Angelo's on 57th –
*1/2
I wanted Angelo’s to be great. It‘s located only a few blocks away from my job, and it was the first place we few, we proud, we Pizza Questers hit. While I’d love to tell you that the Quest got off to an auspicious start, that lives were changed, taste buds enthralled, pizza enjoyed, all this, unfortunately, was not so. Five of us sampled two pies (one plain, one half pepperoni/half sausage), and were unimpressed. This was, even early on in the quest, judged to be severely substandard pizza. Though made in a coal oven, the crust was thick and doughy, not thin and crispy, and exhibited no signs of charring or blistering. The sauce was weirdly pasty and overly sweet. The mozzarella, while fresh, was merely okay. Cheers to: fresh basil on the pies (fresh basil, I’ve realized, makes me happy all out of proportion to its actual worth), sausage removed from its casing and crumbled on the pizza. Jeers to: everything else, frankly.
Patsy's in East Harlem –
The good time: ****
The bad times: **1/2
Eight of us made the trip to East Harlem to eat at the original Patsy's. First the stats:
Round One:
1 - Plain Mozzarella
2 - Fresh Mozzarella
Round Two:
3 - Pepperoni and sausage (fresh mozz)
4 - Fresh Garlic (fresh mozz)
Round Three (The dessert pizza):
5 - All peppers (sweet, fresh, red) and black olives, half with Portobello mushrooms (plain mozz)
Yep, that's right, five pies for eight people, eaten over about two hours.
Reaction: The crust was incredibly thin, charred and nicely blistered, light and crisp (some found it a little too thin, I wasn't one of them). The fresh mozzarella was terrific, the plain (meaning: aged) mozzarella (which I favored, slightly) was also excellent, a little chewy, with a nice tanginess. The sauce, according to our waiter Victor, "is just what comes outta the can, crushed tomatoes with a little basil that's in there," was simple and excellent (similar to Nick's). The sausage and pepperoni was a nice combo, the pepperoni spicy and thin, the sausage thicker and a little sweet. The fresh garlic, perhaps surprisingly, might've been the favorite (little globs of garlic that seemed to have been soaked in olive oil). The veggie pies (Victor: "You ain't gonna find Portobello mushroom in any other pizzeria in this city.") were excellent, although the toppings proved a bit too much for the crust (just barely). This is truly great pizza.
Highlight of the evening (besides the pizza), our waiter Victor, who liked telling us what to eat, the history of the ownership of the name, his favorite color. When he brought the final pie out, and saw that two of the ladies with us wouldn't be joining in, he berated them lightly, "We have three guys who come in here and eat a whole pie each of them. It's so thin..." before turning thoughtful and forgiving them, "You did have a lot of toppings." He gave us the history of the place ("Sinatra used to have pies flown out to California, Vegas from here."), told us that the other Patsy's in Manhattan don't have a coal oven and aren't owned by the same people, ("They pay a licensing fee."), and that the owner forced Grimaldi's to change its name from Patsy's when they started opening pizzerias in Jersey ("They said, 'You can have Brooklyn, okay, but you can't open up places in Jersey.'" Why was Jersey too much? I don't know.).
Update: I’m sad to say that the next two times I went to Patsy’s (both on Sundays), I was disappointed. The service was spotty, pies showed up after having sat for too long (meaning: not hot enough, and not nearly as crispy as they need to be), and the pies themselves were nothing to write home about (the outer crust on one of them was downright weird looking – as if it had ripped and then been squeezed back together). C’mon, Patsy’s, you’re better than that.
V&T’s Pizzeria in Morningside Heights –
*
As the four of us made our way out of V&T's Pizzeria in Morningside Heights, we were stopped by a homeless fellow who bummed a cigarette and then proceeded to rattle off vague and creepily memorized horoscopes based on our birth months. The salient part of mine (or, rather, the only part I understood and retained) is that I am smart. This made me feel better, as I've been called an idiot more than once since starting the Pizza Quest. Seriously, would someone who wasn't abominably stupid in some fundamental way devote a significant part of his time to compiling a list of pizzas, eating at them, and writing them up? Better not to think of it. Better to believe Homeless Guy. Then, again, Homeless Guy did refer to the well-dressed white man who entered V&T's as we finally broke away, as "Billy Dee Williams." He, clearly, is not the most perceptive human being in the world.
Anyway, the pizza. The crust was thick, but crisped (in an almost "fried" way) that was kind of pleasant. The sauce was neither sweet nor fresh tasting, and the cheese (plain mozzarella) was ample and inoffensive. The toppings were terrible. The pepperoni was oily and tasteless, with no nice pepperoni "bite." The fresh garlic had the unpleasant taste of pre-minced garlic (y'know the jar you buy at the store type, meaning: not actually fresh-tasting). The fried eggplant, though considered the specialty, was bland and added little to the pizza except bulk and chewiness. On the (very, very small) plus side: the crust did stand up to all the toppings. Why this pizza is rated highly by anyone is beyond me; it’s boring pizza (made less boring by the fact that they serve Peroni). It was really just a notch above the slice you'd grab in an average NY parlor...bland, doughy and a little-too-sweet without the toppings. With the toppings, it might actually be a notch below.
Sal and Carmine's on B’way and 102nd –
*1/2
Six of us made it to Sal and Carmine's (recently named the number one slice joint in Manhattan by the Post), on Broadway and 102nd. We ordered two pies (one plain, one half-pepperoni/half-sausage), and took them over to Riverside Park -- as 1) the place was tiny and 2) they wouldn't let us drink there. While being accosted by one particularly aggressive squirrel, we consumed two severely underwhelming pies. They weren't bad...they just weren't great. They were in the vein of a regular New York slice (not necessarily a problem, Louie and Ernie's is as well), with a thicker crust than Patsy's, et al., a thick layer of cheese, and a sweet, cooked tomato sauce. The biggest problem was in the doughy, floury crust. This led Tara to posit that the reason our pies weren't great, was because Sal and Carmine's is a "slice place," meaning that when the pizza sits out and then when is reheated, something happens. Intrigued, but unconvinced, I ordered a plain slice to test the hypothesis...and the slice was much, much better. Much crispier, with slight browning on parts of the cheese. It was just plain better, and so I say: Tara, you were right – but it’s still not great.
Totonno's on 2nd Ave. and 26th –
Not to be confused with Totonno’s on Coney Island
**1/2
Before I reached this offshoot of the original Coney island Totonno's on Friday night, I had been alternately fantasizing about a place in Manhattan that makes pizza as good as the original and forcing myself to lower my expectations (usually by thinking about the lackluster pies served up at DiFara's offshoot De Marco's). When I got there, however, I saw something that made my heart soar (yep, soar): "Coal-fired Brick Oven." I could barely believe the sign, but when I looked in the window, there it was. A big, glowing pile of coal heating the pizza oven. So, everyone arrived, we ordered, and we ate. And it was good. Just good. The best take was (I believe) Brendan's: "The top of this pizza is great." He was right. The cheese (fresh mozzarella) and sauce were delicious, the crust of the pies (one plain, one half garlic and sausage/half pepperoni) was merely okay. The rim of the crust was downright unspectacular. I actually left pieces of crust on my plate. We all enjoyed our meal (the pitchers of beer helped), but I couldn't help but be disappointed. A coal oven is supposed to make great pizza, dammit! And yet it keeps not happening.
Sacco’s Pizzeria, 9th Ave. and 54th St. –
**1/2
To be honest, the pizza quest hasn’t hit Sacco’s, but I feel like mentioning it, so, umm I am. This is the most modest of the pizzerias, a tiny joint with a counter and a couple of tables. The first time I walked up to I was both repulsed by and attracted to it…repulsed because it is almost literally a hole in the wall, attracted because there was a good line of people ordering pizza. So, what did I find when I confronted this line? A really great New York slice of pizza. The plain is just plain ol’ good – very thin, a little crisp, nice tart tomato sauce, and a tasty aged mozzarella. It’s something in the vein of Joe’s on Carmine (though just barely not as good), but with smaller slices and less facility with add-ons (my advice: keep it simple, go plain, ignore toppings and the Sicilian). In the midst of coal vs. wood and salami vs. prosciutto, Sacco’s is a simple New York slice that tastes just right.
PINCH - Park Ave. b/w 28th and 29th -
*1/2
I ran in one night and grabbed a slice...or, uh, quadrangle or whatever the appropriate pizza unit would be to describe six inches of pizza thing (PINCH stands for "Pizza by the Inch," so you order a number of inches off of a big slab of pizza). Dude. This is not good pizza. The crust was insubstantial (not thin - weirdly airy and fall apart-y), there was too much damn cheese, and the sauce was weirdly sweet. I finished it and thought, "That's the best Ellio's pizza I've ever eaten." If I were in a more charitable mood, I might try to spin that as a compliment. Feh.
Sullivan Street Bakery (Hell's Kitchen location) - 47th St. b/w 10th and 11th -
**** (but it doesn't matter)
The bread at Sullivan Street Bakery is one of my favorite foodstuffs in the world. And so is the pizza. The pizza -- thin, crispy, and square, served room temperature with no mozzarella -- is made out of deliciousness. They offer only a few varieties, but all of them are excellent. The potato and rosemary is my favorite (the thin sliced potato gets crispy around the edges and tender in the center), followed by the marinara (tomato sauce, and, err, that's about it). The problem is that while amazing, these slices don't scratch my pizza itch. Meaning, if I think to myself, "I could go for a slice," a slice of Sullivan St. pizza won't satisfy me half as well as the crappiest slice from Mr. Super Crappy, himself, Famous Ray. It depresses me to say that, but I still love you, Sullivan Street Bakery. Please don't be mad at me.
Mariella's - 8th Ave. b/w 56th & 57th -
*
Oprah's friend Gayle was sent on a quest for the best pizza in America. She went to three places - first, the one she went to in college, second, what is oftentimes called the best pizza in the US (Pizzeria Bianco in Phoenix, AZ) , and third, Mariella's Pizzeria in New York (at the suggestion of her driver). This was a quest in the same way that purchasing boneless chicken cutlets is hunting. I'd had Mariella's a couple times and had literally no memory of it, so I decided to give it another chance. This is far from great pizza. In fact, it might not even be good pizza. The sauce was way too sweet and had too much oregano in it. The crust was tough and chewy. The cheese blanketed the pizza completely. Actually, blanket is too gentle a description. The cheese suffocated the pizza like a plastic bag. I also got a white slice (mozzarella and riccotta) and it was even worse. Bland riccotta and that layer of mozzarella without even bad sauce to break things up. There are several better pizzerias within a five block radius (John's on 58th, Sacco's on 8th, even the two Angelo's -- one on Broadway and one on 57th), let alone the entire city. While people having irrational love for a pizza place is nothing unusual (*cough*salandcarmines*cough*), this is particularly disappointing because Oprah's word carries, I hear, some weight. And so, Oprah viewers will come to New York. And those tourists will go to Mariella's. And they will think that's what good, NY pizza tastes like. Don't believe the Oprah-generated hype.
