$950 / 1br - steps to frank pepes in wooster square
Lage apartment in down town wooster square, on site laundry, off street parking, large eat in kitchen, free storage space, If interested please respond to this email or call me at (203)XXX-XXXX. please specify the address in the subject title when responding to this email. thanks
Tip o' the hat to Philip G. for the find.
I've been workin' in the coal mine, digging up some more coal-oven pizzerias to bring you. Although New York City and New Haven, Connecticut, are two of the most famous coal-oven towns, did you know there are coal joints in Florida; Philly; Chicago; Des Moines, Iowa; Dallas; and Scottsdale, Arizona? They're all on the Slice National Coal-Oven Pizza Map.
In which Slice wades waist-deep into the plaintive muck of Craigslist's Missed Connections in search of pizza-related longing. So come with me, my love, to the swamp of love that spawns That's Amore. —The Mgmt.
According to the Yale Daily News, the legendary Pepe's Pizza, in New Haven, Connecticut, is contemplating opening more branches in college towns across the country. But I wonder: Is it possible to clone high-quality, family-owned and operated pizzerias across state lines?
Pepe's, a Slice favorite beloved by just about everyone, including Michael Stern of Roadfood, and me. Pepe's, which I named one of pizzadom's "keepers of the flame" in my book Pizza: A Slice of Heaven, had previously opened a branch in Fairfield, Connecticut, in 2005 and another in Mansfield, Connecticut, last month. I tried to go to the Fairfield branch but was repelled by the long line.
College town expansion sounds like a sound business strategy. College kids love pizza (actually, who doesn't), ditto for professors living on academic salaries, and Pepe's would be a cost-effective way for parents visiting their kids to take them out for some non-dorm food.
But is the pizza going to be any good? Is it going to do justice to Frank Pepe's name and legacy as one of the true pizza giants in this country? Can you make a good coal-fired oven tomato pie beyond the Connecticut state line? I have my doubts.
My friend and former editor, the brilliant Sam Sifton, developed the Pizza Cognition Theory, which postulates that the first pizza a person eats becomes the standard by which that person judges all pizza he or she subsequently eats.
According to Sam, "The first slice of pizza a child sees and tastes (and somehow appreciates on something more than a childlike, mmmgoood, thanks-mom level), becomes, for him, pizza. He relegates all subsequent slices, if they are different in some manner from that first triangle of dough and cheese and tomato and oil and herbs and spices, to a status that we can characterize as not pizza."
So by Sam's theory, if Pizza Hut was the pizza you first ate, every other pizza you subsequently ate would pale by comparison, because it wouldn't be Pizza Hut pizza. Sam is a smart fellow, but I believe that people ultimately understand that circumstances beyond their control dictated their initial pizza-eating experiences and preferences, namely where they lived and where their parents took them for pie. Furthermore, I believe that pizza discernment can be learned once we move away from home.
In which Slice wades waist-deep into the plaintive muck of Craigslist's Missed Connections in search of pizza-related longing. So come with me, my love, to the swamp of love that spawns this That's Amore. —The Mgmt.
The way you came around the corner with that pizza balanced so perfectly on your right hand while you didn't simply walk, but traveled with speed, grace, and style was a breathtaking sight. Simultaneously, a sway and strut pushed and pulled on eachother to create liquid strides of ease and determination.
I had spent all day in Manhattan, witness to more beauty, style, and sensuality than can be expected from any average day on the island, and yet 100 yards from my front door was the most beautifully stylized display of sensuality I had felt all day.
I would feel guilty about my blatant glare, but your facial features did not contort to the often ugly shapes that convey fear, disgust, or complaceny. Instead, your eyes glowed. Your lips curled slighty up. Your nostrils flared the slightest bit.
For me, that may be the only moment you play a part in. Without doubt that pizza was shared with the person that had made you feel so light on your feet that you could glide so effortlessly along the Brooklyn sidewalk. That quick moment still had power and dripped with humanity and will stick with me.
I looked up and said it was fine and looked down. It took me a while to realize how beautiful you were. you went into driggs pizza i was going to follow you but i was kinda high. i can't believe i am posting this. this is fun. hope life is swell.
This just in from the Slice mailbag, with the subject line "pizza in CT."
