Roberta's, Brooklyn NY

I generally prefer to write my thoughts on restaurants in the order in which I experience them – it is a stylistic choice mostly, but I also think it also helps to put my trips into context for the people who take their time to read. With that said, sometimes there is an experience that I need to write about immediately in order to capture the feeling of the moment – these occurrences are rare and in the past couple of years there’ve only been a few – my first visit to Alinea, an extended tasting at The French Laundry, and RJ Cooper’s mind-blowing 24-course tasting at Vidalia to be precise. On March 30th I was lucky enough to have another of these experiences, and this time in the least likely of places – a gritty pizza parlor in Brooklyn.

Starting with a bit of back story, I’ll admit I would be lying if I claimed to have discovered Roberta’s on my own – the blog whispers had become a hum even prior to my February visit to the Big Apple and the moment I heard I would be returning to New York in March I made contact about the restaurant-within-a-restaurant experience from Chef Carlo Mirarchi. Pleasant and prompt my first e-mail was handled by Cherie Burnett and the “rules” were explained – 3-4 people, arrive by 5:30, and $140-$160 per person – simple enough, I’d say. With a date agreed upon I’d never hear from Cherie again – from this point forth it would instead be a back and forth string of e-mails between myself, my co-diners, and Chef Mirarchi himself discussing likes, dislikes, and so forth – an impressive display of customer service on par with past experiences with restaurants garnering three stars from Michelin.

With my conference finished at noon and lunch with an old friend at Peter Luger’s in the rearview I will note that for the unfamiliar Roberta’s is not easy to find - all the more testament to the praise it has been getting since it is not exactly the sort of place one stumbles upon. Thankfully with the use of my phone’s GPS and making my way via Subway from the Brooklyn bridge to Bushwick I entered the small restaurant only a minute late for the reservation and thankfully found that my companions had already arrived (though they would later admit they had originally walked right past the small and unassuming space.) Greeted promptly by our server and led to our table, a small four top with benches being replaced by chairs at our request, it would be a matter of moments before we were seated and greeted by Carlo – perhaps the most humble, pleasant, and conversant chef I’ve met to this day.

With Carlo returning to the kitchen (at least for the time being as he would act as his own server for the majority of our 16 courses while also answering myriad questions about his training, sourcing, inspiration, and upcoming changes throughout the evening) the three of us were left to chat and browse the scene – hipster to be sure, but not overly so – and kitschy décor. With a collection of music ranging from Led Zeppelin to The White Stripes coming from the back and the sounds of the growing crowd and pizza makers from the front I’d say the best way to describe Roberta’s was “energetic” and while my co-diners were certainly the oldest in the room (much as I was the youngest the night before at Café Boulud) it was the sort of place where everyone was treated well – a friendly vibe, excellent service, and a conversational tone that was both casual and professional in equal balance.

With wine poured for one and water remaining full for all throughout the nearly 270 minute tasting would begin with “a snack” delivered by Carlo – House Cured Red Wattle Prosciutto with Roberta’s signature crusty house bread. Supple and fatty with a musty and nutty essence the charcuterie itself was a fine example and although good on its own, it was even more impressive as a counterpoint to the crusty and smoky bread – the first bowl served as a sliced bread stick and the second a larger loaf that allowed the delicate crumb more surface area to shine.

Making quick work of the pork our second course would arrive quite quickly and although the least successful of the night, it was still an intriguing exploration of unexpected flavors. Described as Sea Urchin with Bloomsday and Pea Shoots the bite size uni tongue was appropriately briny but unfortunately a bit soft for my tastes. Paired with an aromatic and fruity puddle of melted cheese and a single pea shoot for texture it wasn’t so much that the flavors didn’t work but rather that the ingredients seemed largely independent – none really adding anything to the others…then again, when a dish featuring good quality urchin is the “worst” of the night it speaks volumes of the other 15 courses.