Totonno's - 2nd Ave. b/w 80th and 81st St. -
**1/2
Tara and I had nearly the same experience at the uptown Totonno's as at the 23rd St. location. We ordered a half-plain/half-sausage-and-garlic and it was good, but not great. It's like a blurry photocopy of the original in Coney Island. The same kinds of tastes - - coal oven, good cooked sauce, fresh mozz, same taste to the crust. Yep, it's the same kind of pizza (Genus: Totonnus), but not charred enough, and just not plain ol' amazing enough (Species: Underwelmicum). As a bonus, they do have signs up making fun of the pizzeria next door that sells pizza by weight. I can't remember them exactly, but it's sort of like, "Why the hell would you buy pizza by weight?" Okay, I'm exaggerating. Slightly.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Pizza Quest: Queens
Nick's in Forest Hills –
**
Eric and I ordered a half plain/half pepperoni (fresh mozzarella). While a huge step above Angelo's (very fresh mozzarella, nice, bright tomato sauce, fresh basil), the crust wasn't quite there. Though charred and blistered, it wasn't crispy enough (from hell's heart, I stab at thee, zoning restrictions on coal ovens!), and, frankly, there was too much of it (toppings ended way too close to the center of the pie...I like crust and all, but c'mon). Happiness: Cheap beer. Split decision on: The pepperoni. It was too damn thick for me, and reminded me of the pepperoni "chunks" one finds on a frozen pizza. Eric didn't mind it, but, then again, he's an ignorant savage.
Thirty-One in Astoria –
Pizza: **
Other Pizza-like thing: ***
I was afraid I'd tricked everyone (including myself) into a crazy, two-hour subway ride into some desolate warehouse district in Queens, but it was only half hour to a commercial area in Astoria (Hooray for geography!). I'd been expecting something along the lines of a cliched trattoria (murals, miniature replicas of Michelangelo's "David," Venetian plaster, etc.), but instead we were confronted with something that looked like, umm, Pax ("But I don't want to 'Make my own salad.'"). After a minute of confusion, we were led to the back of the restaurant - a sparsely decorated dining room with wine bottles and photographs on display and no murals (It did have a killer soundtrack - including a Spanish language version of the Laura Branigan number "Gloria"). We wound up eating four pies among us (even the large pies were fairly small). Two were "regular" pizza. Meaning: crust, sauce, cheese, toppings (in that order), and were good, but not exceptional (we had one Margherita and one with sausage, peppers, and onions). The sauce on both pies was an excellent "plain" sauce (barely cooked, crushed tomatoes), the cheese was a pretty good fresh mozzarella. The Margherita came with plenty of fresh basil and a crust that, while tasty, didn't really stand up to the toppings (knives and forks made an appearance). The "busy" pie's crust, weirdly, held up much better. There was a split decision on the sausage (I liked the fact that it was somewhat plain, with a nice pork flavor; Jorge was unimpressed).
The other two pies caused some debate. Though listed as "Foccacia," they were not the greasy, doughy type I think of, but something closer to a split and stuffed Roman-style pizza bianca. The first one we had was this airy, crispy crust stuffed with robiola cheese and drizzled with truffle oil (we badgered our waiter to give us something to compare robiola to when we ordered, but he would not. The closest analog is cream cheese - but not as dense, gummy, or overpowering). It was delicious, rich and oozing with cheese. The second one added prosciutto and arugula. Also delicious, though Matt said the cheese and truffle oil were so strong that it overpowered the additions; I disagreed. And now the debate: Does this count as pizza (someone derisively threw out the word "quesadilla")? It was round, flat, it was bread, it had Italian ingredients in it (but not on it)...eh? My feeling: If Chicago counts, so does this...but it doesn't count as "New York Pizza."
Random things: 1 - While the menu says "wood-burning" the prominently located oven is clearly gas. The good news is that it appears to be ceramic and the temperature display said it was over 650 degrees inside. This is a good hundred degrees hotter than a standard pizza oven (and a good hundred or two hundred degrees cooler than a coal-fired one). 2 - The pizzas on display in the front are Roman-style, meaning, long oval pies sold by the inch...the pies we got when we sat down was your standard round ones. 3 - On the subway, the PR guy for the restaurant heard us discussing the place, and gave us business cards on which he scribbled his initials. He claims we'll be able to get free wine with them if we go back (digression: the wine selection was small, but very reasonably priced). While I'd like free wine, I'd kind of prefer that he was just a crazy person who stole a bunch of business cards from the restaurant. We'll see.
Update: Thirty-one was gutted by a fire shortly after we ate there, which is terrible. I include the review, because (apparently) the same food can be had at Da Ciro in Manhattan.
**
Eric and I ordered a half plain/half pepperoni (fresh mozzarella). While a huge step above Angelo's (very fresh mozzarella, nice, bright tomato sauce, fresh basil), the crust wasn't quite there. Though charred and blistered, it wasn't crispy enough (from hell's heart, I stab at thee, zoning restrictions on coal ovens!), and, frankly, there was too much of it (toppings ended way too close to the center of the pie...I like crust and all, but c'mon). Happiness: Cheap beer. Split decision on: The pepperoni. It was too damn thick for me, and reminded me of the pepperoni "chunks" one finds on a frozen pizza. Eric didn't mind it, but, then again, he's an ignorant savage.
Thirty-One in Astoria –
Pizza: **
Other Pizza-like thing: ***
I was afraid I'd tricked everyone (including myself) into a crazy, two-hour subway ride into some desolate warehouse district in Queens, but it was only half hour to a commercial area in Astoria (Hooray for geography!). I'd been expecting something along the lines of a cliched trattoria (murals, miniature replicas of Michelangelo's "David," Venetian plaster, etc.), but instead we were confronted with something that looked like, umm, Pax ("But I don't want to 'Make my own salad.'"). After a minute of confusion, we were led to the back of the restaurant - a sparsely decorated dining room with wine bottles and photographs on display and no murals (It did have a killer soundtrack - including a Spanish language version of the Laura Branigan number "Gloria"). We wound up eating four pies among us (even the large pies were fairly small). Two were "regular" pizza. Meaning: crust, sauce, cheese, toppings (in that order), and were good, but not exceptional (we had one Margherita and one with sausage, peppers, and onions). The sauce on both pies was an excellent "plain" sauce (barely cooked, crushed tomatoes), the cheese was a pretty good fresh mozzarella. The Margherita came with plenty of fresh basil and a crust that, while tasty, didn't really stand up to the toppings (knives and forks made an appearance). The "busy" pie's crust, weirdly, held up much better. There was a split decision on the sausage (I liked the fact that it was somewhat plain, with a nice pork flavor; Jorge was unimpressed).
The other two pies caused some debate. Though listed as "Foccacia," they were not the greasy, doughy type I think of, but something closer to a split and stuffed Roman-style pizza bianca. The first one we had was this airy, crispy crust stuffed with robiola cheese and drizzled with truffle oil (we badgered our waiter to give us something to compare robiola to when we ordered, but he would not. The closest analog is cream cheese - but not as dense, gummy, or overpowering). It was delicious, rich and oozing with cheese. The second one added prosciutto and arugula. Also delicious, though Matt said the cheese and truffle oil were so strong that it overpowered the additions; I disagreed. And now the debate: Does this count as pizza (someone derisively threw out the word "quesadilla")? It was round, flat, it was bread, it had Italian ingredients in it (but not on it)...eh? My feeling: If Chicago counts, so does this...but it doesn't count as "New York Pizza."
Random things: 1 - While the menu says "wood-burning" the prominently located oven is clearly gas. The good news is that it appears to be ceramic and the temperature display said it was over 650 degrees inside. This is a good hundred degrees hotter than a standard pizza oven (and a good hundred or two hundred degrees cooler than a coal-fired one). 2 - The pizzas on display in the front are Roman-style, meaning, long oval pies sold by the inch...the pies we got when we sat down was your standard round ones. 3 - On the subway, the PR guy for the restaurant heard us discussing the place, and gave us business cards on which he scribbled his initials. He claims we'll be able to get free wine with them if we go back (digression: the wine selection was small, but very reasonably priced). While I'd like free wine, I'd kind of prefer that he was just a crazy person who stole a bunch of business cards from the restaurant. We'll see.
Update: Thirty-one was gutted by a fire shortly after we ate there, which is terrible. I include the review, because (apparently) the same food can be had at Da Ciro in Manhattan.
Pizza Quest: The Bronx
Tosca, Throgg’s Neck, the Bronx –
*1/2
I had high hopes. High, high hopes. Tosca, built (it seems) on the remains of an old bakery in the Bronx is the only coal-oven pizzeria in the borough (it’s actually a full-fledged Italian restaurant). High hopes. They were dashed. Tosca, which has a kind of silly “modern” fanciness to it (“No, you’re not freezing your ass off in the Bronx, you’re in a vaguely cheesy restaurant in Miami…Miami….Miami….”). Now, it isn’t bad pizza – Tara and I got a white pie and a margherita pie – but it wasn’t great. The crust, which should be a thing of beauty if it’s coming out of a coal oven, was dry and brittle. The cheese (fresh mozz) was pretty good as was the sauce…but, meh. Again, it seems, a coal oven is nice, but skill, care, and a good recipe are more important.
Full Moon, Giovanni’s and Café al Mercato on Arthur Avenue, the Bronx –
Full Moon: *1/2
Giovanni’s: *
Café al Mercato: **
I hadn't felt the need to take my father's criticisms of the Pizza Quest™ to heart ("You're an idiot," "I can't believe you're still doing this," "Seriously, you're an idiot."), but on Saturday he raised a valid question. You see, he called, and when he found I had a cold, suggested that I stay in bed all day. When I informed him that, no, I was heading to Arthur Avenue to eat pizza he argued, "With a head cold? You can't trust the results of this. You have a cold, you won't taste anything." It was, I admit, a dilemma. The plans had been set in motion, but I wasn't in top form. Should I encourage the group to continue on without me? Should I take special care to discount my opinion and let others dictate the e-mail?
In the end, I decided thusly: I lived off Arthur Avenue and ate at these places for five years, what I can’t taste I’ll fake.
Full Moon (one pie, half-plain/half-pepperoni)
A doughy-but-tasty crust, with cornmeal on the bottom, was, really, the highlight of the pizza (the cheese, sauce, and pepperoni, was all just “good.”). Frankly, that's all I've got. Never was there so much shrugging when confronted with a pie, until we headed to...