Dear Slice,
So, I’m a devoted pizza addict and enjoy your website. I feel compelled to write because everyone loves an underdog and I keep seeing emails posted from people recommending Modern Apizza. Make no mistake, these are people who want to root for the underdog for the sake that they can one day say “I was a fan before they were famous”. There is no comparison to Sally’s (or Pepe’s Clam). Modern produces a nice, fresh, relatively non-distinctive wood-fired pizza. All you can say is it is good, fresh and in any other city would be fantastic. But not in New Haven.
I don’t think you’ve reached there yet and let me tell you, this is not the hidden gem that you’re being promised. It’s good, you’ll eat, but you’ll be left wanting. You’d be better hitting Luna or Harry’s in W. Hartford which is even further than NYC but at least somewhat distinctive.
You are forewarned! J
John
Bar (or tavern) pizza is an entity unto itself within the pizza realm. It's been around at least since Prohibition ended in 1933, but who knows, maybe there was a speakeasy serving pizza. It is served all over the country, although I have found a preponderance of bar pizza in New Jersey; Staten Island, New York; Chicago; and Connecticut.
What defines a bar pizzeria? They're usually family-run businesses that have been passed down from generation to generation. It's pizza served in a bar (of course), which means minors are not let in unaccompanied by adults. At Vito & Nick's on Chicago's far South Side, a sign on the door greets all perspective customers with that very message. Bar pizza is served by waiters, waitresses, and bartenders who, let's just say, have been around the pizza oven more than a few times. They may make you feel welcome, but only after sizing you up for a full minute. They usually have a twinkle in their eye that's not immediately discernible, and more than a little bit of attitude. A bar pizzeria likely has plastic tablecloths if it has any tablecloths at all. There's a good chance that the choicest tables are booths.
What is bar pizza like? It's usually very thin-crusted to (I'm guessing) leave plenty of room in the eater's stomach for beer. It's baked in a gas oven that may have replaced a coal oven if the bar is old enough. Bar pizza is made with decent, commercial, aged mozzarella and comes topped with canned mushrooms, standard pepperoni and, if you're lucky, house-made sausage. You will not find any fancy-pants ingredients or toppings in or on a bar pizza, although at the Brü Rm. at Bar in New Haven, Connecticut, they have created a yuppie, postmodern bar pizzeria that serves things like mashed-potato pizza and blonde ale. It's actually good pizza and good beer, but somehow it seems antithetical to the original idea of bar pizza.
It always becomes an issue when a highly regarded pizzeria opens a second location -- will the pies be as good at the new branch? Will production at the original branch suffer as a result of the new venture? The New York Times on the new Fairfield, Connecticut, branch of Frank Pepe's:
To the average aficionado of thin-crust pies, the chewy, somewhat salty dough dished up by Fairfield’s Frank Pepe is every bit as good as any coming out of New Haven. One reason for that is the use of a coal-fired oven, which generates far more heat than most gas or electric installations. Another, a waitress told me, is that the batter (and red sauce) is whipped up every day from scratch.
Spicing Up the Great Pizza Debate [New York Times]
Dear Slice,
If you ever make it back to New Haven, you could do a lot worse than Abate, just a little way down Wooster Street from the better known places. Always overlooked because of its famous neighbors, you won't get slow or rude service there, and the pizza is excellent. Modern is excellent also. Considered one of the big three but seemingly without all the attitude of the other two. I've had some great pizza at numerous places in the greater New Haven area. There are some mediocre places in New Haven as well, but, in general, the standard is a lot higher there.
On a totally unrelated subject, I saw someone raving about Casserta's in Providence, Rhode Island, and comparing it to the best of the best. Bleecch, I say. As a frequent visitor to Providence, I think they have a fantastic Italian section—great restaurants and salumerias to die for. But pizza? Markedly inferior. Regular slices at Casserta's were mediocre. Spinach pie is great if you enjoy a mini calzone stuffed with lots of soggy, gray-green, overcooked frozen spinach. Tried pizza at three different places in the area and was disappointed at all of them. I finally decided it was just something they didn't do well in Rhode Island (they do a lot of other things well).
—Jim H.
Dear Jim,
Thanks for the tips. Slice has been to Pepe's and Sally's the "famous neighbors" of Abate that I'm sure you're referring to. Modern Apizza has long been on our to-try list, but Abate itself is a new one for us.
As for Rhode Island, Slice hasn't been. What about Al Forno, home of grilled pizza? We've heard great things about it. Have you been?
