Co. / Company

I've been meaning to check out Company for some time now- a relatively new Neapolitan-style pizzeria in Chelsea founded by esteemed baker Jim Lahey. I used to live in Hell's Kitchen, just a few blocks from Jim's first foray into Manhattan baking, The Sullivan Street Bakery (initially founded on Sullivan St. in Soho), which features a selection of thin Roman-style pizzas served at room temp.

(courtesy of The District Domestic)

Since moving out of the neighborhood to a more distant Brooklyn, making it out to Co. became more difficult than a stroll down 9th Ave. Excuses aside, it was time to check what all the fuss was about.


Unless you're seeking the place out, it can be easy to miss. Located on the corner of a strip mall-esque building, Co. almost looks more like some sort of domestic boutique than a pizzeria.

(courtesy of NY Daily News)

Once inside... well, I'm not even sure exactly how to describe the vibe. It's like some sort of post-industrial chic communal layout that felt cold and seems befitting the Chelsea neighborhood. The service was great and the waiter was very knowledgeable on each of the pies on the menu. As per usual, I ordered the Margherita.


Initial thoughts: a bit small, none too generous on the basil, but overall a pretty beautiful pie, ammiright? The mootz was perfectly salty and the sauce is light and creamy, almost like a vodka sauce or something.


Now before I get into the crust, I have some 'splainin' to do. Lahey has been making buzz in the food and baking blogosphere (oh god, did I really just type that?) with his signature style of kneading- or should I say, not kneading. Jim has "created" a style of baking where he essentially lets his ingredients autolyse (fancy word for mixing flour and water and letting rest prior to kneading) for days until it has turned into a fully-proofed ball of dough.


Jim can't (and doesn't) take full credit for this technique- in fact, it's probably the oldest approach to making dough (and beer for that matter) in history. Considering bread was probably discovered by accidentally letting wet grains sit out until a wild strain of yeast floated by to leaven it, this "new" technique is, in a way, the oldest trick in the book.


That being said... I wasn't too impressed with the outcome. Does it make a decent, chewy cornicione? Sure. Is it among the best pizza crusts I've had? Not at all. Lahey and Co. boast a menu comprised of the basics (like my Margherita), as well as a few quirky ones with an infusion of Jim's personality, such as the Popeye (w/ spinach) and the Honshimeji & Guanciale (w/ quial egg). My friend ordered the "Ham & Cheese:"


Yowza, want some pizza with that prosciutto? Overall my experience at Company was fine- nothing more, nothing less. Would I liked to have seen the oven? Of course, but it's sadly hidden away. Some people may dig on Co., but me?

I'm lookin' for a pizzeria with some soul.

Enzo's Brick Oven Pizza

Holy smokes! Over two months without a single update? Boy am I embarrassed, please forgive me readers (if there are any of you left at this point)! I promise the time spent away from blogging has been productive, and while I can't specify exactly what I've been working on right now, I hope to update you soon with some exciting news on the doc production.

IN THE MEANTIME, let me direct your attention to Enzo's, a cozy little joint with a WFO (wood fired oven) just chillin' on the cusp of Windsor Terrace and Park Slope in Brooklyn, only a block from the southwest corner of Prospect Park. I'd heard a few praises of Enzo's from friends, so I decided to stop in for a small pie last time I was in the neighborhood.


Like most traditional brick oven spots, Enzo's is eat in/take out, but no slices. That being the case, my trusty camera and I grabbed a table for two and ordered a small Margherita. Enzo's is a relatively small place with maybe 15 tables and a menu not limited to just pizzas but standard Italian fare as well. While I no doubt enjoy my share of antipasti and gnocchi and what have you, I can't waste stomach space on any dish consisting of tomatoes, cheese and carbs unless it's pizza, ya dig?


I love Enzo's oven- it's built right into the wall with *gasp* bricks. In a time fraught with brick-oven imposters, it's great to see a legit oven built with bricks, inside and out. Reminds me a lot of Toby's, located not too far from here. Just a few minutes later my pie arrived:


As you can tell, the place is dimly lit so it's hard to take a decent picture, but at least you get a feel for the ambiance, right? The pizza (about 12" in diameter) instantly reminded me of a smaller Grimaldi's or Angelo's pie (though I can't say it was up to par with either). The first thing I noticed is that the Margherita is listed on the menu as having basil (as it should), but none was found on my pie...