Giovanni's (one pie, half-margherita/half-sausage)
Another lackluster pie, without even a crust to be happy about. Though we ordered a pie with fresh mozz, we didn't think that would be literal. Meaning: It was basically a regular pie with a couple pieces of fresh mozz thrown on top of the aged mozz. The sausage was unique in that it was cut lengthwise into very thin strips. Everyone was basically saying, "Meh," when the check arrived. That one pie cost almost $30. Add in a couple $4.00 beers, and you have perhaps the most expensive and least satisfying pizza on the list.
In between the two places we stopped in Cafe al Mercato, where we split a slice of their "sort-of-Sicilian" pizza. Not nearly as doughy as regular Sicilian, topped first with a thick layer of mozz (fresh, but not great), and then a simple crushed-tomato sauce. It tasted and smelled heavily of oil and was, by far, the most enjoyable pizza of the day.
But it wasn't really NY pizza, and so it is, in my opinion, a shame that "New York's Real Little Italy" as the Bronx Tourism Board hawks it, doesn't have any "Real New York Style Pizza." It’s got some pretty good slices, but nothing to go out of your way for, unfortunately. My advice: If you take a trip to Arthur Ave. bypass Full Moon and Giovanni's, and spend the day grazing, moving from shop to shop buying bread, ravioli, sausage, and other assorted goodies (we had some raw clams on the street, and I bought a dried mozzarella with fresh butter in the middle – that's right, cheese with butter in it, a combo I hope will be as self evidently brilliant to future generations as peanut butter and jelly is to our own), before winding up at one of the decent-to-excellent Italian restaurants in the neighborhood.
Mario's on Arthur Ave., the Bronx –
***1/2
Our last trip to Arthur Avenue ended in disappointment. One of us got a parking ticket, all of us felt like we'd been had by the claims of great pizza in the Bronx's Little Italy. But, we returned, and ate some very good pizza at Mario's. The weird thing about Mario's (besides the decor that hasn't changed since 1952, and the pictures of semi-celebrities hanging up, and our waiter who bore an eerie resemblance to Vince Vaughan, and the photocopied reviews present at the table and, and, and) is that they don't really want you to eat pizza there. While all the reviews hanging up make mention of the fantastic pizza, the menu claims that only an "appetizer pizza" exists. I quizzed the waiter. Waiter (Vince Vaughan): "You can have pizza as a meal before 4:30. After that you can only have it as an appetizer. I don't make the rules, so don't blame me. In my opinion though [beat] this is the best pizza in the country. I'm serious." While I wouldn't go that far, this was some seriously good pizza, probably the best I've had in the Bronx. We ordered two pies (they were delivered with just the right amount of time between them), one plain (at Vince's urging) with aged mozzarella, one with fresh mozz - half-pepperoni/half-garlic. The cheese was extremely good on both, the crust was excellent - crisp and light but still substantial, the sauce was pleasantly tart and simple, the garlic was in the form of gigantic half-cloves. Extremely, extremely good pizza. Except for the pepperoni; very thin slices with almost no bite that dribbled unpleasant oil over their half of the pie. Afterwards, a walk through the market, a visit to the cheese store, some pastries and coffee at Egidio's. In other words: an extremely pleasant day. Just be sure to get started before 4:30.
Update: Went back to have pizza at 2:30 on a Sunday. We were told we’d have to order something else. We got fried calamari. It was really damn good, but the whole thing is just insane.
Louie and Ernie's in Pelham Bay, the Bronx –
***
Matt Devoe and I went to Louie and Ernie's (which had recently been crowned the best in the Bronx by the Post). We ordered a half garlic/half sausage (plain mozz). It has a thicker crust than Patsy's or Johnny's, with no charring, and some chewiness (in a good way). The nicely crisp crust stood up to the massive amount of sausage on it. There was a good, fairly thick layer of mozzarella, smaller pieces of garlic spread evenly over the pizza (Matt prefers these little pieces, I prefer the big chunks). The sausage was amazingly good (out of the casing, nice and sweet). It was very good pizza in the "standard New York slice" vein. Regrets: I didn't save room for one of the calzones they were deep frying (deep frying!) a few feet away from us. Strangeness: It's not the prettiest girl at the dance and is located in the basement floor of a house – we saw feet and a lawnmower from our table. Ambience be damned!
It should be noted that neither Johnny’s in Mt. Vernon nor Louie and Ernie’s have a coal oven, and yet both make very good to excellent pies, whereas the coal oven pies at Arturo's and Angelo's were both deeply unsatisfying. Perhaps the idea that coal ovens are necessary for great NY-style pizza is nothing more than a myth?
Update: Returned and ate one of those fried calzones. Have one. The dough gets sweet and oily…like eating a ricotta filled zepoli. That’s a good thing, in case you were wondering.
Louis Seafood Restaurant, Throgg’s Neck, the Bronx –
*1/2
That's right, it says seafood there in the name, but, according to a couple of guys from Throgg’s Neck, it serves the best pizza in the Bronx (you can request the style of pizza: thin crust, well done, crispy. Thicker, medium-well, etc.). According to me: not so much. It was merely okay. It was close in style to Sal and Carmine's with a thick layer of brown, bubbling cheese over a "cooked" sauce and a fairly thick crust; the sauce was enjoyable, with a pleasantly heavy amount of oregano. The crust, unfortunately, was the pizza's downfall, winding up hard, dry, and chewy. If in the area, just go to Louie and Ernie's (it's five blocks away, fer godsakes).
Patricia’s Pizza and Pasta, Morris Park, the Bronx –
**1/2
If there’s been one constant in the pizza we’ve eaten on the quest, it’s that there’s an unspoken and (pretty much) universally understood cheese to sauce ratio somewhere out there, a platonic ideal every pie man naturally aims for and usually hits. It just is. When you order a “plain” (or a “cheese” or a “Margherita”), whether it’s cooked with coal, wood, or gas, whether it’s cheap or expensive…you’re getting a baseline amount of sauce and a complimentary amount of cheese (there’s wiggle room, but y’know what I mean). The Margherita at Patricia’s is the first pizza place we’ve gone to that seems to have unilaterally decided to call the whole delicate balance of cheese, sauce, and crust into question. It comes with a blanket of fresh mozzarella applied directly to the crust, and only a few splashes of tomato sauce (a lightly cooked, mildly sweet sauce) on top of that. And you know what: I kinda liked it.
Baked in a wood-burning oven, the crust was moderately thin, but pliable, and arrived with moderate charring and a fragrant smokiness. The cheese was fresh and very good (and, as I said, plentiful). The pies, called “Minis” were as large as some of the regular pies we’ve had. At first, I loved the overpowering cheesiness of it, but after a couple of sauce-free bites, I began to appreciate balance. It’s very good pizza (top third, probably), and for cheese lovers a sure thing, but ultimately pizza is more like bowling than ‘Nam: There are rules.
Update: You can order extra sauce, but there’s a tradeoff as the crust can get soggy at the end. It’s still a good pie either way.
Coals, Pelham Bay, The Bronx –
***
Coals is not a regular slice joint. Nor is it a regular fancy-shmancy place. Nor is it a regular pies-only coal-fired, etc., etc., place (which the name sort of suggests). Coals has grilled pizza. The extremely thin dough is placed atop an extremely an extremely hot (the owner said upwards of 800 degrees) grill for a few moments, flipped, sprinkled with ingredients, and served. The product is unlike any other pizza I’ve had (though it shares some of the traits – charring, flakiness – of places like Patsy’s and Johnnie’s), but is still a different beast. It’s crisp, thin, tasty, and has a pleasant saltiness. My complaint is a simple one: the method of cooking leads to a somewhat sparsely topped pie, and occasionally, the toppings are more warm than hot. Now, this isn’t really a complaint, as the results have all been delicious, and the toppings have all been good – aged mozzarella, a simple, tangy sauce, a dusting of romano (I’ve stayed away from the “nontraditional” toppings offered – corn and the like). But if you’re looking for a layer of sauce topped by a layer of cheese, be warned: you’re not going to get it here. Also: you should get a whole, large pie for yourself – you won’t have leftovers.
Does this “count” as NY pizza? To be honest, I’ve almost stopped asking myself such questions. Almost. So, no it’s not NY Pizza, but…C’mon! It’s good. Have some. Fine then, don’t.
*1/2
I had high hopes. High, high hopes. Tosca, built (it seems) on the remains of an old bakery in the Bronx is the only coal-oven pizzeria in the borough (it’s actually a full-fledged Italian restaurant). High hopes. They were dashed. Tosca, which has a kind of silly “modern” fanciness to it (“No, you’re not freezing your ass off in the Bronx, you’re in a vaguely cheesy restaurant in Miami…Miami….Miami….”). Now, it isn’t bad pizza – Tara and I got a white pie and a margherita pie – but it wasn’t great. The crust, which should be a thing of beauty if it’s coming out of a coal oven, was dry and brittle. The cheese (fresh mozz) was pretty good as was the sauce…but, meh. Again, it seems, a coal oven is nice, but skill, care, and a good recipe are more important.
Full Moon, Giovanni’s and Café al Mercato on Arthur Avenue, the Bronx –
Full Moon: *1/2
Giovanni’s: *
Café al Mercato: **
I hadn't felt the need to take my father's criticisms of the Pizza Quest™ to heart ("You're an idiot," "I can't believe you're still doing this," "Seriously, you're an idiot."), but on Saturday he raised a valid question. You see, he called, and when he found I had a cold, suggested that I stay in bed all day. When I informed him that, no, I was heading to Arthur Avenue to eat pizza he argued, "With a head cold? You can't trust the results of this. You have a cold, you won't taste anything." It was, I admit, a dilemma. The plans had been set in motion, but I wasn't in top form. Should I encourage the group to continue on without me? Should I take special care to discount my opinion and let others dictate the e-mail?
In the end, I decided thusly: I lived off Arthur Avenue and ate at these places for five years, what I can’t taste I’ll fake.
Full Moon (one pie, half-plain/half-pepperoni)
A doughy-but-tasty crust, with cornmeal on the bottom, was, really, the highlight of the pizza (the cheese, sauce, and pepperoni, was all just “good.”). Frankly, that's all I've got. Never was there so much shrugging when confronted with a pie, until we headed to...
Giovanni's (one pie, half-margherita/half-sausage)
Another lackluster pie, without even a crust to be happy about. Though we ordered a pie with fresh mozz, we didn't think that would be literal. Meaning: It was basically a regular pie with a couple pieces of fresh mozz thrown on top of the aged mozz. The sausage was unique in that it was cut lengthwise into very thin strips. Everyone was basically saying, "Meh," when the check arrived. That one pie cost almost $30. Add in a couple $4.00 beers, and you have perhaps the most expensive and least satisfying pizza on the list.