Hasta la pizza,
Adam
Ed Levine, of Slice's parent site, Serious Eats, went to New Haven, Connecticut, on Wednesday and files this report. —The Mgmt.
WORDS BY ED LEVINE .::. Two years ago, when I was writing Pizza: A Slice of Heaven
I’ve always loved just about everything about Pepe’s—the huge oven that dominates its interior; the smart, sassy waitresses; the incomparable crust with a crisp exterior and tender interior; the tangy shower of Romano cheese that lends just the right amount of tang and saltiness to the pizza; the meaty locally sourced sausage chunks; and, of course, the incomparable clam pie, which has the perfect ratio of clams to crust. Most of all, I love the fact that Pepe’s fabulous pizza is the legacy of the hard work and perfectionism of Frank Pepe, an illiterate southern Italian immigrant who built Pepe’s with his blood, sweat, and dough. Although Frank Pepe passed away in 1969, his spirit lives on at Pepe’s in the many photographs and paintings of him that adorn the walls at the pizzeria and even the pizza boxes there.
What I discovered in those two days would have taken the smile off the face on the box. His nine descendants who collectively owned the business were at war. Things had gotten so bad they were thinking of selling or closing it. And what’s worse was that the pizza was suffering as a result of this internecine family warfare. The pies were still damn good but maddeningly inconsistent. I ended up feeling not very sanguine about Pepe's future.
And another one from Connecticut:
Pizza to me is defined largely by having the roof of my mouth burned by cheese on a slice obtained at a walk-up window somewhere along the walk from the FCC field office on Washington and Christopher Streets in Manhattan, heading down to the old Radio Row between Canal and Cortlandt streets before the WTC was built. I did this walk regularly with friends in high school in the '60s, so the comment about pizza invoking a nostalgic experience may be true!But for today's "ah-beetz," take me to Modern in Noo Haven! The plain pie with double mozz, and the white clam, is unbelievable. Better than Sally's, IMHO, and without the attitude. Way better than Pepe's (although I do need to try their white clam.) Not only the best pie, but unlike Sally's or Pepe's, you get a friendly staff and comfortable setting, nice clientele, usually a reasonable wait or no wait, great salads with anchovies, if desired, and excellent beers by the pitcher. (They're outside New Haven's Little Italy; they have to be better!) We've brought Modern takeout as fas as Albany and Martha's Vineyard for later enjoyment. It heats up great in the oven!
I certainly agree about Roseland in Derby, BTW. Definitely worth finding! —Dennis J.
Here are some tips that New York Times readers are sending in:
Next time you're planning a trip to Connecticut, don't miss a great pie (no slices) at Roseland in Derby. Great history and possibly the most expensive pizza on earth. Bring lots of money for the lobster pizza, BUT don't complain until you've eaten one! A must visit. —Jeff D.
[Roseland Apizza: 350 Hawthorne Ave., Derby CT 06418; map]Came across your site in the Times today. I know Mount Vernon is not New York City, but I saw reviews of Jersey pizzerias. Has anyone reviewed Johnny's in Mt. Vernon? I moved to Georgia two and a half years ago but had lived in Westchester all my life. I've been going to Johnny's for literally 50 years. I come back to New York frequently and eat there at least twice on any visit. I think it's awesome pie. —Harvey M. [Johnny's Pizzeria: 30 W Lincoln Ave., Mount Vernon NY 10550; map]
Harvey: Yeah. We've got mostly New York City pizza on Slice, primarily because that's where our editors live and because we hardly get away from the city. But we love to hear about pizza everywhere, in the U.S. and overseas. So recommendations for pizza anywhere are welcome.
Additionally, we first learned about Johnny's on Jeff Varasano's Famous Pizza Page. Here is a pizzeria, right under our noses and not so far away, that had completely escaped our greasy eye. It is on our list. —Ed.
Hi Adam! Went to your site when I saw the link in the New York Times article about Domino's. I couldn't believe you didn't have anything for Pizza in Connecticut!!!!! As a transplanted Noo Yawka, the one thing I found was that Connecticut has some AMAZING pizza spots!! Check it out!!! —Donna Y.
Donna: We actually do have some entries for Connecticut. We've been to Frank Pepe's (excellent clam pies, friendly service) and Sally's Apizza (great plain pies; lousy, rude service). Any other recommendations there? —Ed.