With dish three our table would be treated to the first of many breathtaking courses of the evening – on the surface somewhat surf n’ turf, but far more subtle and complex. Centered by a perfectly seared (IE caramelized outside, raw within) Diver Scallop caught and shucked that very day, the sweet bivalve was balanced with a shaving of headcheese – gamey, unctuous, and fatty. With the duo tasty on its own, the true beauty of the dish was in the details – specifically a slice of red onion and fresh squeezed tangerine juice that lent an acidic and sweet levity to the whole plate and acted to meld the two proteins into a stellar bite.

Course four would be presented by Carlo as his favorite of the night – he even took time to show us a picture of the fish pre-filet on his Iphone. Presented as Sea Perch with Ramps, Yuzu, and Firefly Squid the fish itself was mild and buttery with intensely crispy scales that particularly thrilled my co-diner who’d noted just the night before that he loved crispy skin on his fishes. Paired with beautiful early season ramps, tiny squid with plenty of bounce, and sweet lemon tones the dish was fish done right – the sort of thing you’d expect to emerge from the kitchen of Le Bernardin, or given the crisp skin perhaps Guy Savoy.

After reading my friend’s palate regarding scales with course four, course five was Carlo’s chance to wow mine. Still wobbly and extremely creamy, Poached Duck Egg with Morels, Dill, and Bread Crumbs was all one could desire from an egg dish and given the accoutrements a perfect entry to spring. Served with the whites barely set and creamy yolk pouring forth with minimal pressure from the fork I loved earthy fiber of the morels, the crunch of the bread crumbs, and the faint accent of the dill – again, no special tricks, just an exemplary preparation of quality ingredients.

Taking a quick step back to winter after teasing us with a handful of spring flavors, Oxtail with Lovage and Miner’s Lettuce was a luxurious stew with ample notes of carrot, celery, and parsley not unlike the sort one would expect from the crock pot of their grandmother. Ample and hearty but small in portion the beauty of this dish and its successor were their placing – a reminder that although spring was in the air, we’d still worn our winter coats from Manhattan to Brooklyn that day.

For course seven, another bucolic preparation – this time Trofie pasta with a ragout of Squab Heart and Liver. A sizable portion with thick spindles of flour and water as its base, this was potentially the most “gamey” dish I’ve ever tasted with only a bit of tomato tossed with the pasta to mellow out the offal. Indulging in the toothsome dumplings bite after bite the only way I can think to describe this dish is intense – not in a bad way, but in a way that says you’re not eating some gussied up Michael White dish from a $20,000 pasta machine, you’re eating heart and liver over pasta rolled by hand.

Likely aware of the heft of the previous two dishes, Carlo’s “intermezzo” as he described it was another pasta, this time hand torn Maltagliate graced with citrus and dusting of pecorino – simple, sweet, and an excellent segue to the courses that would follow.

Arriving next to the delight of the lady of the table would be an unmistakable personal favorite of mine as well – Foie Gras. Nicely cleaned and seared just long enough to char the surface, the liver itself was a top quality specimen, but it was the simple accompaniments of cracked black pepper and coarse black garlic that truly allowed it to shine. Generally fancying cold preparations over warm I have to admit that this was perhaps the best Foie Gras I experienced on this trip to New York.

Our tenth course of the evening was an encore to the seventh – the rest of the Squab, feet and all – served with Mascarpone, Gooseberry and Sorrel. Crispy skin, rosy flesh, a thin ribbon of fat – the squab breast was perfect and the legs surprisingly meaty. To be fair I honestly don’t remember the rest of the dish all that well – probably because I was too busy eating the leg by hand, something I’m rather certain I’ve never done during a “tasting menu” before but felt entirely justified (and comfortable) doing at Roberta’s.

Onward to course eleven, none of us showing signs of reaching capacity or palate fatigue, our next plate would feature whole roasted Normandy Duck paired with Kumquat, Turnip, and Swiss Chard. Unfortunately served plated and without legs due to “an issue in the kitchen,” this substantial portion of fowl was quite tasty, though much more mild than I’d have expected – the flavor almost chicken more so than duck. With crackling skin aplenty and well prepared vegetables I cannot say it was on par with some of the better preparations I’ve experienced in Manhattan, but those are some pretty high standards and I’d certainly not hesitate to try Chef Mirarchi’s duck again on future visits.

