many Italian immigrants at the turn of the last century. Although the history is murky, Americho "Rick" De Lorenzo Sr. and Alexander "Chick" De Lorenzo opened up separate operations in what amounts to a friendly sibling rivalry. To this day, Rick's son, Rick De Lorenzo Jr., operates the Hamilton Avenue location, while Chick's son-in-law, Gary Amico, operates the Hudson Street establishment.
Ask any local about De Lorenzo's and the typical reply is "Hamilton or Hudson?" since each has its own rabid following. You see, while both make tomato pies, there are subtle differences and nuances that invariably pull the diner's allegiance to one side or the other. Both are wildly popular, and you’ll always see long lines of people waiting to get seated, even in inclement weather.
One more thing: In Trenton, it's called "tomato pie," not pizza. Although the terms are interchangeable, there is a body of myth and lore attempting to distinguish tomato pie from pizza. The generally accepted explanation is that a tomato pie is built as follows: dough, cheese, toppings, and then sauce.
Our plan was to go to De Lorenzo's on Hamilton Avenue for lunch followed by an early dinner at De Lorenzo's on Hudson Street for a comparative review. Since neither location takes reservations (and both often leave the phone off the hook), we were a little concerned that we may need to call ahead to "reserve" dough, but we threw caution to the wind and decided to take a chance on walking in.
Hamilton Avenue
Commonly considered to be the more "diner friendly" location, the first thing you notice is how cozy the place is. The sign says "De Lorenzo's Pizza," but don't be fooled, they serve authentic Trenton tomato pie. There is one small dining room with booths and tables, replete with wood-paneled walls and music in the background (think Jerry Vale). The open kitchen is straight to the back, and Rick De Lorenzo Jr. serves as your host and cashier. As long as I have been patronizing De Lorenzo's (15 years or so), Rick doesn’t appear to have aged a bit. He's still every bit as feisty, too—if you are fussy or difficult, he'll let you know you're agitating him.
The place was packed, but we lucked out and found an open booth. We sat down and were quickly greeted by our bow-tied clad waiter. Each table has a small, laminated menu, and you can have anything you like—as long as it’s a tomato pie. If you're looking for calzones or garlic knots, try someplace else; the next person in line will gladly take your spot. Since it was just me, my wife, and our two young children, we decided one large pie would suffice. As a purist, I normally eschew any toppings, but for some reason, we elected to try half of the pie with sausage, the other half "tomato and cheese," otherwise known as "plain." Keeping with local tradition, we both ordered birch beer to drink.
The piping hot pie was placed on our table in about 10 minutes, which is decent given the amount of customers they have to serve. Immediately your eyes are drawn to the bright red color of the sauce, not the darker "burgundy" color you might find on a run-of-the-mill pizza joint's offerings. There is also a lot less cheese than you'd expect, and just the slightest bit of charring and bubbling at the top crust's edge. The pie was cut into 10 triangular slices, most likely with a pizza-cutting wheel.
Halfsies: The De Lorenzo's Hamilton Avenue tomato pie. We ordered this pie half sausage, half tomato and cheese. Lines at this location begin to form around noon. The shop then closes at 1:30 p.m., and reopens at 4 pm for dinner.
We reached for the plain slices first. Everyone has his or her own reason for craving a De Lorenzo's tomato pie. Mine is the crust. When picked up, the Hamilton Avenue crust stood perfectly horizontal from crust edge to tip and was in no way weighted down by sauce, cheese, or oil—no small feat for a thin-crust pie. A look at the crust's bottom showed charring similar to that on the top crust edge as well as what appeared to be corn meal in the dough, conceivably used in lieu of semolina to prevent the pie from sticking to the peel or oven.
A bite into the slice was accompanied by the requisite "crunch." I am always disappointed by pizza that is soft at the center and gets crunchy toward the edge; somehow the pizzaiolo at De Lorenzo's consistently avoids this pitfall. Every bite snapped, crackled, and popped. The crust was light and airy, with excellent flavor and chewiness, seemingly deep-fried. Keep in mind that this pie is cooked in a traditional gas-fired oven yet had many of the qualities you would expect from a brick oven.
The sauce tasted as good as it looked, tangy and sweet with no unnecessary additives floating in it; adding salt or pepper to enhance the flavor seems blasphemous. Another peeve I have with "traditional" pizza is the blanket of cheese that is formed on top. Many of us have experienced that eager first bite only to have all the cheese slide off in one piece, burning your lips and chin. Not so with De Lorenzo's. This is a tomato pie, so the cheese is sprinkled in much less abundance. As a result, each bite leaves cheese-string trails from your mouth back to the retreating slice but never whole globs. The balance struck between the sauce and cheese is about as close to perfection as you could get, this is really great eating!