I just found your website through the New York Times article today. I wanted to recommend a fantastic pizza parlor in Brevard County, Florida, where I live. The pizza is the best in Florida; the name is Bizzarro’s, in Indialantic, Florida, owned and operated by Frank Bizzarro, whose family is originally from Naples, Italy, and who moved to Brooklyn. Frank and many of his family members now live in Brevard County (we’re south of the Space Center and Cocoa Beach). Anyway, I highly recommend the pizza. Thanks. —Leslie C. [Bizzaro Pizza: 635 Wickham Road, Indialantic FL 32904 map]
Thanks, folks! Keep the recommendations coming: adam@sliceny.com
Metro Pizza [four locations, Las Vegas NV; metropizza.com] "The pizza menu at this gourmet oasis in the desert reads like a map of regional flavors. With grilled shrimp on the New Orleans, barbecued chicken atop the Memphis and pineapple on the Honolulu, there's something for everybody...."The Cheese Board Pizza Collective [1512 Shattuck Avenue, Berkeley CA 94709; map]
" 'The Cheese Board is a collective, owned by its members, that brings sustainable agriculture to the pizza table,' Ruby says. Each day the menu, featuring a single sourdough vegetarian pizza, is decided collectively by the group...."
Pity poor Ed Levine. When his workday doesn't involve ordering one of each doughnut at a well-regarded New York City doughnuttery, he gets to eat pizza from some of the country's best pizzerias and write about it for Details magazine. His findings cover some familiar ground to readers of Slice and of Mr. Levine's 2005 book PIzza: A Slice of Heaven, but there are some new entries to be savored.
Pizzeria Bianco [623 East Adams Street, Phoenix AZ 85004; map] "The sauce tastes like a distillation of the ripest tomatoes."
Di Fara[1424 Avenue J, Brooklyn NY 11230; map] "... a Di Fara slice has a one-of-a-kind flavor."
Totonno's [1524 Neptune Ave., Brooklyn NY 11224; map] "Order the white pie, made with ricotta, mozzarella, and enough fresh garlic to ward off a roomful of vampires."
Photograph from BigGreenPizzaTruck.com
This pizza wagon one-ups any pizza truck on the streets of Manhattan. And then some:
Several years ago Douglas Coffin, a caterer in New Haven, built a portable bread oven that he planned to use at big events. When that did not work out (not cost-effective) he decided to put a wood-fired oven aboard a truck, drive to company picnics and birthday parties and make thin-crust pizzas for his clients.
The Big Green Pizza Truck
First the Pizza's Delivered. Then It's Cooked [New York Times]
Here's the American Pizzeria Timeline, which includes only two non–Pizza Belt entries, Tommaso's and Uno's:
1905: Lombardi's, on Spring Street in New York City, is granted the nation's first license to sell pizza.
1910: Joe's Tomato Pies opens in the Trenton, New Jersey, Chambersburg neighborhood.
1912: Papa's Tomato Pies in Trenton opened by Papa, who learned his trade at Joe's.
1924: Anthony (Totonno) Pero leaves Lombardi's and opens Totonno's in Coney Island, New York.
1925: Frank Pepe opens on Wooster Street in New Haven, Connecticut.
You've heard of the corn belt and the rust belt. But what about the Pizza Belt, the part of America that gave birth to what Jeffrey Steingarten calls Neapolitan-American pizza. The Pizza Belt starts in Philadelphia and runs through Trenton and the rest of New Jersey. It extends throughout New York, Long Island, and New Haven and ends in Boston. Think of it as the Interstate 95 belt, with a few detours along the way.
It was in New York that Neapolitan immigrant and grocery store owner Gennaro Lombardi was granted the nation's first Ilcense to sell pizza in 1905. Lombardi's, in turn, spawned Totonno's in 1924 and John's in 1929 and, in an apparently unrelated move, Patsy's in East Harlem in 1933. Joe's Tomato Pies opened in Trenton in 1910, followed by Papa's Tomato Pies in 1912. New Haven was next, where a Neapolitan immigrant Italian bread baker named Frank Pepe opened his eponymous Pizzeria Napoletana in 1925, followed in short order by Paul's Apizza in 1932, State Street Apizza (now called Modern Apizza) in 1934 and finally Sally's in 1938 (founded by Frank Pepe's nephew, Salvatore Consiglio). In Philadelphia, Salvatore and Chiarina Marra opened Marra's in 1927. The Tacconelli family started baking bread in their Port Richmond neighborhood in the 1920s, though they didn't start making pizza until 1946. Similarly, in East Boston, Francisco Santarpio baked bread at his eponymous bakery until Prohibition ended in 1933, when he took over the adjoining storefront and began serving pizza. Seven years before that, Anthony Polcari opened Pizzeria Regina in Boston's North End.