For the twelfth and thirteenth courses I have to admit I was hesitant – in general I simply do not order beef – it is both a texture thing and a taste thing since it always seems to taste “beefy.” Having mentioned this to Carlo when discussing preferences via E-mail he assured me that this would be different – that this cow (which he knew the arrival date of nearly a month in advance) was worth it. He was right.

Presented first in its raw state at the beginning of the meal, then whole-cooked, and finally plated, the 80-Day Dry Aged Wagyu with Fingerling Potatoes, Sweetbreads, and Ramps was nothing short of a revelation. Ignoring the potatoes, sweetbreads, and ramps – all things I love and all prepared exquisitely – the Wagyu itself was hardly “beefy,” the flavor instead somewhere between butter, mushrooms, and nuts while the texture was literally melt-in-the-mouth – the sort of meat that could be cut as easily with the edge of a fork as with a knife, and a portion so generous that my dining partners took a good 6 ounces home. In a word, it was perfect – the sort of dish I will remember for a long time to come not only because it was delicious, but because it challenged and changed a long held belief.

Accompanying with the steak and not to be forgotten we were additionally served a large plate of fat brushed bone marrow, parmesan, and toasted country bread – another item I’d have not ordered for myself yet another sensational preparation of which I ate the nearly the entire plate.

With my friends now getting full perhaps it was foolhardy to opt for a pizza in place of the cheese course, but I guess I never claimed to be rational when it comes to great food. Served hot, charred and bubbly from the pizza oven up front our Neapolitan style pie would be an off-menu compellation of Ramps, Ricotta, Mozzarella, Lemon, and Pine Nuts – a lovely amalgam of flavors with an elastic spring to the crust and excellent balance. Having taken a trek through what many consider to be Brooklyn’s best Pizza only three days prior I can say that Roberta’s isn’t quite Lucali or Paulie Gee good, but I preferred it to the slice at DiFara and Motorinio.

Finishing half the pie on my own it was at this point that I started to feel *gasp* full – but certainly not too stuffed for dessert. For course 15 our palate cleanser would arrive as Grapefruit Sorbetto with Olive Oil – a clean, bitter/sweet, and smooth scoop that tasted the very essence of the fruit – a significant accomplishment since I generally find most sorbet overly sweet.

With palates cleansed our final flavor of the evening would be a slightly deconstructed version of one of the house desserts - Kumquat Gelato with Cream Soda, Candied Olive, and Blood Orange Cream. Typically served as a parfait but sized down according to Carlo because he thought we were getting full the gelato was again a perfect representation of its namesake fruit while the thin crisp of cream soda candy, candied olives, and sour blood orange cream lent plenty of nuance and textural variation with the overall flavor something like a mature creamsicle.

With an epic meal behind us and a full service coffee bar up front our last taste of the night was coffee; a bold pour over cup of Finca Juanita for me and an Espresso for my friend. Sitting and sipping our coffee while chatting with our server and later with Carlo I was perhaps at my happiest – full of great food and drinking coffee with friends while listening to Led Zeppelin in the presence of a gracious host – a moment, much like the meal, that I won’t soon forget. With the bill settled – a veritable bargain at $160 per person – and Carlo walking us to the door it was a quick trip via Subway back to Manhattan with much chatter about the wonderful experience just passed – an experience I can’t wait to revisit on my next trip to New York and an experience I would suggest anyone who values great food and great people check out for themselves before the “secret” that is Carlo Mirarchi and Roberta’s is out and reservations become unattainable.

Peter Luger Steakhouse, Brooklyn NY

When you don’t frequent Steakhouse and don’t eat steak in general because you find it rather boring and monotonous it makes it rather difficult to judge a Steakhouse – even if it is nearly 125 years old and perhaps the most famous Steakhouse in the world. Sure I cannot say that Peter Luger would have been my first choice for lunch during any trip to New York City, but on this particular visit a confluence of factors not only made it very convenient, but the fact that my friend Matt had always wanted to eat there but never had the chance also made it a great opportunity to have a Michelin Starred meal with a friend who generally shies away from the world of fine dining.