I asked for basil on the side, but the waiter made no acknowledgment that I shouldn't have had to have done that. Oh well, the pizza was still pretty spectacular, especially for a place that no one seems to have heard of. I had no idea what to expect, and it's easiest to be impressed when you have no expectations.


This is going to really date this post, but I was at Enzo's on Oscar night (March 7th, eek! Over two months ago!). Regardless, it was ultimately satisfying and seemingly befitting to wolf this entire pie while Baba Wawa interviewed my pizzaphiliac brethren, the Ninja Turtles. Cowabunga!

Paulie Gee's Opens Tonight, March 9th 2010

Well, tonight it is a big night for a Brooklyn-born pizzaiolo and friend of mine, Paul Giannone- known affectionately through New York and New Jersey as Paulie Gee. At 6 P.M. at 60 Greenpoint Avenue in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, Paulie officially opens the over-sized barn doors of his cozy pizzeria to give the public arguably one of the best pies in America.


Paulie, who just retired from a long career of computer consulting just shy of a month ago, started making pizza about two-and-a-half years ago when he built a brick oven in his back yard.

(courtesy of Blondie & Brownie)

Not too shabby, huh? Well it pales in comparison to his new custom Italian-built oven-


I have been fortunate enough and Paulie has been kind enough to let me film the process of him getting his restaurant off the ground for my documentary. While I can't show you any footage, I'll give you a glimpse at what he's been up to.


Before Paulie bought 60 Greenpoint, it used to be a restaurant called Paloma run by Camille from Top Chef season 3. Unfortunately, there was a fire in one of the neighboring apartments, and the restaurant was closed. Fortunately, a talented pizza-maker was hot on the prowl for a headquarters.


The talented Oliver and Evan Haslegrave turned the space into something truly unique, using only recycled and repurposed material to give the brand new restaurant the warm, antiqued barn feeling it has come to embody. If you haven't been to the Manhattan Inn in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, do yourself a favor and go, if not just to see Oliver and Evan's creative handiwork.


I had my first Paulie Gee pizza while stopping by his place during this past Superbowl, and what a night that was. Paulie and his right-hand pizzaiolo Alex spent the night getting to know the new oven by making pie, after pie, after pie. Above is one of my favorites created that night, "The Alexi-" red sauce, EVOO, salt, arugula, and shaved Parmigianno-Reggiano.


Listen, it's clear to see I may have a slight bias having witnessed Paulie passionately transition from backyard entertainer to brick-oven pizza-machine, but I never said I had the integrity of a journalist. What I do know is that Paulie makes one of the absolute best Neapolitan-style pizza I've ever had, and if you knew what was good for you, you'd go try one or three for yourself.


Here's to you Paulie- best of luck, and happy "retirement!"

Arturo's

Last weekend, friend and fellow pizza-blogger Jason from I Dream of Pizza organized one of his acclaimed pizza groups to set out and chow down on some coal-fired pizza from Arturo's on Houston St.


The place has a great vibe- lots of classic photos, paintings, and even live jazz! A funky bassline always goes great with a slice in my opinion.


After a short wait, all 11? 12? of us were seated in the back to passionately discuss and photograph pizza in semi-privacy. We ordered four large pies: mozzarella, fresh mozzarella, bacon & sausage, and the Diavolo minus the ham (sliced tomatoes, onions, peperoncini, no sauce).


Here's my disclaimer- the pictures in this post are sub-par. Due to confined quarters, low light, and the overwhelming anticipation of my fellow diners for me to just finish up with the damn photos already, I had to snap with a quickness, so pardon the sloppiness. Hey there's Brian Hoffman from Eat This NY at the head of the table!

First up was the Diavolo:


Pretty damn tasty, especially with that peperoncini mixed in there. I'm not usually a fan of onion on pizzas, but this one blended great with the rest of the toppings.