The sausage slice was a different story. The taste was fantastic, no doubt, but the extra oil from the meat drenched the crust and weakened it. That meant the crust didn't crunch like the plain slices did, a disappointment from my perspective. While sausage is one of the more popular toppings at both De Lorenzo's locations, my suggestion to first timers is to go with a plain pie for a true representation of the shops' craft.
In the end, our tab was about $15 (excluding tip, cash only), and Rick rang us up on a circa-1950 cash register, a testament to how mom-and-pop De Lorenzo's still is.
Hudson Street
A few hours had past since our lunch at De Lorenzo's Hamilton Avenue, and we were excited about our upcoming dinner at De Lorenzo's Hudson Street. Our time of arrival was 4:30 pm, just prior to the mad crush usually experienced around 5:00 pm or so.
Hudson Street is nowhere near as diner friendly as Hamilton Avenue. First, the restaurant is a converted row house, so accommodations are tight. At most, there are 15 booths or tables, with not much wiggle room. Second, there are no public restrooms, so make sure you take care of "business" prior to your arrival—and keep drinking to a minimum. The décor was quite similar to Hamilton Avenue, again with wood paneling, only in a much smaller setting. There are two ovens in the center of the floor, and a single television is usually tuned to a football game during the winter months.
We were second in line for seating, and it was quite a chilly day, so we were fortunate to be standing indoors rather than outdoors. There is no host, and seating is first come, first served. The queue resembles more a jumbled mass of loiterers snaking out the door and down the street, relying on self-management to ensure people sit in the appropriate order of arrival.
It took about 20 minutes before a booth opened up for us. Unlike Hamilton Avenue, there are no menus, so you have to order as if you know the deal. Here's a primer: There are small and large pies, eight and 10 slices, respectively. There are fewer varieties than Hamilton Avenue, but the mainstays are the usual—tomato and cheese, pepperoni, anchovies, sausage, peppers, even a white-clam pie that is said to be amazing.
Having eaten at Hudson Street before, I was well aware of these peculiarities. Gary Amico, who operates the restaurant, took our order. Given our earlier experience with the sausage topping at Hamilton Avenue, we opted for a plain pie. Birch beer accompanied the meal (of course).
PLAIN AND SIMPLE: The De Lorenzo's Hudson Street tomato pie. We ordered this pie with tomato and cheese only, to maximize crunch. Note the fine charring and golden crust, which tastes as good as it looks. Note the hours at DeLorenzo's Hudson (right); they're open for lunch on Fridays only.
It took about 45 minutes before our pie arrived, largely due to the limited cooking capacity at Hudson Street. With only two ovens, there are only a few pies cooking at any one time. Actually, the entire tomato-pie-making process seems to be done with more care than any other pizza establishment I've seen, so you feel like the result is a bit more special. The pie was cut in front of us with a knife—first in half, then into asymmetric slices.
Once you taste it, you know the wait was worth it. The taste was completely different from Hamilton Avenue. The crust has a smoky taste, not unlike something from a wood-fired oven. The crust is thinner than Hamilton Avenue's already thin crust but still substantial enough to maintain balance with the cheese and sauce. If there is an Achilles heel to Hudson Street's tomato pie, however, it's the inconsistent crunch; the pie is crisper at the edge, and gets softer toward the middle. However, at its crispest, it is without equal. This suits some people just fine, but to me, it was a small letdown compared to Hamilton Avenue's consistent crunch and firmness.
No other apologies needed, this pie rocks. The ingredients seemed slightly more fresh and flavorful than Hamilton Avenue, although not enough to quibble over. Interestingly, where the Hamilton Avenue tomato pie provides a consistent taste experience from bite to bite, the Hudson Street tomato pie shakes things up a bit. Some bites impart the taste of crust and cheese, with a smidge of olive oil. Other bites give you amazing tomato flavor and a crunch that is near potato-chip perfection. Each bite is something to look forward to with anticipation, and you are never disappointed. Examining the pie should indicate as much—it looks a lot like an authentic Neapolitan pizza Margherita, with splashes of tomatoes (seeds intact) and bits of cheese sprinkled about.
This pie was my wife's favorite. I have always preferred Hamilton Avenue to Hudson Street, if only for their consistent taste, but my wife has never shared my enthusiasm. From the second she tasted the Hudson Street pie, I knew she was hooked. To her, this was by far the best pie she had ever eaten. I can't argue with her—this is a darn good tomato pie, and I'd put it up against pizza from any place in the country.
Our tab was about $14, before tip. The mechanical cash register here seemed even older than the one at Hamilton Avenue. Our stomachs filled, we left pondering the wait for the eager souls lined up around the block and looked forward to our next excursion to Trenton for De Lorenzo's.