In between the two places we stopped in Cafe al Mercato, where we split a slice of their "sort-of-Sicilian" pizza. Not nearly as doughy as regular Sicilian, topped first with a thick layer of mozz (fresh, but not great), and then a simple crushed-tomato sauce. It tasted and smelled heavily of oil and was, by far, the most enjoyable pizza of the day.
But it wasn't really NY pizza, and so it is, in my opinion, a shame that "New York's Real Little Italy" as the Bronx Tourism Board hawks it, doesn't have any "Real New York Style Pizza." It’s got some pretty good slices, but nothing to go out of your way for, unfortunately. My advice: If you take a trip to Arthur Ave. bypass Full Moon and Giovanni's, and spend the day grazing, moving from shop to shop buying bread, ravioli, sausage, and other assorted goodies (we had some raw clams on the street, and I bought a dried mozzarella with fresh butter in the middle – that's right, cheese with butter in it, a combo I hope will be as self evidently brilliant to future generations as peanut butter and jelly is to our own), before winding up at one of the decent-to-excellent Italian restaurants in the neighborhood.
Mario's on Arthur Ave., the Bronx –
***1/2
Our last trip to Arthur Avenue ended in disappointment. One of us got a parking ticket, all of us felt like we'd been had by the claims of great pizza in the Bronx's Little Italy. But, we returned, and ate some very good pizza at Mario's. The weird thing about Mario's (besides the decor that hasn't changed since 1952, and the pictures of semi-celebrities hanging up, and our waiter who bore an eerie resemblance to Vince Vaughan, and the photocopied reviews present at the table and, and, and) is that they don't really want you to eat pizza there. While all the reviews hanging up make mention of the fantastic pizza, the menu claims that only an "appetizer pizza" exists. I quizzed the waiter. Waiter (Vince Vaughan): "You can have pizza as a meal before 4:30. After that you can only have it as an appetizer. I don't make the rules, so don't blame me. In my opinion though [beat] this is the best pizza in the country. I'm serious." While I wouldn't go that far, this was some seriously good pizza, probably the best I've had in the Bronx. We ordered two pies (they were delivered with just the right amount of time between them), one plain (at Vince's urging) with aged mozzarella, one with fresh mozz - half-pepperoni/half-garlic. The cheese was extremely good on both, the crust was excellent - crisp and light but still substantial, the sauce was pleasantly tart and simple, the garlic was in the form of gigantic half-cloves. Extremely, extremely good pizza. Except for the pepperoni; very thin slices with almost no bite that dribbled unpleasant oil over their half of the pie. Afterwards, a walk through the market, a visit to the cheese store, some pastries and coffee at Egidio's. In other words: an extremely pleasant day. Just be sure to get started before 4:30.
Update: Went back to have pizza at 2:30 on a Sunday. We were told we’d have to order something else. We got fried calamari. It was really damn good, but the whole thing is just insane.
Louie and Ernie's in Pelham Bay, the Bronx –
***
Matt Devoe and I went to Louie and Ernie's (which had recently been crowned the best in the Bronx by the Post). We ordered a half garlic/half sausage (plain mozz). It has a thicker crust than Patsy's or Johnny's, with no charring, and some chewiness (in a good way). The nicely crisp crust stood up to the massive amount of sausage on it. There was a good, fairly thick layer of mozzarella, smaller pieces of garlic spread evenly over the pizza (Matt prefers these little pieces, I prefer the big chunks). The sausage was amazingly good (out of the casing, nice and sweet). It was very good pizza in the "standard New York slice" vein. Regrets: I didn't save room for one of the calzones they were deep frying (deep frying!) a few feet away from us. Strangeness: It's not the prettiest girl at the dance and is located in the basement floor of a house – we saw feet and a lawnmower from our table. Ambience be damned!
It should be noted that neither Johnny’s in Mt. Vernon nor Louie and Ernie’s have a coal oven, and yet both make very good to excellent pies, whereas the coal oven pies at Arturo's and Angelo's were both deeply unsatisfying. Perhaps the idea that coal ovens are necessary for great NY-style pizza is nothing more than a myth?
Update: Returned and ate one of those fried calzones. Have one. The dough gets sweet and oily…like eating a ricotta filled zepoli. That’s a good thing, in case you were wondering.
Louis Seafood Restaurant, Throgg’s Neck, the Bronx –
*1/2
That's right, it says seafood there in the name, but, according to a couple of guys from Throgg’s Neck, it serves the best pizza in the Bronx (you can request the style of pizza: thin crust, well done, crispy. Thicker, medium-well, etc.). According to me: not so much. It was merely okay. It was close in style to Sal and Carmine's with a thick layer of brown, bubbling cheese over a "cooked" sauce and a fairly thick crust; the sauce was enjoyable, with a pleasantly heavy amount of oregano. The crust, unfortunately, was the pizza's downfall, winding up hard, dry, and chewy. If in the area, just go to Louie and Ernie's (it's five blocks away, fer godsakes).
Patricia’s Pizza and Pasta, Morris Park, the Bronx –
**1/2
If there’s been one constant in the pizza we’ve eaten on the quest, it’s that there’s an unspoken and (pretty much) universally understood cheese to sauce ratio somewhere out there, a platonic ideal every pie man naturally aims for and usually hits. It just is. When you order a “plain” (or a “cheese” or a “Margherita”), whether it’s cooked with coal, wood, or gas, whether it’s cheap or expensive…you’re getting a baseline amount of sauce and a complimentary amount of cheese (there’s wiggle room, but y’know what I mean). The Margherita at Patricia’s is the first pizza place we’ve gone to that seems to have unilaterally decided to call the whole delicate balance of cheese, sauce, and crust into question. It comes with a blanket of fresh mozzarella applied directly to the crust, and only a few splashes of tomato sauce (a lightly cooked, mildly sweet sauce) on top of that. And you know what: I kinda liked it.
Baked in a wood-burning oven, the crust was moderately thin, but pliable, and arrived with moderate charring and a fragrant smokiness. The cheese was fresh and very good (and, as I said, plentiful). The pies, called “Minis” were as large as some of the regular pies we’ve had. At first, I loved the overpowering cheesiness of it, but after a couple of sauce-free bites, I began to appreciate balance. It’s very good pizza (top third, probably), and for cheese lovers a sure thing, but ultimately pizza is more like bowling than ‘Nam: There are rules.
Update: You can order extra sauce, but there’s a tradeoff as the crust can get soggy at the end. It’s still a good pie either way.
Coals, Pelham Bay, The Bronx –
***
Coals is not a regular slice joint. Nor is it a regular fancy-shmancy place. Nor is it a regular pies-only coal-fired, etc., etc., place (which the name sort of suggests). Coals has grilled pizza. The extremely thin dough is placed atop an extremely an extremely hot (the owner said upwards of 800 degrees) grill for a few moments, flipped, sprinkled with ingredients, and served. The product is unlike any other pizza I’ve had (though it shares some of the traits – charring, flakiness – of places like Patsy’s and Johnnie’s), but is still a different beast. It’s crisp, thin, tasty, and has a pleasant saltiness. My complaint is a simple one: the method of cooking leads to a somewhat sparsely topped pie, and occasionally, the toppings are more warm than hot. Now, this isn’t really a complaint, as the results have all been delicious, and the toppings have all been good – aged mozzarella, a simple, tangy sauce, a dusting of romano (I’ve stayed away from the “nontraditional” toppings offered – corn and the like). But if you’re looking for a layer of sauce topped by a layer of cheese, be warned: you’re not going to get it here. Also: you should get a whole, large pie for yourself – you won’t have leftovers.
Does this “count” as NY pizza? To be honest, I’ve almost stopped asking myself such questions. Almost. So, no it’s not NY Pizza, but…C’mon! It’s good. Have some. Fine then, don’t.
Pizza Quest: Brooklyn
Totonno’s on Coney Island–
****
On Saturday ten (10!) of us made our way to Totonno's Pizzeria in Coney Island. We took over two tables ordered numerous pies, and were rewarded with, in my opinion, The Best Pizza I've Ever Eaten. The crust: Thicker than Patsy's, terrifically charred. The sauce: More of a traditional "sauce" than the simple crushed tomato at Nick's and Patsy's, but not pasty, sweet, or overpowering. The cheese: Very fresh mozzarella with a bit of parmigiano (Eric thought the parmigiano a bit too much); the mozz is placed directly on the unbaked crust, the sauce over and around it (leading to nice areas of only cheese and crust). The toppings: Plain, pepperoni (excellent, though Eric thought it a bit oily), sausage (some complained it was too thick, Pete could've used more fennel), and fresh garlic (spread evenly over the pie). All in all, in my opinion, the best pizza thus far. Pleasantly salty, wonderfully charred…just terrific. Great, great pizza. (Also, as you eat here pay attention to the way the pizza tastes as it cools. Things happen, and, in this humble eater’s opinion, it gets better).
And then, afterwards, a ride on the Cyclone, a walk down the boardwalk, and a two-hour subway ride home. It was worth it, this is pizza worth traveling for. Plus, you can shoot paintballs at a real live human being afterwards. True, we didn’t “Shoot the Freak,” ourselves, but the option was there. God Bless America.
Grimaldi's in Brooklyn –
**1/2
Seven of us made our way to Grimaldi's in Brooklyn (basically underneath the Brooklyn Bridge) to try what is considered to be among the best pizzerias in the city. We ate four pies (Yeah, I had five slices, what of it?), but in our defense, Grimaldi's is a thin crust, coal-oven pizza in the vein of Lombardi's/Patsy's/John's (This, somewhat, justifies that fifth slice, no?). Here are the pies:
1 - Plain: Merely okay fresh mozzarella (extremely low moisture, slightly chewy and stringy, not creamy at all), a simple crushed-tomato-style sauce on a very thin, but not very crispy, crust (there was minimal charring, but some nice puffing and blistering). The whole thing was topped with a shot of dried herbs, and several fresh basil leaves (applied before the pie goes in the oven, so they are cooked, unlike most places that use basil).
2 - Sausage and Pepperoni: This was by far my favorite pie. The sausage (crumbled) was spicy (who likes fennel!?), and the pepperoni was incredibly tasty, slightly thick, and nicely crisped from the oven.
3 - Roasted Peppers and Fresh Garlic: Very good roasted peppers that, unfortunately, completely overshadowed the fresh garlic on my slice (Jen claimed that all the garlic was on her slice. This poor garlic distribution upsets me. A lot.)