Why did all these pizzerias start in the same 33-year period? What did they have in common? Did Frank Pepe work at Lombardi's before moving to New Haven? Here's what we do know. There was a tremendous wave of southern Italian immigration in the late nineteenth century. These immigrants all came in through Ellis Island, and then fanned out along the Eastern Seaboard looking for work among relatives, neighbors, and friends who had come from the same area in Italy. New York, of course, was where they landed, so it made sense for a certain number of them to look for and find work there. Trenton had hundreds of thousands of manufacturing jobs and a burgeoning Itallan-American community called Chambersburg. New Haven had many factories (including Colt Industries), as well as a plethora of fishing and port-related jobs. Philadelphia (South Philly) and Boston (East Boston and the North End) both had fast-growing Italian-American communities with thriving commercial centers.
What can we conclude from all this? That the development of America's pizza culture closely followed southern Italian immigration patterns. If the southern Italians had come into this country through Duluth, Minnesota might have been known as the Land of a Thousand Pizzas.
Ed Levine is a regular contributor to the New York Times Dining section and is author of New York Eats and New York Eats More. He also maintains a blog: Ed Levine Eats. This entry is an excerpt from his book Pizza: A Slice of Heaven
Full disclosure: I know one of the authors. Mr. Ruby and I were in the same journalism program at university. Still, that didn't stop me from turning a critical eye on this book. In fact, my initial reaction when hearing about it was, "Oy! Another pizza book!? What more can be said?"
Fortunately, Penny and Jeff find plenty new to say, particularly with some interesting history and facts that, surprisingly, I haven't read elsewhere. Concerning one of Slice's favorite pizzaioli, Dom DeMarco, for example, the authors tell us that he ends each pizza-filled day by drinking a "$100 bottle of Amarone Valpolicella—he buys 1 bottle a day and 2 on Saturday because the liquor store is closed on Sunday." Who knew!? (More important, how does Dom get himself into work by 7 a.m. after drinking a bottle of fine wine post midnight?)
Q: I love your site and use it often for finding a new pie to try... I read your review for Sally's awhile back and really liked it as I've had the chance to sample their pies on more than one occasion. As far as there being reservations, there's a secret phone number that longtime customers are given after a long patronage. You can also pick up pies this way. My girlfriend's family are big Sally's devotees so I've had the pleasure of jumping the line a couple times.
Anyways, the reason I'm writing is I'm wondering what pie, in your opinion, in the New York metro area is most similar to Sally's? Especially in the crust department. I've noticed that Sally's is much thinner and more burnt than I've found in NY. Any suggestions? — D.A.
A: You've got Slice stumped there, D.A. We've never had a pie here in the New York City area that's been quite like Sally's. (And say what you will about gruff New Yorkers, we've never, ever had service here as rude as Sally's.) Let's open this one up to our readers: You all know of any place that fits the bill here? If so, leave your mark in the Comments section of this entry. — The Editors
This is the inaugural Dear Slice column. Readers with pizza questions are encouraged to write to us at adam (at) sliceny (dot) com.
dynamic duo Sally's Apizza and Frank Pepe's Pizzeria Napoletana were the two stops Slice made during the Pizza Club road trip to New Haven, Conn., on Saturday. Plenty of pizza was ordered from both venerable establishments. Above left is a large mozzarella pie from Sally's; above right, a large mozzarella pie (background) and a large white-clam pie (foreground) from Pepe's. Both pizzerias are so popular that lines form down the block, as can be seen below (Sally's left, Pepe's right).
words by Adam K. :: photographs by Adam K. and Amanda G. | When last we left you, we had just finished eating at Frank Pepe's, one of New Haven's storied pizzerias. The folks at Pepe's showed us a good time and we ate lots and lots of pizza. "Lots and lots" is an understatement. We were gorged. As in eyes bigger than stomachs. Frankly, we were worried that we wouldn't have room for Sally's Apizza, which is just a couple blocks west of Pepe's on Wooster Street. But, we figured, we'd have to wait on line at Sally's and would be hungry by the time we got in.