With a legend over a century old I must admit that my visit to Luger’s was something I actually looked forward to if not for the steak then simply for the experience. How, I wondered, could a Brooklyn Steakhouse hold a 25+ year reign as “Best Steak in New York” when the city’s dining climate has always been so transient? How could a cash only $60+ per person place with rumored surly service and warnings to take a cab rather than risk a walk from the subway require advanced reservations even at lunch? Was it really that good – and if it was, could it be the place to change my mind about Steakhouses and beef in general?

With reservations made months in advance and Matt driving in from New Hyde Park (and ironically forgetting his wallet) my first challenge to the rumors I’d heard was the J-Train and a nice trip across the Williamsburg Bridge followed by a quarter mile walk through a rough yet well-kept neighborhood to the front door of the famous restaurant; not only did I not get mugged or harassed but the people I crossed paths with en route were rather pleasant. Making my way past the parking lot up to the front door I was next greeted by a man in a brown Peter Luger coat who held the door as I made my way in to the bar where my friend was waiting.

With greetings exchanged and Matt informing me of his forgotten wallet I quickly realized that I likely did not have enough cash for the both of us but informed by the somewhat gruff bartender that the restaurant does indeed take debit I was relieved and handing the bartender $3 for the 8oz Diet Coke Matt had been enjoying we made our way through the bar to past a number of suited men to one of the three heavily wooded main dining rooms where we were greeted by our server, a pleasant older fellow named Bernard who told us he’d been working at Peter Luger since “before you was born,” who filled our waters and handed us our menus.

With Matt waxing between the Rib Steak and the Luger Burger and myself having already decided before we arrived on the Lamb Chops it wouldn’t take long before orders were placed and with service professional and even occasionally chatty throughout the meal a warm basket of bread appeared within moments along with thick cubes of butter, Peter Luger Steak sauce, and another $3 Diet Coke for Matt. With the room approximately half full and seemingly unchanged since inception in its decoration Matt and I both dug into the bread basket and to my surprise the offerings were actually quite diverse and tasty with white bread, Garlic Onion rolls, and warm Parker House rolls all golden and warm. With the butter largely forgettable it should also be mentioned that it really doesn’t matter largely because this gives you an excuse at this point to try the sauce – somewhere between barbeque and cocktail and Worcestershire – and to keep trying it until the plates arrive.

With the main courses being cooked “however the Chef prefers” on my request, the next item to arrive at the table was Luger’s Sizzling Bacon “Extra Thick by the Slice.” With a single order delivering two charred slices of crispy pig to our table my first thoughts on arrival were “when they say thick they mean thick” and on taking my first bite those thoughts quickly changed to “damn, this is the best bacon I’ve ever had” as the tender interior edge juxtaposed with the smoky crisp edges to form a taste quite unlike traditional pan fried bacon, but more like pork belly with a bit more texture.

With the bacon devoured and its drippings sopped up with the start of a second basket of bread our main courses would arrive perhaps 35 minutes after seating and with mine plated tableside with sizzling butter from the pan spooned over the first of two butterflied chops (I only ordered the single) it was with little hesitation that I cut into the rosy flesh and took a bite instantly realizing the Luger sauce would be unnecessary as the medium cooked protein had plenty of flavor to go around. With a nearly caramelized exterior and supple core what surprised me most about the dish was how the butter actually managed to enhance some of the animal’s grassy tones while the exterior char was simple, savory, and delicious.
With the lamb consuming my attention I suddenly remembered I was eating with someone and looked up to find Matt essentially eating with his eyes closed and smiling – while the burger may have been good I’m rather certain he didn’t regret his choice. Generally one not to eat beef I decided “when in Rome” in this case and to be completely honest the beef was an eye opener – served on the bone, a medium pink center, and the perfect balance of protein vs. fat marbling to render the meat juicy without being fatty. My first experience in nearly 3 years with dry aged beef it would interestingly not be my last of the day and while Chef Mirarchi’s 80 day dry aged Wagyu at Roberta’s that evening would entirely reinvent the cow to my palate, I can honestly say that if I were to return to Luger’s I would definitely consider ordering a steak next time.