4 - Half Ham/Half Olives: I was excited by the prospect of ham (my third pork-product of the evening), but was severely let down by this slice (as were all the other ham-folk). Near microscopic ham cubes dotted the slice, and were almost unnoticeable in the mouth. The olive-eaters faired better, with actual whole, black olives (the consensus was positive on that side of the table).
The evening ended with a nice stroll across the Brooklyn Bridge back to Manhattan, and the following conversation:
"There was just nothing great about it. It was all good, but none of it was amazing. It had no one thing that made it amazing or really interesting."
"It was like pizza-by-committee. No risks. It was like the difference between a good cook and a chef."
"This was clean pizza. Totonno's is a dirty pizza...Di Fara's is a filthy, filthy pizza. Grimaldi's was a clean pizza."
DiFara's in Midwood, Brooklyn –
****
DiFara's gets crowded early and stays crowded. One guy, Dominic De Marco makes the every pie (with love and care) and it takes him quite a while. I called to try and figure out what was the best time to go, and had the following conversation:
Him (heavy Italian accent): DiFara's.
Me: Hi, are you open on Sunday.
Him: Yes.
Me: Is there a good time to come in?
Him: Eh, hard to say.
Me: You're busy all day?
Him: Yes, pretty much. I mean, you order toppings, it'll take longer.
Me: We'll just have to wait?
Him: He-he-he, yes.
Of course, this only made me want to go more
We headed out to Midwood (not as bad a trip as I suspected), walked into DiFara's, and immediately ordered a two pies (one regular, half-plain/half garlic, one square, half-plain/half-pepperoni). Despite the horror stories of hour-long waits for pizza, everything went smoothly (This was during the RNC, so perhaps all his patrons were out protesting? Suckers!), and we got our pies in, say, fifteen minutes or so. While everyone had their favorites, it was when I bit into my third slice (a regular, plain one), that I thought: "This is it," and realized I was eating the best pizza I've ever had. And a pizza that was different from most of the others; at the other places I've liked, the pies have had three great elements (cheese, sauce, crust) that seem somehow separate, DiFara's has a slice that is perfectly balanced, with all the elements working together. It was just amazing. The crust is slightly thicker than standard New York variety (it's closer, apparently, to Neapolitan style), the sauce seems to be a simple cooked one, and the cheese...well, Dominic Demarco (the owner and pizza-maker), puts three mozzarellas on his pies (it seems – can’t find a straight answer): Buffalo milk mozzarella, fresh full-fat cow's milk mozzarella, and an aged mozzarella, before topping off the pie with a liberal dousing of olive oil. He also offered us a (paper) plate of freshly grated grana padana to apply to our slices. A note on the square pies: though I kept referring to them as "Sicilian" while I was there, they are not nearly as doughy or thick, and are only a bit thicker than the regular round variety. The big difference is that they are cooked in greased pans, which does amazing things to the crust. It was just great pizza.
Note: There’s no alcohol served at DiFara’s, but you can bring your own.
Update: I've gone back to DiFara's four or five times since, and have always had to endure THE WAIT. Yeah, what everyone says is true: It can take an hour to get a pizza.
****
On Saturday ten (10!) of us made our way to Totonno's Pizzeria in Coney Island. We took over two tables ordered numerous pies, and were rewarded with, in my opinion, The Best Pizza I've Ever Eaten. The crust: Thicker than Patsy's, terrifically charred. The sauce: More of a traditional "sauce" than the simple crushed tomato at Nick's and Patsy's, but not pasty, sweet, or overpowering. The cheese: Very fresh mozzarella with a bit of parmigiano (Eric thought the parmigiano a bit too much); the mozz is placed directly on the unbaked crust, the sauce over and around it (leading to nice areas of only cheese and crust). The toppings: Plain, pepperoni (excellent, though Eric thought it a bit oily), sausage (some complained it was too thick, Pete could've used more fennel), and fresh garlic (spread evenly over the pie). All in all, in my opinion, the best pizza thus far. Pleasantly salty, wonderfully charred…just terrific. Great, great pizza. (Also, as you eat here pay attention to the way the pizza tastes as it cools. Things happen, and, in this humble eater’s opinion, it gets better).
And then, afterwards, a ride on the Cyclone, a walk down the boardwalk, and a two-hour subway ride home. It was worth it, this is pizza worth traveling for. Plus, you can shoot paintballs at a real live human being afterwards. True, we didn’t “Shoot the Freak,” ourselves, but the option was there. God Bless America.
Grimaldi's in Brooklyn –
**1/2
Seven of us made our way to Grimaldi's in Brooklyn (basically underneath the Brooklyn Bridge) to try what is considered to be among the best pizzerias in the city. We ate four pies (Yeah, I had five slices, what of it?), but in our defense, Grimaldi's is a thin crust, coal-oven pizza in the vein of Lombardi's/Patsy's/John's (This, somewhat, justifies that fifth slice, no?). Here are the pies:
1 - Plain: Merely okay fresh mozzarella (extremely low moisture, slightly chewy and stringy, not creamy at all), a simple crushed-tomato-style sauce on a very thin, but not very crispy, crust (there was minimal charring, but some nice puffing and blistering). The whole thing was topped with a shot of dried herbs, and several fresh basil leaves (applied before the pie goes in the oven, so they are cooked, unlike most places that use basil).
2 - Sausage and Pepperoni: This was by far my favorite pie. The sausage (crumbled) was spicy (who likes fennel!?), and the pepperoni was incredibly tasty, slightly thick, and nicely crisped from the oven.
3 - Roasted Peppers and Fresh Garlic: Very good roasted peppers that, unfortunately, completely overshadowed the fresh garlic on my slice (Jen claimed that all the garlic was on her slice. This poor garlic distribution upsets me. A lot.)
4 - Half Ham/Half Olives: I was excited by the prospect of ham (my third pork-product of the evening), but was severely let down by this slice (as were all the other ham-folk). Near microscopic ham cubes dotted the slice, and were almost unnoticeable in the mouth. The olive-eaters faired better, with actual whole, black olives (the consensus was positive on that side of the table).
The evening ended with a nice stroll across the Brooklyn Bridge back to Manhattan, and the following conversation:
"There was just nothing great about it. It was all good, but none of it was amazing. It had no one thing that made it amazing or really interesting."
"It was like pizza-by-committee. No risks. It was like the difference between a good cook and a chef."
"This was clean pizza. Totonno's is a dirty pizza...Di Fara's is a filthy, filthy pizza. Grimaldi's was a clean pizza."
DiFara's in Midwood, Brooklyn –
****
DiFara's gets crowded early and stays crowded. One guy, Dominic De Marco makes the every pie (with love and care) and it takes him quite a while. I called to try and figure out what was the best time to go, and had the following conversation:
Him (heavy Italian accent): DiFara's.
Me: Hi, are you open on Sunday.
Him: Yes.
Me: Is there a good time to come in?
Him: Eh, hard to say.
Me: You're busy all day?
Him: Yes, pretty much. I mean, you order toppings, it'll take longer.
Me: We'll just have to wait?
Him: He-he-he, yes.
Of course, this only made me want to go more
We headed out to Midwood (not as bad a trip as I suspected), walked into DiFara's, and immediately ordered a two pies (one regular, half-plain/half garlic, one square, half-plain/half-pepperoni). Despite the horror stories of hour-long waits for pizza, everything went smoothly (This was during the RNC, so perhaps all his patrons were out protesting? Suckers!), and we got our pies in, say, fifteen minutes or so. While everyone had their favorites, it was when I bit into my third slice (a regular, plain one), that I thought: "This is it," and realized I was eating the best pizza I've ever had. And a pizza that was different from most of the others; at the other places I've liked, the pies have had three great elements (cheese, sauce, crust) that seem somehow separate, DiFara's has a slice that is perfectly balanced, with all the elements working together. It was just amazing. The crust is slightly thicker than standard New York variety (it's closer, apparently, to Neapolitan style), the sauce seems to be a simple cooked one, and the cheese...well, Dominic Demarco (the owner and pizza-maker), puts three mozzarellas on his pies (it seems – can’t find a straight answer): Buffalo milk mozzarella, fresh full-fat cow's milk mozzarella, and an aged mozzarella, before topping off the pie with a liberal dousing of olive oil. He also offered us a (paper) plate of freshly grated grana padana to apply to our slices. A note on the square pies: though I kept referring to them as "Sicilian" while I was there, they are not nearly as doughy or thick, and are only a bit thicker than the regular round variety. The big difference is that they are cooked in greased pans, which does amazing things to the crust. It was just great pizza.
Note: There’s no alcohol served at DiFara’s, but you can bring your own.
Update: I've gone back to DiFara's four or five times since, and have always had to endure THE WAIT. Yeah, what everyone says is true: It can take an hour to get a pizza.
Pizza Quest: Westchester
Johnny's Pizzeria in Mount Vernon –
****
I'm pretty sure that one of those universally acceptable principles is the idea that parents should want the best for their children. Of course, what "the best" means is largely up for grabs. Some choose such nebulous and unsatisfying concepts as instilling "values" or a "work ethic" as the best. From an early age, my notion has always been more concrete, say, things like candy or money. So, when we went to Johnny's Pizzeria in Mt. Vernon, a scant seven or eight minutes from the house in which I grew up, I was shocked both at how good it was (oh, is it good: Tara rates it the best she's had, I put it very near the top) and by the fact that I'd spent the first eighteen years of my life thinking that Crestwood Pizza by the train station was the way pizza should taste when an astonishing, far-superior alternative was located only ten minutes away. How could this abuse occur?
I decided to confront my mother with this charge, assuming that she'd plead ignorance. The truth was far more disturbing.
"I went to a great pizza place last night."
"Where?"
"Johnny's in Mt. Vernon."
"Oh, Johnny's! I've eaten there a thousand times!"
It wasn't ignorance; they simply didn't care. Sigh.
Anyway, now that I've outted my parents as the selfish ogres they are, I can talk about Johnny's. Eight of us (mostly newcomers), had four pizzas: Plain, half-pepperoni/half sausage and mushrooms, fresh garlic, half pepperoni/half plain. Incredibly thin, crisp crust with light charring. A thin layer of plain mozzarella (no fresh on the menu, so far as I could tell), topped with a thin layer of simple tomato sauce. The toppings were excellent (I didn't manage to grab a slice of sausage and mushroom). The garlic was strong and tasty, with large chucks sprinkled evenly over the pizza, and the pepperoni was a little on the thick side, and was spicy and not oily. Minor complaints: I'd love to try fresh mozzarella on it, our fourth pie was not quite as crisp as the others. Bonus: The cheapest place so far, easier to get to than you'd imagine (30 minutes on the Metro-North, a ten-minute walk from the station), and has a review from 1975 hanging up. Extra Bonus: I saw an albino squirrel on the walk from the train.