On line by 4:40 p.m., we waited until a few minutes after 5. That's when someone flipped the lock, opened the door, and asked, "Anyone with reservations? Come on." So there is a secret reservation system. Slice had heard from Ed Levine when we ran into him at Totonno's that there were special times you could call to get reservations, and this confirmed it. A party of 10 jumped ahead by virtue of its reservations, but since we were the second party in line, we were among the first seating of the day.
What greeted us was a charmingly rec-roomish wood-paneled dining area. With its gilt-frame photos, big comfy vinyl booths, and 1960s light fixtures, it looked like the neighborhood pub your gramps took you to when he had to watch you for the day but still wanted a beer with his buddies (think Archie Bunker's Place, or just take a gander at the photo at left). Some folks in our party felt the decor left something to be desired; this reporter felt right at home. But we weren't there for the atmosphere—we were there for the pizza, and after about 10 minutes, our waiter came over to apprise us of the daily specials and take our order.
Still stuffed from the fare at Pepe's, we figured we'd go for three medium pies: one with mozzarella (or, "mootz"), one white clam, and one from the specials menu—topped with thinly sliced potato and onion. Our waiter seemed disappointed with the order, advising us that one medium would feed two people at most and that we had a party of 10. "We've eaten a lot today. I think we'll be fine with the three mediums to start. We'll order more if we're still hungry."
Uh uh. Big no. We were told that the lag time between ordering and receiving was such that it wouldn't be prudent to employ this strategy. After a little more back and forth with the waiter on how much pizza would feed how many people, we stuck to our guns—and with our original order. To that we added a round of beers for half the table, an assortment of sodas, and water all around.
I don't know if it was at this point that our waiter deemed us less than human, but we might as well get this out of the way: If it's good service you want, you should not sally forth to Sally's Apizza. From this point on, we might as well have been dead to the staff at this place. Pizza persona non grata. Public-pizza enemies Nos. 1 through 10. You get the picture.
It was hot as the devil in the front of the dining room (you can see how sapped the gang was at right), and it took about fifteen minutes before the drinks arrived. One pitcher of water for ten folks and only eight glasses. Numerous requests for additional glasses were met with complete stonewalling at best and silent contempt at worst—all while the table of what appeared to locals behind us had no trouble getting many rounds of orange sodas. At one point, one of our normally mild-mannered pizza club members grumbled, "This goddam pizza better be f**kin' good, 'cause this goddam service f**kin' sucks."
Did I mention it was hot in there? The weird thing was that when you ventured to the curiously secure bathrooms, it was icy cold near the oven. (They must use the majority of the aircon power to keep the kitchen staff comfortable at the expense of the patrons.)
But enough grumbling. The pizza was sublime. The mozz pie (above) was consistently thin and crisp and gained an interesting texture from a scattering of cornmeal on the bottom. We imagine Sally's uses the cornmeal to keep the pie from sticking to the peel as they slide it into the oven. Absent were the puffy doughy regions that were evident at Pepe's. A member of our group said he thought that Pepe's was great New Haven pizza, but that this pie was like "gourmet New Haven pizza—a notch above." As at Pepe's, it seemed the oil had again separated from the cheese and had helped almost "fry" it on top, turning it golden-brownish orange (above and right).
The clam pie, too, was good, but consensus was that Pepe's, with its whole clams, was better. And the potato-and-onion pie was delicious—crisp on the bottom (crust) and top (thinly sliced potato) and spiked with rosemary and oregano.
After eating, we were eager to leave. It was just too hot, we were too stuffed, and we were tired from digesting the copious amount of clams, cheese, and crust in our stomachs. Again, it was next to impossible to get the waiter's attention. We eventually had to get up and grab someone to come bring us the check, but not after we considered trying the old dine and dash. I mean, heck, they weren't paying attention to us anyway, so why not? But we at Slice are upstanding citizens, and we settled up what we owed and left without incident.