Everyone seemed to agree that it was probably for the best they didn't put sauce on this pizza, it was a bit on the sweet side and would not have gone well in combination with the toppings.


Next came the bacon and sausage pie, but considering I didn't try any and my pictures turned out terrible, I'm just going to skip it. That leaves the two varieties of mozzarella:

Plain...


...and fresh-


Totally discernable, right? Yeah, whatever. This is where I became disappointed with Arturo's. According to our waiter, the fresh mozzarella was made with muttz homemade that day. Sure, I believe that. What I don't believe is that the milk or curd they make it from is fresh. It tasted like sour milk, which obviously imparted some rather questionable tastes.

(plain on the left, "fresh" on the right)

This being the case, I preferred the plain pie over the fresh, but I think I speak for most of the group when I say the real winner of the night was the Diavolo. Yes, I'd order it again if I was at Arturo's, but no, I wouldn't go back to Arturo's in the first place. I mean, sour cheese? C'mon Arturo, who are you kidding calling it fresh?

Totonno's

"Next week."
"Soon."
"Next month."
"Wednesday."
"Friday."

These are just a few of the multitude of answers I've heard over the past year in regards to the question asked incessantly by everyone in New York, "When the hell is Totonno's going to re-open?" After nearly a year behind the metal shutters, Coney Islands's greatest pizzeria finally re-opened its doors to the public on Friday, February 12.



Don't let me mislead you, I wasn't there for it. Totally lame, I know, but had they opened when they said they would two days earlier, I was ready to trek through the gnarly blizzard to get my first taste of the place.


After fixing the place up following the fire that forced Totonno's to close its doors last March, it was fully restored to its small, quaint, original style. Quick primer: Anthony "Totonno" Pero made his first American pizzas at Lombardi's, America's oldest pizzeria.

(courtesy of Passion-4-Pizza)

That's Perro on the left and Lombardi on the right. Supposedly, Anthony did most of the pizza-making at Lombardi's (it's hard to see, but there's flour on Perro's shoes and none on Lombardi's) and was sick of Gennaro getting all the credit, so he bought a place on Neptune Ave. in Coney Island in 1924 and named it after himself.


Totonno's, along with Lombardi's, Patsy's, and John's, comprises the four pizza forefathers of New York, and ultimately, America. With three locations now (two in Manhattan), the joint is now run by Cookie, her husband Joel, and son/pizzaiolo Lawrence Cimineri, which despite the difference in last name makes Totonno's the longest family-owned and operated pizzeria in America.


I showed up the following weekend and had no problem grabbing a table, which is surprising considering there's only about 10 in the whole place. As soon as I was able to, I ordered a traditional Margherita (one size; no slices).


This pizza is the embodiment of a year of anticipation. It's beautiful, isn't it?


The sauce is naturally sweet from the Italian tomatoes, the cheese is stretchy and fresh, and the crust is nicely toasted and crispy-


The cornicione was bready and fluffy with a great chew to it. For some reason, it seems much darker than end-crusts at any other pizzeria. I suppose this can be attributed to the placement and length of time the pie is in the coal-fired oven, but it almost looks like rye bread, am I rye-ght?


Ultimately, and I know I'm going to catch some coal-fired heat for this, I wasn't blown away. Great pizza? Definitely. Legendary? Not so much, at least in the way of taste and flavor. Maybe my expectations were set too high, maybe they were having an off day, but I just wasn't knocked out.

Would I go again? Absolutely, if not just to pay tribute to one of our forefathers.

Pietro's

If you've been following my past posts, you'll know that I've been pretty disappointed by what my surrogate home city, Philadelphia, has to offer in the way of pizza (Stella excluded). I could go on a rant about how it seems as though the famous Philly cheese steak has hijacked and drained all of the attention and talent out of Philadelphia's Italian population, but a recent stop at Pietro's Coal Oven Pizzeria on South St. has me second-guessing my opinion.


Heading east down South Street towards the Delaware River, past Jim's Steaks, Eddie's Tattoos, and one of my least favorite slice joints Lorenzo's and Sons, eventually you'll end up at one of Pietro's three locations. Just as it's name explains, it is in fact a coal oven pizzeria.