With scalding hot (and really Folger-esque) coffee served and knowing that I was in for a big meal that evening and while Matt had ordered a substantial steak plus crispy onion straws it was with some debate that we contemplated desserts when Bernard returned to the table, but after agreeing to at least look at the options we decided to go for it and with a “that’s the spirit” from our server we sat back and chatted as we waited.

Told that the desserts were all “made that morning in house” it would not be long before they would arrive – large and bold as expected – along with a bowl of “Schlag” – essentially hand whipped heavy cream with light sweetness and vanilla tones that you could easily stand a spoon up in.

Beginning first with Matt’s selection, the Apple Strudel I’d have ordered if he had not, I have to say that along with the coffee this was Peter Luger’s only failure of the afternoon because while the apples and cinnamon were good, the limp and chilly pastry dough simply showed the pre-made nature of the dish. Knowing full well that such comparisons are unfair I simply could not help but judge this Strudel against the textbook version served at The Modern just two days prior and – well – lets just say the creamy schlag balanced against the sweet apples was the high point of this dish while the pastry shell floundered.

Moving on to smaller but better, my choice of “traditional” Southern Pecan Pie turned out to be everything I’d hoped as the crisp golden crust supported the buttery brown sugar filling with ease while the sugar roasted Pecans were supple and plump with a great nutty flavor that mellowed the filling without muting it – of course a little schlag didn’t hurt here, either.

With plates cleared save for some of the strudel pastry and half the schlag Bernard returned again and asking us if there was anything else we’d like presented the bill and a pile of chocolate gold coins – a formidable $115 after tax and invited us to either pay him or pay at the booth on the way out. Electing for the booth as I had to pay with debit I’ll say here that while Bernard was pleasant the woman at the booth most certainly was not and without mustering a smile she thanked us for coming in and we were on our way – Matt happy to have finally eaten at the fabled Steakhouse and myself glad to have been there with him because whether a steak fan or not Peter Luger truly is the sort of place you need to experience for yourself; and all the better if you want a nice slab of beef.

DiFara, L&B, Motorino, Lucali, Paulie Gee's, Brooklyn NY

I’d found out we would be presenting at The 2nd World Congress on Interventional Therapies for Type 2 Diabetes in New York much later than I would have preferred. Don’t get me wrong, being selected to present at the Congress was an honor and it is not that I don’t love New York – but the fact of the matter was that I’d just been there the month prior and I was due to fly to Paris a mere 10 days after the Congress. Add in the fact that I’d had zero days off since my last trip due to working plenty of overtime to help offset some of the upcoming travel bills AND that this issue had me flying into New York after an overnight shift…eh, who am I kidding – sleep or no sleep I love to eat, I love New York and its people, and I love pizza – a confluence of interests that led to myself and three locals to meeting up for a Tour of some of Brooklyn’s (and America’s) most highly regarded Pizza spots.

With Steve 2 (as opposed to Steve 1) graciously offering to pick me up from LGA and Steve 1 (as opposed to Steve 2) graciously willing to do the leg work on getting to our first stop early to order the pie the “hop” would begin around 1:30pm at DiFara – a spot considered by many to be the best Pizza in America and often with an hour-plus line befitting such distinction – something I’d prefer avoid at any time, but particularly on my 34th sleepless hour save for a quick nap on the plane – thankfully luck was on our side and the drive went quickly, free parking was easily found, and by the time we arrived the pizza was in the oven.

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With pleasantries exchanged and promises of the fourth member of our group, Laura, arriving shortly the next ten or so minutes were spent talking about the history of the space, Dom’s meticulous methods, and the neighborhood. With news clippings as the small space’s only decoration and Dom meticulously crafting each pie while his daughter and son worked the counter and back room the space was packed – not a seat to be had – and as such when our first pie was ready we opted to eat right at the counter.