It was at that point that the Cat Price guys came by, camera in hand, to get our thoughts on the experience. In a nutshell: Pepe's for clam pies, Sally's for mozz; Pepe's for friendly welcoming service, Sally's if you want to feel like a Republican delegate in New York City for the GOP convention (or a New York–pizza advocate in New Haven).
dynamic duo Frank Pepe's Pizzeria Napoletana and Sally's Apizza were the two stops Slice made during the Pizza Club road trip to New Haven, Conn., on Saturday. Plenty of pizza was ordered from both venerable establishments. Above left is a large mozzarella pie (background) and a large white-clam pie (foreground) from Pepe's; above right is a large mozzarella pie from Sally's. Both pizzerias are so popular that lines form down the block, as can be seen below (Pepe's left, Sally's right).
words by Adam K. :: photographs by Adam K. and Amanda G. | Three cars. Seventy-nine point nine miles. Ten people. Two pizzerias. Nine pies. One hundred and twenty-some dollars. That's the Slice New Haven trip by the numbers.
We left Greenpoint, Brooklyn, at 12:30 p.m. Saturday and arrived at Wooster Street, home to New Haven's famous Frank Pepe's and Sally's Apizza, around 3 p.m. We were there to try New Haven–style pie, which only a few among us had had before. We'd heard that the pizza in this seaside Connecticut town was as good as, if not better than, New York's best and we wanted to try for ourselves. Our plan was to get hit Frank Pepe's around 2 p.m., eat some pie, take some photos, talk to some folks, and then get out and get in line at Sally's Apizza by 4:30 p.m. for the joint's 5 p.m. opening. (A kind reader had tipped us that we needed to be outside Sally's by that time to get in for the first seating of the day.)
We arrived a little later than planned and got on line at Pepe's around 3:15 p.m. After a 15-minute wait, we were in. The short wait gave Seltzerboy and I a chance to talk to filmmakers Michael Dorian and Joe dos Santos (left, from left) of Cat Price Productions. The pair were shooting video for a documentary about pizza and were in New Haven killing two birds with one stone—documenting Pepe's and talking to Slice editors.
The prospect of appearing on the silver screen was appealing, but we were hungry, and our table was ready. We crammed eight people (two would show up about 15 minutes later and take a second table) into a long booth and were greeted by Donna (right), our superfriendly waitress. Donna welcomed us to Pepe's and was more patient with us than we probably deserved, what with us getting up, taking photos, wandering around to look at the enormous kitchen and gigantic oven, and asking tons of questions. Her down-to-earth charm was the first of many differences between Pepe's and Sallys, but more on that later. We were relieved to see her remove the "No Clam Pies Available Today" sign from the door soon after we sat down. This is New Haven, afterall; clam pies are said to have been invented here, and we had to sample one at each place.
We ordered three large pizzas. One white (no sauce) clam pie, one with mushrooms, and one with mozzarella. Now in New York, we'd call that a "plain" pie. But New Haven ain't New York, and when we ordered a "plain" pie, Donna asked us, "What do you mean by 'plain'? 'Plain' here is just red sauce with a sprinkling of Parmesan, flavored with garlic and oregano." Hence we ordered "one with mozzarella." But the New Haven–style plain pie sounded good too, so we ordered a small one (left foreground; in the background, Seltzerboy holds a mozzarella slice, crust-side up to show the camera the tasty bits of charring from the coal-fired oven).
One of the main differences between New Haven and New York pizza is the crust. While still a thin crust, it's a little thicker and doughier than New York–style. Second is the sauce-and-cheese balance; New Haven pie seems to run a little heavier on the sauce. At Pepe's, this wasn't a bad thing, as the pizzeria's mixture had an exceptionally fresh tangy tomatoey taste. Nor was it a problem at Sally's, but the sauce didn't seem as, well, peppy. Third is that both New Haven places seemed to leave the pies in long enough that the oil separated from the cheese, rose to the top of the pie, and almost seemed to "fry" the mozzarella, giving it a mottled golden-brown color. These factors were true of both Pepe's and Sally's and are visible in the pie shown at right, which is from Sally's.
But, back to Pepe's. The pies arrived about 20 minutes after ordering. We found out that "large" was an understatement. They were huge, oblong, roughly 20-inch-diameter pies cut into numerous irregularly sized slices (see photos at top for an idea). The crust among all the large pies was pretty consistent: crisp, chewy, and light with a golden-brown bottom with evidence of the tell-tale coal-oven char here and there. It was doughy almost like bread and had a nice salty taste that complemented the tangy fresh tomato sauce. While consistent among pies, the crust thickness varied from superthin to puffy thick on each pie, often becoming puffiest at the end crust, resulting in "too much empty real estate for my taste," as Amanda G. noted. (See the photo at left, just above; the slice on the left illustrates the puffy lost-real-estate concept.) Even in these spots, though, the worst that happens is that you end up eating what "tastes like really good Cosi bread," as pizza-clubber Joe D. put it.