Shortly after grabbing a seat and taking a few sips from a refreshing Newcastle Brown Ale, I ordered one traditional pie with Ricotta on half. At Pietro's, all pies are one size and unless you specifically ask for no cheese, it comes with homemade fresh mozzarella. Just a few minutes later, my steaming pie arrived-


Looks almost like it came from Angelo's, doesn't it? It should, considering Pietro's has family ties to Angelo's and Nick Angelis of Nick's in Queens. I'm going to be honest with you- I don't really have a lot to say about this pizza. Overall it was pretty rad, probably a 7.5/10 or so, clearly taking the cake over Tacconelli's (what a disappointment that was). While the sauce had a nice zing to it and the mozz was fresh, the best part of the pizza is the crust.


The bottom is cooked perfectly, which in my opinion means a "titch" of char and enough firmness through-out to keep the pizza from looking like it's falling asleep in your hand- the ultimate pizza turn-off. They also seemed to put some hard grated cheese and pepper (?) around the edge crust, which may sound weird but I was into it at the time.


While I was scarfing my pie, I came to the realization that I was the only person in the whole damn restaurant not on some sort of a date. I've eaten plenty of pizzas on my own before, but what the hell was going on here?


Oh yeah, it was Valentine's Day, that explains it. No matter, I was happy enough with my pizza, just me, myself, and pie.

Toby's Public House

Back in October while scarfing some pies at Nomad Pizza, I met Mark Horowitz, a fellow Park Slope pizzaphile. When I asked him where his top pizza joints in the hood were, he said something like, "I don't know, I only go to Toby's." After three or so months, I finally paid it a visit.


Pretty classy spot, eh? Almost looks like something out of a 1920's gangster flick. The place, for all intents and purposes, is in fact an Irish-style pub (hence the name), with one exception:


It has a bad-ass brick oven built into the wall like it's not even a big deal. Look how fresh that thing is! Toby's serves up Neapolitan-style pies, and does a pretty damn good job at it. As always, I was obligated to order the Margherita, in addition to a quattro formaggi and a smoked pancetta and something else I'll get to later.


The Margherita was tasty. Not amazing or ground-breaking, but pretty delicious. The crust is thin but airy and light, and the pie had some great pizza warts (I think I just invented that term, thank you very much).


I like a breadier, chewier crust, so I wasn't knocked on my ass with this pizza. I also wish it had some more basil, but like I said, it was tasty. Next up was the tomato-less, sauce-less quattro formaggi, which consisted of mozzarella, Gorgonzola (DOP), Parmesan, and Pecorino Toscano (DOP).


This guy was yummy, but ultimately nothing new. I like Gorgonzola, especially on a four-cheese pizza with no sauce, but I think it's hard to execute. It's easy to get carried away with a cheese like this, and with such a strong flavor, it's even easier to turn the pie into Gorgonzola with a side of pizza, know what I mean?


The undercrust on all the pizzas was fair, I think it could have stood another 20 seconds in the oven, but it was by no means under cooked. Now let me get to the crazy smoked pancetta pizza-


Here's what is on this sucker: tomato, mozzarella, crimini mushrooms, black garlic, and smoked pancetta (at least on half- I'm a veggie remember?). Now just what the hell is black garlic? Adam at Slice goes into some detail about the stuff, but basically it's fermented garlic that has a slightly sweet taste.


I'm not gonna lie- this was a pretty great pizza. All the toppings worked really well together, and I bet if I ate the pancetta I'd only feel stronger about this. I could never really pinpoint the black garlic aside from an occasional fruity taste, but I liked that none of the ingredients stole the show here. I would definitely go back to Toby's just to order this.


Just before leaving, I nearly forgot to do something I rarely do- order dessert. Paulie Gee had been raving about Toby's dessert calzone filled with nutella and ricotta cheese, and considering I'd never had a dessert calzone, I figured one was in order.


I know, I know, you're not getting the full effect here. Basically what happened was the thing looked so incredible that I forgot to take a picture of it until I had nearly destroyed the whole calzone- give me a break for cryin' out loud! I never would have thought nutella and cheese would go so well together, but with a blizzard of powdered sugar on top, how can anything taste bad?