For our first taste of the day it would be a round pie – DiFara’s signature – half plain and half with mushrooms and semi-sun-dried tomatoes. While not truly “Neapolitan” given the style of the ancient oven and overall tender-yet-crisp chew to the crust, there is no doubt that the pie was the result of a serious craftsman working with serious ingredients. With the dough barely capable of supporting the trio of cheeses, sweet tomatoes, herbs, and dousing of extra virgin olive oil let alone the toppings and hand snipped basil each slice was a steaming hot oozing mélange of flavor – some dark and bubbly, others less crisp and more chewy. Preferring my pizza with a bit more rigidity I cannot say this was the best pie I’ve ever tasted, but I definitely understand the appeal and would certainly not hesitate to return.

With our fourth adventurer arriving the next item to arrive from the oven was the Sicilian – an enormous pie with just the essentials – that marvelous blend of cheese, an ample coating of San Marzano tomatoes, a lacquer of olive oil, and that hand snipped basil. An enormous pie – easily enough to feed four, this pizza was what I’d hoped for – it was perhaps the best “thick” slice of pizza I’ve ever encountered. With a buttery crust not unlike that of a deep dish in the Windy City but far more textural and nuanced each slice stood up admirably to the bounty of ingredients without being “too heavy” – a delicate balance that few pizzas manage. With myself eating three slices of the Sicilian and the others eating a slice or two each there was plenty to spare; thankfully it was boxed up and kept in Steve 2’s car or I’d have surely eaten more. Making our way from the small restaurant to our cars I remembered what a friend once told me about DiFara’s and I can’t say it any better myself – “You don’t go there just too eat Pizza – you go there to experience Pizza as an art form crafted by a master.”

Continuing along our previously determined route – 2 persons per car – our next stop would be one of the oldest in Brooklyn – L&B Spumoni Gardens. Having heard of this space from some local friends in the past but having never seen it mentioned on a “best of” list (actually, most of what I’d heard was quite negative aside from two glowing recommendations of the namesake Spumoni) I went into the experience with modest expectations – expectations seemingly warranted by the rather unkempt clientele (think track suits and fake-gold chains) and gaudy exterior (think neon lights)…..plus Steve 1’s statement that he wanted to bring us here as a “contrast” to DiFara’s – and that he wasn’t going to order any pizza.

More a full-fledged eatery than DiFara’s or the other spaces on our trip, the first thing I noted when entering the non-pizza half of L&B was the smell – it wasn’t “bad” but it reminded me of the ketchup factory near where I grew up – not a good sign since I saw spaghetti sauce and not a Heinz bottle. Following Steve 1’s lead and first ordering a small spumoni for a little over $2 I have to admit that although I’m pretty sure there was nothing artisan about the ingredients or organic about the colors this was some tasty ice cream – a bit more icy than creamy but absolutely loaded with faux-pistachio flavor, buttery almond/vanilla, and Hershey’s kisses tasting chocolate.

Making our way next door where Steve 2 and Laura had already taken a seat I was greeted by a burly smiling fellow serving up slices and when I ordered a single slice he gifted me a second for free as there were only two left in the pan – a nice gesture, even if it would turn out to be wasted. Taking a seat and subsequently a bite I instantly noted the previously “contrast” – this square slice was pretty terrible. With a doughy crust not terribly different from the frozen sort you’d expect from Costco topped with a sort of briny and bland sauce and grated parmesan plus what was undoubtedly bagged mozzarella (perhaps from Costco?) the only fair comparison I can make is to the square slices served up at Little Caesars in Joe Louis Arena when I was a child…a pizza I never really liked, but a pizza I always finished due to the excessive arena price and a pizza I’ll always remember due to the location. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?) for L&B the price was bargain basement so I had no trouble placing the second slice in the trash before leaving the memorable (for better or worse?) location.

Hopping to our cars and navigating the suddenly stiff traffic our next stop would be a somewhat “new kid” on the block – at least compared to our previous two visits. Opened in 2008 with a second location now inhabiting the abandoned Una Pizza location on the LES and considered by some (including the much maligned Sam Sifton,) to be the best in the city, I entered Motorino hoping for something revelatory and arriving just after 4:00pm I also entered a restaurant less than half full – another bit of good fortune given the fact that the journey was less than half over.