Update: returned a couple weeks later with a different group of people. Result was the same. Damn fine pizza.
Update Update: I've been back several times, and it's been consistently great.
****
I'm pretty sure that one of those universally acceptable principles is the idea that parents should want the best for their children. Of course, what "the best" means is largely up for grabs. Some choose such nebulous and unsatisfying concepts as instilling "values" or a "work ethic" as the best. From an early age, my notion has always been more concrete, say, things like candy or money. So, when we went to Johnny's Pizzeria in Mt. Vernon, a scant seven or eight minutes from the house in which I grew up, I was shocked both at how good it was (oh, is it good: Tara rates it the best she's had, I put it very near the top) and by the fact that I'd spent the first eighteen years of my life thinking that Crestwood Pizza by the train station was the way pizza should taste when an astonishing, far-superior alternative was located only ten minutes away. How could this abuse occur?
I decided to confront my mother with this charge, assuming that she'd plead ignorance. The truth was far more disturbing.
"I went to a great pizza place last night."
"Where?"
"Johnny's in Mt. Vernon."
"Oh, Johnny's! I've eaten there a thousand times!"
It wasn't ignorance; they simply didn't care. Sigh.
Anyway, now that I've outted my parents as the selfish ogres they are, I can talk about Johnny's. Eight of us (mostly newcomers), had four pizzas: Plain, half-pepperoni/half sausage and mushrooms, fresh garlic, half pepperoni/half plain. Incredibly thin, crisp crust with light charring. A thin layer of plain mozzarella (no fresh on the menu, so far as I could tell), topped with a thin layer of simple tomato sauce. The toppings were excellent (I didn't manage to grab a slice of sausage and mushroom). The garlic was strong and tasty, with large chucks sprinkled evenly over the pizza, and the pepperoni was a little on the thick side, and was spicy and not oily. Minor complaints: I'd love to try fresh mozzarella on it, our fourth pie was not quite as crisp as the others. Bonus: The cheapest place so far, easier to get to than you'd imagine (30 minutes on the Metro-North, a ten-minute walk from the station), and has a review from 1975 hanging up. Extra Bonus: I saw an albino squirrel on the walk from the train.
Update: returned a couple weeks later with a different group of people. Result was the same. Damn fine pizza.
Update Update: I've been back several times, and it's been consistently great.
Pizza Quest: New Haven
Sally’s –
**1/2
Modern Apizza –
**
It’s an old saw: You like the pizza you grew up with. If you grew up in Chicago, Chicago-style is your favorite and New York will never really compare. I disagree. I grew up with “NY slice joint” pizza, but my favorites have a bit of a Neapolitan edge to them (DiFara’s and Una Pizza Napolitana) or are made in a coal-oven. Some might call this splitting hairs (it’s all in the New York family), but I don’t think so. These are distinct entities, and love of one does not predicate love of the other. Also: Are we supposed to believe that this only applies for pizza or am I supposed to, for example, forever hunger for the hamburgers (gigantic, nearly round affairs with a coat of Worcestershire sauce) I had as a youth? Because I don’t -- give me flat and crispy any day. This is all a preface to the following: I wasn’t crazy about New Haven pizza.
Tara, John, and I headed to New Haven following a wedding in Norwalk and snagged lunch at Modern Apizza and dinner at Sally’s (My suggestion of a post-dinner pie at Pepe’s was met with groans and scowls. Whatever.). The pies were similar. Both places had irregular, large almost-circles, cut into extremely narrow wedges. While cooked in a coal oven, the bottoms of both crusts were pale and not very crispy (the outside crusts had some decent charring, Sally’s moreso). The only signs of charring on the bottom crusts were from the semolina used on the pizza peel (the ball bearings that allow the pie to roll into the oven) – basically there was a burnt grit clinging to the bottom of the pie. My biggest complaint was the cheese. It had been cooked till brown, and didn’t so much top the pizza as pave it over. In the sauce department, Sally’s wins (pretty handily). It had good tomato flavor and hadn’t dried out as much as Modern’s. We also split a small clam and garlic pie at Modern. It was good, but suffered the same crust problems as the “plain” (in New York parlance, or “cheese” in New Haven-ese). I really wanted to like New Haven pizza; it’s the oldest American pizza tradition outside of New York, it’s located close enough that I could convince myself I to travel there every few months to have it, and all the cool kids like it. And yet…not so much. Sorry, New Haven, I’ll be back to try Pepe’s when my knowitallism kicks in, but I won’t be happy about it
It should be noted that Tara and John had a far more positive view of the pizzas than I did. Tara even put it in her top five. She is clearly insane.
Pepe's - Bridgeport, Ct.
***
Yes, yes. I know the original Pepe's is in New Haven, and, yes, I know I haven't been there...but I was in Bridgeport. What do you want? Cunningham took me and Tara to Pepe's, where the pies are irregularly shaped, sliced into narrow wedges, covered in strange toppings, and ginormous. Oh, and they're pretty good, too. It was in the same pizza family as Modern Apizza and Sally's (unsurprisingly), but was a bit better than either. Again, the crust wasn't charred on the bottom the way I like it (though it was a coal oven, what gives, Connecticut?), the cheese was slightly overcooked to my tastebuds, and it was a bit chewier than I prefer, but it was quite good. We got a small white clam pie (excellent) and a large (meaning: huge) pie split between plain and bacon (good). Bacon? Yeah, bacon, pancetta's unruly, nitrite-filled cousin. The bacon was a bit much, I have to admit, but the pie was pretty tasty. Bridgeport, like the New Haven location, also has a line to get in. We waited a good half-hour early on a Saturday evening. While waiting we looked in on those who were already eating, comfortable and warm, and felt deep stabs of envy. So, if you want pretty good pizza and an opportunity to break the tenth commandment, head to Pepe's in Bridgeport!
**1/2
Modern Apizza –
**
It’s an old saw: You like the pizza you grew up with. If you grew up in Chicago, Chicago-style is your favorite and New York will never really compare. I disagree. I grew up with “NY slice joint” pizza, but my favorites have a bit of a Neapolitan edge to them (DiFara’s and Una Pizza Napolitana) or are made in a coal-oven. Some might call this splitting hairs (it’s all in the New York family), but I don’t think so. These are distinct entities, and love of one does not predicate love of the other. Also: Are we supposed to believe that this only applies for pizza or am I supposed to, for example, forever hunger for the hamburgers (gigantic, nearly round affairs with a coat of Worcestershire sauce) I had as a youth? Because I don’t -- give me flat and crispy any day. This is all a preface to the following: I wasn’t crazy about New Haven pizza.
Tara, John, and I headed to New Haven following a wedding in Norwalk and snagged lunch at Modern Apizza and dinner at Sally’s (My suggestion of a post-dinner pie at Pepe’s was met with groans and scowls. Whatever.). The pies were similar. Both places had irregular, large almost-circles, cut into extremely narrow wedges. While cooked in a coal oven, the bottoms of both crusts were pale and not very crispy (the outside crusts had some decent charring, Sally’s moreso). The only signs of charring on the bottom crusts were from the semolina used on the pizza peel (the ball bearings that allow the pie to roll into the oven) – basically there was a burnt grit clinging to the bottom of the pie. My biggest complaint was the cheese. It had been cooked till brown, and didn’t so much top the pizza as pave it over. In the sauce department, Sally’s wins (pretty handily). It had good tomato flavor and hadn’t dried out as much as Modern’s. We also split a small clam and garlic pie at Modern. It was good, but suffered the same crust problems as the “plain” (in New York parlance, or “cheese” in New Haven-ese). I really wanted to like New Haven pizza; it’s the oldest American pizza tradition outside of New York, it’s located close enough that I could convince myself I to travel there every few months to have it, and all the cool kids like it. And yet…not so much. Sorry, New Haven, I’ll be back to try Pepe’s when my knowitallism kicks in, but I won’t be happy about it
It should be noted that Tara and John had a far more positive view of the pizzas than I did. Tara even put it in her top five. She is clearly insane.
Pepe's - Bridgeport, Ct.
***
Yes, yes. I know the original Pepe's is in New Haven, and, yes, I know I haven't been there...but I was in Bridgeport. What do you want? Cunningham took me and Tara to Pepe's, where the pies are irregularly shaped, sliced into narrow wedges, covered in strange toppings, and ginormous. Oh, and they're pretty good, too. It was in the same pizza family as Modern Apizza and Sally's (unsurprisingly), but was a bit better than either. Again, the crust wasn't charred on the bottom the way I like it (though it was a coal oven, what gives, Connecticut?), the cheese was slightly overcooked to my tastebuds, and it was a bit chewier than I prefer, but it was quite good. We got a small white clam pie (excellent) and a large (meaning: huge) pie split between plain and bacon (good). Bacon? Yeah, bacon, pancetta's unruly, nitrite-filled cousin. The bacon was a bit much, I have to admit, but the pie was pretty tasty. Bridgeport, like the New Haven location, also has a line to get in. We waited a good half-hour early on a Saturday evening. While waiting we looked in on those who were already eating, comfortable and warm, and felt deep stabs of envy. So, if you want pretty good pizza and an opportunity to break the tenth commandment, head to Pepe's in Bridgeport!
Pizza Quest: Mail Order Chicago
Lou Malnati's - Chicago
No stars, because I can’t really judge, but I’d order it again.
I was ready to dislike Chicago-style pizza. It seemed like, well, the Cubs of pizza. It didn't merit the intense frothing-at-the-mouth craziness that I could easily muster for California-style (the Red Sox, if you will), because, well, it's barely pizza. I mean, it's cute that they think it's a real, grown-up pie and everything, but, c'mon...you need a fork-and-knife to eat it. Steak: fork and knife. Pizza: hands. It's science. So, it was basically a whim when I ordered four pies online from Lou Malnati's (Why, if it were merely a whim, did I order four pies? One - Shipping per pie is a lot cheaper with four. Two - You don't know me very well, do you?). The pies (plain, sausage, pepperoni, and supreme) arrived parbaked, packed with dry ice in a Styrofoam cooler two days after I placed my order. Tara and I had the plain one first, and much to my surprise we liked it. Quite a lot. Tasty chunks of tomato and sauce topped a massive oozy slab of mozzarella cheese. The crust was flaky and buttery and the pie had a heavy sprinkling of parmesan. Really, really good.
