As some of our longtime readers may recall, Leslie and I have a tradition of getting tipsy at our office Christmas party and then traipsing off to the nearest comfort food establishment to stuff our face.
Last year we dragged Tim in the snow to Crif Dogs in the East Village for chili cheese hot dogs.
This year, because we’d already inhaled many pigs in a blanket at the holiday soiree, we decided to go out for pizza afterwards. It was a frosty night–but we could not be deterred from walking the many blocks to what is being hailed as one of the best new pizzas places in the country.
Lucali
Here is Alan Richman’s review in his recent Best Pizza in America GQ story.
I have been dying to go there ever since I heard about the intense owner/pizza maestro Mark Iacono who, as Richman so aptly describes, resembles the brooding Nic Cage character in Moonstruck (“You’re a wolf!”)
He even makes his pizza by candlelight–candlelight!
The place is small, charming and very popular–but luckily Leslie’s gentleman-friend who accompanied us had an in…it’s all about connections people.
First off the menu.
That’s it.
No salad. No appetizers.
You want a little salad to go with that? Too bad.
Beverages?
Soda.
Pepsi. Diet Pepsi. Sprite.
The specials are whatever topings the man has gotten fresh for you that day, and they are spoken by the raven-haired young waitresses in a lilting Brooklynese tongue: “yooo want haht-peppahs wit that?”
We got a classic margharita (see Leslie’s head above, floating over the pizza).
And a calzone stuffed with shallots, pepperoni, mushrooms, and the most delicious and creamy ricotta cheese. All showered with springy green basil leaves.
It also came with a side of bright red tomato sauce and freshly grated parmesan–perfection.