Seated quickly and offered beverages by our server, a young lady named Bryana who was friendly if not efficient, Steve 1 and I decided to place the order before the others arrived in order to save time. Given the fact that we were dining with two vegetarians both pies were ordered half-meat/half-without, though we were warned that we’d be charged full price regardless. With Steve opting for a Sprecher’s Root Beer and myself sticking with water it would be only a short while before the others would arrive – free parking yet again – and perhaps 20 minutes before the pizzas would arrive from the hand crafted oven.

Opting against standard options despite the fact that their margherita is quite well thought of, our first selection was the Pugliese with burrata, broccolini, chili flakes, garlic, and half sausage. Arriving still bubbly from the oven with nicely charred edges and a crust that was slightly puffy but crisp and not overly doughy due to what I believe was cornmeal, the mélange of flavors was perfectly balanced and although quite hot on the tongue, excellent. Obviously Neapolitan in influence with a wet center and plenty of olive oil the toppings were present in plethora and each bite was as good as the first.

Digging into the second pizza – a pie that landed on Food and Wine’s 25-best Pizzas in America this year – it was at this point that the restaurant began to fill up and also when I noticed the cheesy 80s pop music overhead. Normally I’d be a stickler for the sort of restaurant that could go from calm and welcoming to noisy and hip in a matter of seconds, but this time it barely mattered as I devoured my slice of Brussels Sprouts pizza with fior di latte, garlic, smoked pancetta, and pecorino. Similar in presentation to the first and definitely one of the more unique “new-style” flavor combinations I’ve experienced anywhere I was simply floored by the complementary nature of each flavor – every one acting to coax out subtleties from its partners without stealing the stage…it was only after we left that I realized I never tasted their tomato sauce – a misstep I’ll certainly have to correct on my next visit, though probably at the Manhattan spot and during brunch as I'd like to check out the egg pizza in addition to the oft-raved tiramisu for dessert.

For our next stop – let’s just say we left Motorino just on time, and barely. With traffic thinned out substantially we actually made excellent time trekking to Carroll Gardens but unfortunately there were no parking to be found for a good twenty minutes – twenty long minutes that would lead us past no less than four pizza parlors including our eventual destination – Lucali – yet another location dubbed by various national publications as the best Pizza in America.

With Steve-1 showing off his parallel parking skills a mere block away it was a quick walk to the doors of the small space and despite arriving at 5:45 we were thwarted – the first table available would be 7:15 according to the young lady at the door. Standing and waiting to inform our dining partners of the news and feeling a tad discouraged what happened next still leaves me puzzled, but regardless of the reason (I’m pretty sure the Pizza Gods simply loved our ambition) after approximately five minutes of waiting one of the folks ahead of us in line opted out of her seat and suddenly we owned a 6:00pm table for four.

With Steve telling us stories of Mark Iacono’s ground up (literally – he built the oven, the tables, and the chairs) operation and the months spent watching Dom make pies in order to perfect the art door to Lucali would open at six on the dot and we were quickly ushered in a table near the front – close enough to the window for some natural light to blend with the candles, but also with a great view of Mark as he worked the dough and chopped ingredients in a nearly Zen-like fashion – head always up and watching the room as a stark contrast to Dom’s nearly non-stop eye contact with the pie.

With only two options on the blackboard – Pizza or Calzone – and perhaps ten total ingredients to top the pie we opted for a single pie to split amongst the four of us – half with artichoke, half with portabella. Watching Mark work the dough, top it carefully, and place it in the wood burning brick oven while my friends chatted I had no doubt it was going to be good – it was like watching a ballet – but I had no idea it was going to be the best pizza I’ve ever tasted.

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With a thin crust – crispy, light, and irregularly bubbled yet able to hold up to the ingredients with ease, sweet tomato sauce with a hint of smoke and basil, and handmade mozzarella at its base the pie was exemplary. Pliable yet toothsome, sweet yet savory, slightly soggy at the center but not oversaturated with oil – really, no, I can’t top exemplary as a descriptor. Add on simple yet flawless mushrooms and sautéed artichoke hearts – my heart melted with each bite because I knew that at the end of the day I’d have to go back to eating Pizza that wasn’t this good.