There are problems, however (I imagine most of these disappear if you are actually eating your pizza in Chicago). First, it's hard to tell when it's done (it arrives pretty much golden brown). I wound up simply pressing my index finger into the center of the pie till I burned myself. Also, I kept insisting on eating it with my hands. I scowled at it, broke it into pieces, told it to "act like a pizza," but no: fork and knife it was. Sausage came second and was less enjoyable. They roll out a sheet of sausage in between the cheese and sauce layers. While perhaps tasty at one point in its existence, the sausage wound up tough and chewy. Also, the pie stuck to the bottom of the tin (I haven't figured out why). Pepperoni proved better than sausage, but not really a match for the straightforward pleasure of the cheese pie. Finally, the supreme (sausage, pepperoni, mushroom, onion, and green pepper), which suffered from the same tough sausage as pie #2.
The verdict: It's pretty good. I'd take Malnatti's cheese pie over a few of the pizzerias we've been to and both of the places in my neighborhood, but will skip the sausage in the future. It is, however, something of a Pyrrhic victory for the Second City: It was good, but I wouldn't trade styles with Chicago for anything.
No stars, because I can’t really judge, but I’d order it again.
I was ready to dislike Chicago-style pizza. It seemed like, well, the Cubs of pizza. It didn't merit the intense frothing-at-the-mouth craziness that I could easily muster for California-style (the Red Sox, if you will), because, well, it's barely pizza. I mean, it's cute that they think it's a real, grown-up pie and everything, but, c'mon...you need a fork-and-knife to eat it. Steak: fork and knife. Pizza: hands. It's science. So, it was basically a whim when I ordered four pies online from Lou Malnati's (Why, if it were merely a whim, did I order four pies? One - Shipping per pie is a lot cheaper with four. Two - You don't know me very well, do you?). The pies (plain, sausage, pepperoni, and supreme) arrived parbaked, packed with dry ice in a Styrofoam cooler two days after I placed my order. Tara and I had the plain one first, and much to my surprise we liked it. Quite a lot. Tasty chunks of tomato and sauce topped a massive oozy slab of mozzarella cheese. The crust was flaky and buttery and the pie had a heavy sprinkling of parmesan. Really, really good.
There are problems, however (I imagine most of these disappear if you are actually eating your pizza in Chicago). First, it's hard to tell when it's done (it arrives pretty much golden brown). I wound up simply pressing my index finger into the center of the pie till I burned myself. Also, I kept insisting on eating it with my hands. I scowled at it, broke it into pieces, told it to "act like a pizza," but no: fork and knife it was. Sausage came second and was less enjoyable. They roll out a sheet of sausage in between the cheese and sauce layers. While perhaps tasty at one point in its existence, the sausage wound up tough and chewy. Also, the pie stuck to the bottom of the tin (I haven't figured out why). Pepperoni proved better than sausage, but not really a match for the straightforward pleasure of the cheese pie. Finally, the supreme (sausage, pepperoni, mushroom, onion, and green pepper), which suffered from the same tough sausage as pie #2.
The verdict: It's pretty good. I'd take Malnatti's cheese pie over a few of the pizzerias we've been to and both of the places in my neighborhood, but will skip the sausage in the future. It is, however, something of a Pyrrhic victory for the Second City: It was good, but I wouldn't trade styles with Chicago for anything.
Free Concert Update:
Saturday, 6-17-06 - Saturday Looks Good to Me, Mobius Band, Human Television, and Meneguar
2pm-6pm, East River Amphitheater
[You can view the complete, updated list here.]
2pm-6pm, East River Amphitheater
[You can view the complete, updated list here.]
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Music + Video, No. 7
Why do you not like The Gnarls Barkley? Perhaps you haven't heard it, yet? Yes, no? Listen: Is good. Watch original here. The Cee-lo/Danger Mouse Rorschach Video. You like, yes? No. Perhaps you like better this here. Is The Gnarls Barkley on Conan. They wear the slippers and robes. They sing slower.
What, you still don't like?
The name?
The name is silly.
That is all. You do not like name?
You silly. You silly.
You like now.
What, you still don't like?
The name?
The name is silly.
That is all. You do not like name?
You silly. You silly.
You like now.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Et tu, Stephin?
I've tried to make it a point to not be one of those people who gets all "Sellout! Sellout!" when a favorite artist dares dirty his or her hands by engaging the marketplace. I remember reading this essay/response by Dave Eggers about the idea of selling out and thinking, "Okay, that makes sense," and making a conscious decision not to worry about artists "keeping shit real." Since I read that (it must have been college), the entire culture seems to have decided not to worry, either. Songs from bands like Subpop's The Shins and Iron & Wine turn up relatively frequently in commercials or as background music on MTV, Dylan did a Victoria's Secret commercial (you can watch him leering here), and Devo has engaged the corporate world head on (click here, warning: audio starts playing immediately). And frankly, this didn't really bother me: Subpop's current lineup seems to have quite a few bands looking for mainstream success, Bob Dylan's Victoria Secret commercial seems kind of like another joke from an inscrutable artist, and Devo has always been made of 99.8% pure irony.
But I saw something on TV last night that got to me. It was a commercial for Cesar dog food featuring the bouncy opening of "I Think I Need a New Heart" by The Magnetic Fields. The Magnetic Fields are a product of Stephin Merritt, who seems to say whatever comes to mind, and have little care for what happens (here's a recent article on Merritt, and how some things he's said have lead to charges of racism). By most reports, Merritt is a nightmare to interview, as he'll ignore questions he thinks are stupid. He's smart as hell, his music is quirky (in the sense that it's made with its creator's quirks on full display), and he makes music that is pretty far outside the mainstream. And said music is now being used to hawk dog food.
I think I finally understand why people get annoyed at artists "selling out." It's not that I'll be unable to enjoy the dog food song anymore (seeing it in the commercial has made me listen to it two or three times, and it's still a very good song), it's that it makes it clear that an artist I admire is human. I like to think that Merritt lives in a bare, white-walled studio apartment, sleeps on top of a pile of 78s he bought at garage sales, and subsists on a daily crust of bread. His only income is from fans who press bills into his hands when he walks down the street. He's being evicted, because the neighbors can't get through the camp of journalists outside his building, waiting to capture him saying something "controversial." But that, clearly, isn't true. It's not that I want him to be poor, it's that I want to believe he's an artist purely for the sake of his art. I want to believe that he's not engaging the marketplace in any way, when in reality, every time he releases a record (even if it's on an indie label), he's doing just that. And the dog food commercial made it clear: Stephin Merritt sells music for a living. I shouldn't be mad at him for it when I'm lucky enough to be a consumer, too.
But I saw something on TV last night that got to me. It was a commercial for Cesar dog food featuring the bouncy opening of "I Think I Need a New Heart" by The Magnetic Fields. The Magnetic Fields are a product of Stephin Merritt, who seems to say whatever comes to mind, and have little care for what happens (here's a recent article on Merritt, and how some things he's said have lead to charges of racism). By most reports, Merritt is a nightmare to interview, as he'll ignore questions he thinks are stupid. He's smart as hell, his music is quirky (in the sense that it's made with its creator's quirks on full display), and he makes music that is pretty far outside the mainstream. And said music is now being used to hawk dog food.
I think I finally understand why people get annoyed at artists "selling out." It's not that I'll be unable to enjoy the dog food song anymore (seeing it in the commercial has made me listen to it two or three times, and it's still a very good song), it's that it makes it clear that an artist I admire is human. I like to think that Merritt lives in a bare, white-walled studio apartment, sleeps on top of a pile of 78s he bought at garage sales, and subsists on a daily crust of bread. His only income is from fans who press bills into his hands when he walks down the street. He's being evicted, because the neighbors can't get through the camp of journalists outside his building, waiting to capture him saying something "controversial." But that, clearly, isn't true. It's not that I want him to be poor, it's that I want to believe he's an artist purely for the sake of his art. I want to believe that he's not engaging the marketplace in any way, when in reality, every time he releases a record (even if it's on an indie label), he's doing just that. And the dog food commercial made it clear: Stephin Merritt sells music for a living. I shouldn't be mad at him for it when I'm lucky enough to be a consumer, too.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Link #3: Pixies + x = Awesomeness
What would songs by The Pixies sound like, if done by other artists? Like this.
Prince doing "Hey," is my favorite.
[Thanks, Roger, and mefi.]
Prince doing "Hey," is my favorite.
[Thanks, Roger, and mefi.]
Link #2: Best Toy Ever
From this line of toys at FAO Schwartz, we have this guy:
Albino Squid - Friends With You Collection
Albino Squid is a jerk. He is a useful friend in that he reminds you how not to act. If you are a jerk, rejoice, you’ve met your new teammate. He wants to kick the butt of all your competitors and help you rule the world. He is the solution to all your problems.
This product recommended for 7 yrs and above.
[Thanks, Charlotte]
Albino Squid - Friends With You Collection
Albino Squid is a jerk. He is a useful friend in that he reminds you how not to act. If you are a jerk, rejoice, you’ve met your new teammate. He wants to kick the butt of all your competitors and help you rule the world. He is the solution to all your problems.
This product recommended for 7 yrs and above.
[Thanks, Charlotte]
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Free NYC Summer Concerts
This is for 2006, for 2007, click here.
[This is a list of free summer concerts in New York City that seem interesting to me. I will update this page periodically. I will not be attending all, or even most of these. If I've missed something - I'm sure I have - please tell me.]
Thursday, 6-1-06 - A NY Bluegrass Tribute featuring Ricky Skaggs
7PM, Castle Clinton*
Friday, 6-2-06 - Super Furry Animals
7PM, South Street Seaport, Pier 17
[Why don't I like Super Furry Animals as much as everyone else does? It's noisy. It's pop. I like both of those things.]
Sunday, 6-11-06 - Bettye LaVette
4:45, Madison Square Park, part of the Big Apple BBQ
[Soul singer. See her. Eat BBQ.]
Tuesday, 6-13-06 - Eels w/Smoosh
7PM, World Financial Center Plaza
[Eels are pretty great. They played Letterman in pajamas.]
Wednesday, 6-14-06 - Ralph Stanley w/Tres Chicas
7PM, Rockefeller Park
["O, Death! Ooo-oooo, Death!" I love "O, Brother, Where Art Thou?"]
Saturday, 6-17-06 - Saturday Looks Good to Me, Mobius Band, Human Television, and Meneguar
2pm-6pm, East River Amphitheater
[I honestly only know Saturday Looks Good to Me...but they're kind of awesome. Phil Spector-ey, lo-fi, Indie rock.]
Saturday, 6-17-06 - Rhett Miller (of Old 97's), Teddy Thompson, Ollabelle
4PM, Central Park summerstage
[Honestly, most interested in Ollabelle. Young(ish) folks singing old timey music. Their debut album had two Blind Willie Johnson songs on it. Who does that?]