In restrospect, my favorite was the Hamilton Avenue pie, but I could be swayed. My wife (and 3-year-old daughter) preferred the Hudson Street version. You can't go wrong with either location, but given the ambiance (or lack thereof) and legend backing it, Hudson Street is generally the preferred choice among locals. Do yourself a favor and make it a point to visit one (or both) De Lorenzo's to taste the best tomato pies Trenton has to offer.
Posted by correspondent, November 23, 2004 at 12:36 AM
Editor's note: This is the debut entry of our new New Jersey correspondent, "Steve, the Englishman Who Likes Pizza Hut." As his nom de blog suggests, Steve hails from the UK. He now lives in New Jersey with his wife, Amanda G., who happens to be our New Jersey bureau chief. And yes, he likes Pizza Hut. (Hey, it was the best deal going in Portsmouth!)
MELTDOWN: Our New Jersey correspondent, Steve, the Englishman Who Likes Pizza Hut, prepares to enter Domino's (top left) on a mission to try the new Doublemelt pie. The concoction was on special recently (top right), and Steve and wife Amanda G., who is Slice's New Jersey bureau chief, braved Domino's ultracolorful interior (above) to bring you this report. Amanda was even able to get photos of a Doublemelt under construction (right).
FURTHER READING
Oh So Cheesy: The New York Times takes a look at the origin of the Doublemelt.
Adam K. Chimes In: "I had a Doublemelt shortly after Amanda and Steve pitched this story idea. I found it to be utterly grody. The whole cheese–ranch dressing 'melt' layer? Eeww. Sorry, Steve: I'm giving this one a thumbs down."
Words by Steve, the Englishman Who Likes Pizza Hut .::. Photographs by Amanda G. .::. After seeing a multitude of ads for the new Doublemelt pizza from Domino’s, I felt that I should cast a critical eye over this new culinary invention (at the behest of Slice's New Jersey bureau chief Amanda G., of course). So, casting aside my prejudices towards the mass-produced, bastardized version of pizza from which Domino’s has made its millions, I headed to a local branch of the chain. The first thing that I was shocked to discover was the constant flow of delivery drivers leaving this location at 11:30 on a Sunday morning. I guess it had never struck me that the first thing I needed to do upon waking up on Sunday was to pick up the phone and dial Domino’s. Then I realized I was
at Domino’s at 11:30 a.m. on a Sunday, so decided it was in my best interest to just concentrate on the job at hand.
This particular Domino’s has been open for about 18 months, but its interior was still absolutely pristine. Of course, there was no discernible atmosphere, but I doubt if anyone has ever visited Domino’s for its Old World charm. I placed an order for a pepperoni Doublemelt for the introductory price of $9.99. Explaining we were writing a review for this site, Amanda G. asked if she could take some pictures of the pizza preparation process. I actually expected to be told that there was some policy from up high that forbid pictures, but was pleasantly surprised when Amanda was welcomed behind the counter and allowed to watch as a wafer-thin crust was covered with a cheesy ranch spread, topped with another wafer-thin crust, and topped with the rest of the pizza fixins per the strict guidelines illustrated on a poster above the preparation station.
The pizza was then fed into the usual conveyer belt so popular with pizza chains, and in about two minutes I was ready to experience the pizza called Doublemelt. I picked up a slice, which separated from the pie leaving stringy strands of the "melt" hanging down. There was no familiar bend in the crust, which was just a rigid, almost crackerlike substrate that simply supported, but did not absorb, the flavors of sauce, cheese, and pepperoni. Biting into the slice, it felt like Passover revisited, like biting into another piece of Matzo but this time with a tangy ranch-flavored cheese sauce seeping out of the middle. To the Doublemelt’s credit, the toppings were pretty flavorful.
Now personally, I'm not a fan of Domino’s regular crust pizza (which rates only slightly above frozen varieties), so this was actually a pleasant surprise. I ate several more slices and felt full without the ball-of-dough-sinking-in-my-gut sensation I've endured in the past. In fact, an hour or so later it didn't feel like I'd eaten anything, which may be a good thing if you have a pizza marathon ahead of you. In conclusion, the Doublemelt is a tasty addition to Domino’s menu—and is probably the only thing I might ever want to eat there—but it is definitely not real pizza.
Posted by correspondent, September 19, 2004 at 11:00 PM
words and photographs by mara and eli, special to slice .::.
While there is no shortage of late-night pizzerias, good ones are few and far between. But Vinny Vincenz is changing that. Vincenz offers real Sicilian pizza right off the L train—and as late as 4 a.m. Vincenz, born in Carroll Gardens and raised in Bensonhurst and Bay Ridge, has brought his Italian magic to the East Village, near the corner of 14th Street and First Avenue.