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With the bill ($26 for a single pie) paid and our flirty server heckling us when we suggested we were heading elsewhere for more pizza (note, Mark’s brother recently opened a Pizzeria and we probably should have gone there too) we made our way outside to find the line longer than when we entered – clearly others already knew what I’d just learned – that something this good is something worth waiting for.

Walking away from Lucali towards the car, Steve-1’s wife would catch up with us for the final stop of our tour – the newest kid on the block and the only one that no one in our group had ever visited - Paulie Gee’s. A bit out of the way, decidedly hipster-trendy, and featuring an esoteric craft beer list and unique toppings (and names) for their pies I’m not sure any of us really knew what to expect, but when we arrived to a 20-30 minute wait it seemed that no matter what was inside it clearly had people lining up to experience it.

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Standing and chatting in the entry way as the wind outside had gotten a little too chilly for comfort it was only a matter of moments before we were inside at the bar and perhaps fifteen minutes total before we were seated. With the space quite dark and the noise level energetic but not deafening we shared a communal table for ten halfway between the entrance and the handmade stone oven and despite the packed nature of the space our service was excellent throughout the night. Starting with 2 pizzas and a bottle of wine as late 70’s/early 80’s rock played overhead I must say that of all the places we visited on the trek this was definitely the most fun and our conversation the most lively.

Opting for one tomato sauce pie and one of the more out of the ordinary options, each with half meat, our first choice was the “Regina” – a bubbly pie with a lot of character featuring Fior di Latte, Italian Tomatoes, Pecorino Romano, Olive Oil, Prosciutto di Parma, and Fresh Basil. With the cheese reportedly made from unpasteurized cow’s milk the flavor was surprisingly intense (with a likely assist from the Pecorino) and the other toppings fresh, but what made this pie stand out for me was the spring to the crust - it wasn't quite as Neapolitan "wet" at the center but instead had a hearty “chew” throughout without being “chewy” – a fine line many pies fail to walk so carefully.

For our second pie it seemed the rest of the table was finally beginning to get full (or else they just felt the need to indulge me as I ended up with three slices) but without overstating I think I can say it was one of the most unique pizza’s I’ve ever tasted. Titled Cherry Jones and featuring the same lovely Fior di Latte this time paired with Gorgonzola Cheese, Prosciutto di Parma, Dried Bing Cherries and Orange Blossom Honey – there really isn’t much I can say that you can’t imagine from the ingredients. Sweet meets savory, smoky meets creamy – all on that same fantastic springy crust – it could’ve been a main or dessert. Actually, for everyone but myself it was dessert.

Call me crazy or call me a glutton, but a great meal without dessert just seems wrong and part of the reason I decided on Paulie Gee’s as our last stop was indeed the dessert menu – a compellation of dessert pizzas, baked goods, and ice creams including one that really struck my interest - Van Leeuwen Artisan Dark Chocolate Ice Cream topped with Baconmarmalade. That’s right – deep, rich, velvety ice cream made with Michel Cluizel chocolate topped with crisp bacon reduced in spices to form a spicy pork “spread.” I really don’t need to tell you how sinfully good this was – I only wish the marmalade had been interspersed in the chocolate before it began to harden, but that was nothing a little bit of mashing with the spoon couldn’t handle. Thick Vosges Mo’s Bacon Bar, but Ice Cream, Spicy, and Better.

Having consumed 14 slices plus the ice cream and at that point going on my 40th sleepless hour (with a presentation to do the following day, no less) we settled the bill and made our way to the streets with some members of our group marveling at the fact that we’d just spent nearly 8 hours eating pizza but no one was overly full – a testament to good planning, excellent timing, spreading a meal out over time, and a lot of luck. With Steve-2 graciously (again) offering to drive me back to Manhattan I bid farewell to Steve-1 and his wife, climbed into the car, and surprisingly even managed to stay awake during the drive back to Manhattan. A great experience with great people – honestly, there is nothing I’d have changed…next visit; Manhattan Pizza Crawl. Who’s in?