Tuesday, 6-20-06 - Son Volt
7PM, World Financial Center Plaza
["Livin' right is easy, what goes wrong yer causin' it." Jay Farrar was in Uncle Tupelo. He started Son Volt; Jeff Tweedy started Wilco. Jeff Tweedy got weird, he stayed the same.]
Sunday, 6-25-06 - Canada Day featuring Feist, Buck 65, Jason Collett
3PM, Central Park Summerstage
[I saw Feist open for Bright Eyes. She's pretty good. And Mushaboom is a great song with a neat video]
Friday, 6-30-06 - TV on the Radio, etc.
6:30PM, Prospect Park Bandshell
[I saw TV on the Radio once. Kinda Meh about them. But I think it was at Siren Festival. So it's not really fair to judge.]
Sunday, 7-2-06 - Seu Jorge, Jose Gonzalez, etc.
3PM, Central Park Summerstage
[Yes, I only know him as the guy from "Life Aquatic." Hate the game, not the player. Wait.]
Tuesday, 7-4-06 - Belle and Sebastian
3:30PM, Battery Park
[They're lovably sad Scottish sprites. With the best song about Mike Piazza ever. How many songs are there about Mike Piazza? A million.]
Thursday, 7-6-06 - Mates of State
7pm, Castle Clinton*
Thursday, 7-13-06 - Okkervil River
7pm, Castle Clinton*
Thursday, 7-13-06 - Yo La Tengo
7:30PM, Prospect Park Bandshell
[Saw them at Battery Park last year. They're pretty great. Eh? Eh?]
Sunday, 7-16-06 - Siren Festival
Noon-9PM, Coney Island
[Gigantic Crowds? Yessir. Indie Rock? Yessir. Bad Acoustics? Ya-huh.]
Thursday, 7-20-06 - Sugar Hill Gang
7PM, South Street Seaport, Pier 17
Thursday, 7-27-06 - Hold Steady
7pm, Castle Clinton*
[Franklin says they're great in concert. I like their CD. Sort of like Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band all banged up and dented to hell.]
Thursday, 7-27-06 - Dracula w/Philip Glass and the Kronos Quartet
7:30PM, Prospect Park Bandshell
Friday, 8-18-06 - The Box Tops ft. Alex Chilton
7PM, South Street Seaport, Pier 17
["My baby, she wrote me a letter." Alex Chilton is - more famously? - also the leader of Big Star. Love him.]
Friday, 8-25-06 - Ted Leo + the Pharmacists
7PM, South Street Seaport, Pier 17
[I saw Ted Leo at Siren Festival a couple years ago, and loved him. He's great. You'll love him, too.]
*The Concerts at Castle Clinton require you to pick up free tickets (limit of two per person) at 5PM on the day of the show.
You should verify these times/dates before going. It's a long summer, thing's change, sometimes it rains:
Big Apple BBQ
Celebrate Brooklyn
Central Park Summerstage
East River Music Project
River to River Festival (World Financial Plaza, South Street Seaport, Bryant Park, inc. Castle Clinton)
Siren Festival
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
An Open Letter to the Critics Who Gave X-Men 3 a Good Review
Dear Critics Who Gave X-Men 3 A Good Review,
Why did you give X-Men 3 a good review? You said things like it is “terrifically entertaining” (Joe Morgenstern, WSJ) and that Brett Ratner “sure knows how to put on a show” (Elizabeth Weitzman, NY Daily News). Why did you say these things when they are untrue? Right now you, Critics Who Gave X-Men 3 A Good Review, are probably saying to yourselves, “Oh, great, another Internet fanboy who’s upset because Magneto’s helmet is a different shade of purple in the movie,” but you give me too much (or too little) credit. One needn’t compare this movie to the comic or even to the first two movies to know that it is bad; X-Men 3 is bad on its own terms. This is a movie that has a character move the Golden Gate Bridge to Alcatraz to move a group of, I don’t know, fifty to three hundred people there, instead of, say, taking a boat. This is a movie that makes it terribly unclear whether there are fifty or three hundred people standing on the Golden Gate Bridge when this happens. This is a movie where the Golden Gate Bridge starts moving in the daytime and lands in the daytime, but a shot later, when people start walking off the bridge, it’s nighttime. And those problems are all in one five minute sequence. And you praised it. Why did you praise it when it is so bad?
The movie is a mess, a big, dumb, empty-headed mess. Problems are created to be resolved seconds later. Characters’ relationships are never clear. The geography and timeframe of the movie are both severely confused. It’s ugly and garish both in the way it looks and in its morality. It’s poorly edited. Halle Berry is in it. The script is constructed out of the clichés they left out of other movies (the president says both “May God have mercy on us all,” as well as “They want a war, we’ll give them a war.“). And it looks cheap.
And you gave it a good review. And a million-billion people (including me) went to see it this weekend based at least in part on your good review. Why did you do this? This means that, partially because of you, another, likely even worse X-Men movie will come out in a couple of years, and then maybe another. And then, the franchise will be dead, and people will say things like, “Comic book movies are big and dumb, like ‘Batman and Robin’ and ‘X-Men 5: The Final Solution,’” instead of, “That was a surprisingly good, well-made comic book movie.” Do you want this to happen?
Just wondering,
randominnyc
PS - I hate you.
Why did you give X-Men 3 a good review? You said things like it is “terrifically entertaining” (Joe Morgenstern, WSJ) and that Brett Ratner “sure knows how to put on a show” (Elizabeth Weitzman, NY Daily News). Why did you say these things when they are untrue? Right now you, Critics Who Gave X-Men 3 A Good Review, are probably saying to yourselves, “Oh, great, another Internet fanboy who’s upset because Magneto’s helmet is a different shade of purple in the movie,” but you give me too much (or too little) credit. One needn’t compare this movie to the comic or even to the first two movies to know that it is bad; X-Men 3 is bad on its own terms. This is a movie that has a character move the Golden Gate Bridge to Alcatraz to move a group of, I don’t know, fifty to three hundred people there, instead of, say, taking a boat. This is a movie that makes it terribly unclear whether there are fifty or three hundred people standing on the Golden Gate Bridge when this happens. This is a movie where the Golden Gate Bridge starts moving in the daytime and lands in the daytime, but a shot later, when people start walking off the bridge, it’s nighttime. And those problems are all in one five minute sequence. And you praised it. Why did you praise it when it is so bad?
The movie is a mess, a big, dumb, empty-headed mess. Problems are created to be resolved seconds later. Characters’ relationships are never clear. The geography and timeframe of the movie are both severely confused. It’s ugly and garish both in the way it looks and in its morality. It’s poorly edited. Halle Berry is in it. The script is constructed out of the clichés they left out of other movies (the president says both “May God have mercy on us all,” as well as “They want a war, we’ll give them a war.“). And it looks cheap.
And you gave it a good review. And a million-billion people (including me) went to see it this weekend based at least in part on your good review. Why did you do this? This means that, partially because of you, another, likely even worse X-Men movie will come out in a couple of years, and then maybe another. And then, the franchise will be dead, and people will say things like, “Comic book movies are big and dumb, like ‘Batman and Robin’ and ‘X-Men 5: The Final Solution,’” instead of, “That was a surprisingly good, well-made comic book movie.” Do you want this to happen?
Just wondering,
randominnyc
PS - I hate you.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Helpful Comments from Tom Waits to Contestants on American Idol from the Aborted Episode Where he was Supposed to be the Guest (Manilow Filled in)
- To Elliott on performing "Make it Rain" - "Just keep your hands at ten and two. Then let go of the wheel."
- To Kat on performing "Train Song" - "You're shooting pool at a joint on Hollywood Boulevard and you realize you left your front door open. When you come home, the place is overrun with strays. Dogs. And ladies."
- To Chris on performing "Cold Water" - "Sing it like a baked Alaska."
- To Pickler on performing "Ninth and Hennepin" - "You remind me of a girl I took shop class with at Roosevelt High in San Bernadino."
- To Paris on performing "Shore Leave" - "Singapore is no place for a girl like you. Make it count."
- To Taylor on performing "Earth Died Screaming" - "I like your dancin'. When you dance during this song, think about never having pumpkin pie again."
- To Kat on performing "Train Song" - "You're shooting pool at a joint on Hollywood Boulevard and you realize you left your front door open. When you come home, the place is overrun with strays. Dogs. And ladies."
- To Chris on performing "Cold Water" - "Sing it like a baked Alaska."
- To Pickler on performing "Ninth and Hennepin" - "You remind me of a girl I took shop class with at Roosevelt High in San Bernadino."
- To Paris on performing "Shore Leave" - "Singapore is no place for a girl like you. Make it count."
- To Taylor on performing "Earth Died Screaming" - "I like your dancin'. When you dance during this song, think about never having pumpkin pie again."
The Dave Hill Explosion!
Last night, I saw the Dave Hill Explosion at the Upright Citizen's Brigade Theater (I've only been there a couple of times, and I keep forgetting how awesome and awesomely cheap it is - $5!). Dave Hill is a comic, and the Dave Hill Explosion is his kinda talk show. He "dances" to his theme song. He interviews people. He acts sort of like Chris Farley in that SNL skit where he interviewed Paul McCartney. His guests last night were Malcolm Gladwell of "Blink" and "Tipping Point" fame, Walter Schreifels of the Gorrilla Biscuits (whom I've never heard, because hardcore scares me), and Fred Armisen. Fred Armisen was introduced as and came out dressed as Saddam Hussein (a salt and pepper beard, a suit, and a white shirt), pointed at everyone, played the guitar a little and talked like a Cockney rock singer for the entire interview. The exchange I enjoyed most (from memory, certainly not verbatim):
Saddam: I like New York, yeah. But it's more of a winter/autumn city, y'know? Summer - it's just brutal, yeah.
Dave Hill: Wait, isn't Baghdad hot?
Saddam: It's not so bad with the air conditioning.
Dave Hill also played this commercial. I laughed out loud, but the audio is probably not safe for work.
Saddam: I like New York, yeah. But it's more of a winter/autumn city, y'know? Summer - it's just brutal, yeah.
Dave Hill: Wait, isn't Baghdad hot?
Saddam: It's not so bad with the air conditioning.
Dave Hill also played this commercial. I laughed out loud, but the audio is probably not safe for work.
Schmaltzapalooza
So, last night's season finale of American Idol might be the high point for lowbrow TV. It was kind of like what I want Vegas to be: over the top and deeply stupid, but rigidly professional. Anyway, at some point in the past year, two things happened:
1 - It became totally respectable to go on American Idol (Prince and Mary J. Blige performed).
2 - Clay Aiken turned into Harold from "Harold and Maude".
1 - It became totally respectable to go on American Idol (Prince and Mary J. Blige performed).
2 - Clay Aiken turned into Harold from "Harold and Maude".
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
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