Vincenz been working in New York City pizzerias from age 13. Now owner of his own pizzeria, open less than a year, he specializes in Sicilian squares, and I could eat one every night of the week. Crisp, delicious crust, with a variety of toppings: fresh mozzarella and basil, sautéed spinach, olives, yellow and green grilled zucchini, wild mushrooms, broccoli rabe, Mama’s meatballs, and roasted garlic with homemade tomato sauce. Slices start at $2. I go for the broccoli rabe. But if you walk in and something’s coming out the oven—that’s the slice you want.
And the Napolitan pies are just as good. Thin crust just the way Italians like it. I love the red onion and tomato.
If you decide to get takeout, take advantage of an economical microbrew while you wait (Harpoon IPA is currently on tap)—7 ounces for just a dollar. Vincenz has a great wine list too. Bottles start at $18.
Vinny Vincenz has a casual, old-fashioned vibe. I could see the Sopranos being regulars. Go for the mobster art on the walls, go for a seat on the bench outside, go for the Sicilian slices, or go just to meet Vinny. Once you get to know him and he gets to know you, you won’t go anywhere else in the hood.
VINNY VINCENZ
Location: 231 1st Ave., Manhattan NY 10009 (b/n 13th and 14th streets)
Phone: 212-674-0707
Hours: Sunday through Wednesday, 11 a.m. to 2 a.m.; Thursday through Saturday, 11 a.m. to 4 a.m.
Payment Accepted: Cash and credit cards
Prices: Plain slice (Sicilian or Napolitan), $2; plain round pie, $12.75; plain Sicilian, $16
Posted by correspondent, June 4, 2004 at 12:01 AM
Garden State Slice
[This is the debut entry of Amanda G., our New Jersey bureau chief. She'll be checking out pizzerias west of the Hudson for Slice. — Ed.]
CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: The Grimaldi's in Hoboken is on the corner of Clinton and Second streets, a short walk from the Hoboken PATH station. Like its namesake east of the Hudson, this Grimaldi's has a coal-fired oven. Our New Jersey bureau chief's half-pepperoni–half-mushroom-olive pie. | Photographs by Amanda G. 
I had high hopes for our trip to the Hoboken branch of Grimaldi's. My husband, Steve, and I had eaten there a couple of times when we lived down the street. We had ordered take-out on occasion, and I remembered the pizza having a chewy crust that was perfectly charred; a bright sauce; and mild, melty cheese.
So when Steve, my sister, and I headed over there for dinner recently, I was expecting, more or less, pizza perfection. What we got was anything but, despite a pleasant atmosphere (I do love the red-and-white tablecloths) and a well-dressed salad to start things off. We ordered a large pie, half pepperoni and half mushroom and olive. It was delivered to our table with a flourish, and looked delicious. But when we prodded it gently with the provided spatula to remove the first slice, a soupy center came to light. There was a small puddle of liquid pooled on top of the pie and underneath the crust. I attempted the Fold Hold, to no avail, and had to eat the pizza with a knife and fork.
The slice, to its credit, tasted good, despite the mushy foundation. All the toppings were fresh (well, apart from the olives, which seemed canned) and the sauce had the perfect balance of ripe sweetness and bright tang. The pepperoni was meaty and spicy and didn't require major effort to chew, which was good. I particularly enjoyed the cheese, which cooled quickly and made for easier eating.
But that sorry, soggy, soupy crust ruined it for me. I missed taking that first bite of the slice, where your teeth push through the cheese and it just burns the roof of your mouth a little before you pierce the crust with a satisfying crunch. I tried to simulate the experience by piling some of the sauce, cheese, and toppings onto a bit of the handle-crust that remained crisp, but it wasn't the same.
Of course, this beautiful state of ours has plenty of other fine pizza parlors to visit, including local favorites right in town (East Brunswick) like American Pie and Stefano's. This Pizza Patrol is on the move. ... Till next time.
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GRIMALDI'S HOBOKEN
Location: 133 Clinton Street, Hoboken NJ 07030
Phone: 201-792-0800
Payment accepted: Cash and cards
GRIMALDI'S HOBOKEN MENU [CLICK TO ENLARGE]
To compare menus from Hoboken and Brooklyn Grimaldi's, and to read the story of the battle of the Patsy's, click here.
Slice on the Brooklyn Grimaldi's.
A nice profile of Patsy Grimaldi in Pizza Today.
[Our New Jersey bureau chief needs your help. E-mail her with suggestions for great Garden State Slices: me (at) amandagenge.net — Ed.]
