Pizza and walking. The two non-human loves of my life. As for walking, I'm assuming you’ve gotten the hint by now. In the case of the former, there is nothing so gratifying than the first hot bite fresh out of the oven, the crust lightly cracking between your teeth. Over the past year, I have commenced a quest to perfect, or at least make somewhat more delectable, my own homemade pies, finding the sweetest tomatoes, attempting my own dough, concocting new topping combos. Luckily, I live in Astoria where mom and pops still exist in peace, so there is no shortage of premium ingredients (fresh makes the taste, in my book).
But before I diverge into the importance of imported parmesan and San Marzano tomatoes, or sentimental stories of Grandma sipping red wine as she joyfully slaved over the oven, let me get to the point. How thrilled I was this past June when Dana (pictured below), for my birthday, surprised me with Scott’s Pizza Tours, a guided walking tour spanning Soho and the Village, covering all things pizza.
(Not only was I unaware of this city’s pizza tours, but after some Internet stalking, I’ve also discovered a whole community of NYC pizzaphiles.) Best of all, you get to sample a few slices along the way.
We finally got around to taking the tour this past Wednesday, huddling in the brisk morning outside of Gatsby’s at 53 Spring. Despite its present facade as trendy whiskey house/ dimly lit lounge, the building was originally a grocery store owned by Gennaro Lombardi, opened in 1897. Lombardi began selling small tomato pies wrapped in paper to workers around 1905, making this the first licensed pizzeria in the United States. According to their Website, Lombardi's continued selling pizza, finally closing its doors in 1984. Ten years later, a childhood friend of Gennaro’s grandson, Jerry, reopened Lombardi's down the street at 32 Spring—this was, not coincidentally, the first site of our pizza sampling.
We finally got around to taking the tour this past Wednesday, huddling in the brisk morning outside of Gatsby’s at 53 Spring. Despite its present facade as trendy whiskey house/ dimly lit lounge, the building was originally a grocery store owned by Gennaro Lombardi, opened in 1897. Lombardi began selling small tomato pies wrapped in paper to workers around 1905, making this the first licensed pizzeria in the United States. According to their Website, Lombardi's continued selling pizza, finally closing its doors in 1984. Ten years later, a childhood friend of Gennaro’s grandson, Jerry, reopened Lombardi's down the street at 32 Spring—this was, not coincidentally, the first site of our pizza sampling.
After sitting down and receiving a tour “survival kit” (micro pizza notebook and pen, lemon candies to clear the palate, chocolate mints, and an emergency “gummi” pizza”), our guide, Scott Wiener, dispersed his second nature knowledge of this Neopolitan delight and divulged the secrets behind renowned old-world style pies —the process of aging mozzarella, storing dough at the right temps, the history behind the coal oven, you name it), all while margherita pies were served.
Our fearless pizza leader dispels the myth behind the 40-something "original" Ray pizzas throughout the city.
I admittedly came into this tour with a chip on my Italian American shoulder, wondering what some guy with a non-vowel ending surname carrying a pizza-slice pen could really know about pizza. Well a ridiculous amount, actually, stretching far beyond the boundaries of the 5 boroughs. And this delightfully neurotic passion mixed with some spur of the moment sarcasm and metaphors ("This is not just about pizza, this is learning about yourself") will keep you chuckling and, most importantly, interested throughout the tour.
While enjoying my slice at Lombardi’s, taking in the smells and old photographs, I reveled—silently—in my future Tuscan villa. As Dana graced our table with descriptions of the picaresque Amalfi coast, we were summoned to the hectic kitchen to take a peek at the coal burning oven and its agile operators. The oven goes up to a temp of about 850 degrees, which means the men working it must be quick to constantly move and spin the pies to prevent burning and ensure even cooking, while simutaneoulsy dodging other workers running back and forth to grab and box pies.
A glimpse of Lombardi's coal burning oven. Above the oven is the “1905 Lombadi” tiled plaque that stood in the original pizzeria down the street.
Lombardi’s was, in my humble opinion, by far the best slice had on this tour, and mostly for the ingredients. The fresh mozzarella was bought only few doors down. The crust was light and crispy and the sauce was simple and sweet. The meatball pie at the table behind us looked ridiculous, meaning, I will be back for a second sample.
Heaven is a pizza place on Spring.
After Lombardi’s we huddled on the sidewalk, learning a bit about ovens and equipment—essentially what it takes to make a pizzeria—and were then lead up Elizabeth towards Bowery to Bari Restaurant and Pizzeria Equipment. Dana encouraged me to buy a pizza slicer, but I refused in an effort to maintain my odd family tradition of cutting pizza with scissors.
Dana took this shot inside Bari's. Our guide teaches a young pizzaphile how to use the wooden pizza spatula.
A "secret" workshop next to Bari's where the pizza ovens are made.
Following Bari’s, we trekked north and then west onto Bleecker in the afternoon sun. After acknowledging some musical and architectural points of interest—the former CBGBs, Bitter End, Bayard-Condict Building —we landed at Joe’s Pizza at Carmine for a sampling of the "street" slice. I believe this is a good choice for the purpose and location, but quite honestly, I’ve never been sold on Joe’s, even if just for some street eats—I might skip over to Bleecker Street Pizza for a Grandma slice instead. But that did not prevent me from downing it in under two minutes.
These aren't San Marzano tomatoes!
From Joe’s, we eventually made our way around the corner to thin-crust heaven, John's Pizzeria, where at close to 2PM, a line was already out the door. Three more plain pies were served to us, straight out of the coal-fired oven. They were of course, tasty as usual, but I was admittedly disappointed when the cellar doors were pulled open for a new shipment of Polly-O. A few years ago I could have cared less about aged vs fresh mozzarella, but yesterday I found it to be a mild tragedy, despite considerations of cost-effectiveness and despite the fact that I have eaten John's numerous times before and raved about it. Perhaps Lombardi's should have been the last stop on the tour, to prevent any future tasting disappointments.
A mere post cannot really do this tour thorough justice or touch upon everything covered. In that case, I would highly recommend taking it. If you're a "New Yorker" I wouldn't worry too much about feeling touristy, there was a mix of both natives and out-of-towners in the group. And if you're not into the winter walking thing (gasp!), Scott's tours also has a constantly changing bus loop, which I am planning to check out. Ahhh, this could be the start of something beautiful.
Our pizza walking map, with marked points of interest. See how a full circle of the tour would give way to a pizza slice. With dripping cheese. (Just a little psychogeography for you...)
View Pizza Tour Route in a larger map
Photo credits: The photos of Scott Wiener holding menus and eating a slice of pizza, as well as the photo of me inspecting my slice, were also taken by Dana Lang.
1 comments:
You should create your own outer borough tour. There are at least three pizza parlors in your neighborhood as good as John's (which I think is over-rated, though the Polly-O doesn't bother me that much) and Joe's (which I think is hit-or-miss, but best 10 minutes after the pie has come out of the oven, without re-heating).
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