With such a large group, opinion was all over the place, but the mushroom pie was the unanimous last-place finisher. The mushrooms were rubbery and looked like they might have been the canned variety. Though not everyone's favorite, the top pie was the white clam. With fresh whole clams (below left) cooked perfectly, it was more about what the clams weren't—they weren't rubbery or too "clammy" tasting and didn't leave a bad aftertaste as low-quality clams often do.
classic fare Must-have dishes at Pepe's are the white-clam pie (above left) and the mozzarella pie (above right). A portrait of Frank Pepe (below right) hangs on a wall at his restaurant.
Slice correspondent Tien Mao inquired as to the origins of the clam pie and was told that Frank Pepe himself came up with the idea as a lark. The local fishermen in New Haven always had bushels of clams on hand, and Mr. Pepe had the idea of putting them on pizza. After baking one up, he was surprised it worked and hence the clam pie was born. By the time we left Pepe's (around 4:15 p.m.), we were told that Pepe's had gone through six bushels of clams since opening at 11:30 a.m. I had to look up how big a bushel was, and it's 35.239 liters. Six bushels equals roughly 223 quarts, or about 56 gallons (give or take some for dry-weight/liquid-measure discrepancies).
Want another amazing number? How about 500 pies a day? That's roughly how many we were told came out of Pepe's enormous oven. On a Saturday, that's 1.33 pies every minute. And the oven is more than capable of handling this volume. Perhaps one of the most striking things about Pepe's is its gargantuan oven with gigantic prep area and oarlike pizza peels to match.
carrying coal to new haven The beast above is the oven at Pepe's. That's not a wall with an oven built in. That whole thing is the oven. One worker is using what appeared to be a vacuum cleaner to sweep out dusting flour while another sweeps up what looked like ashes. OK, now see the photo below right? See that wooden stick running parallel with the counter? That's the handle of a pizza peel. That handle is the depth of the oven. Did I not say the oven was big?
The oven floored us all. The pizza peels were long. We're talking looooooong. So long that the board end of the paddle rested on a special shelf bulit into the oven wall and the handle then extended upward at a 45-degree angle and rested on a hook built into the ceiling (see Joe Schumacher's post, fifth photo, for reference). At one point, the pizzaiolo at the oven opened the coal door (see Tien's sixth photo) and you could feel the heat from about 25 feet away.
This oven, however, is not the original. Don't get me wrong. It's as old as it looks—circa 1936—but the original oven, and the original Pepe's, is just around the corner. Called "The Spot," this original location, established in 1925, was so popular that Pepe's had to expand in 1936 to the building we've documented here. The original building's coal-fired oven dates to the 1880s.
After eating, Slice met Gary Bimonte, Mr. Pepe's grandson and a co-owner and manager of the place. Mr. Bimonte, who was as welcoming as his wait staff, related bits of Pepe's history, noting that the place has served presidents Reagan and Clinton (Bill really likes the pizza, huh?) and that it was once slated to host Hillary but the Secret Service nixed it ("Too many rooftops around here," Mr. Bimonte said, "We ended up catering that one off-site").
All total, we dropped $100 at Pepe's—including tip—for the four pies, two pitchers of beers, and one bottle of diet birch beer. We estimate that Greg and Mike at the second table spent about $16. That $12.50 per person bought so much food that we were stuffed long before we even made it to Sally's Apizza, just down the street. What about Sally's, you ask? More to come later today ...
For now, click through to the jump to see photo outtakes from the day.
A HAVEN FOR PIZZA LOVERS Frank Pepe (left) of Frank Pepe's and the crew at Sally's Apizza (right). These New Haven, Connecticut, pizzerias are said to rival (some even say surpass) New York City's legacy pizzerias.
Newsflash!: Today marks the start of the weeklong New Haven [Connecticut] Pizza Fest. We have yet to try Frank Pepe's or Sally's Appiza, but have heard nothing but good. For those in or near New Haven, or anyone curious about that city's pizza, maybe now is the time to go.
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