Entries tagged with 'Sally's Apizza'
Posted by Ed Levine, May 23, 2008 at 1:00 PM
A pepperoni pie from Johnny's Pizzeria. This Mount Vernon, New York, pizza joint should be your first pizza stop on any road trip north of New York City.
Many New York–area pizza lovers may be headed to the shore this holiday weekend, to Connecticut or Rhode Island or Massachusetts—the northern half of what I called the Pizza Belt in my book Pizza: A Slice of Heaven. If you find yourself hungry, stuck in traffic or both, console yourself with a slice or pizza or two at any of the following places.
New York
In Yonkers, New York, there is a branch of Totonno's in a Holiday Inn, believe it or not. The coal oven there turns out very solid pies. Not quite up to the level of the original Totonno's in Coney Island, but very fine all the same. 125 Tuckahoe Road, Yonkers NY 10710
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Posted by Adam Kuban, October 30, 2006 at 3:05 PM
The previous post about Ed Levine's top pizza picks drew some emailed and IMed responses that the choices were mostly all coastal and that there were no Chicago joints on it whatsoever. Well, here's a list that ran earlier this month in USA Today. In it, Jeff Ruby, coauthor of Everybody Loves Pizza (along with Penny Pollack), gives the paper his and Ms. Pollack's top spots:
Metro Pizza [four locations, Las Vegas NV; metropizza.com]
"The pizza menu at this gourmet oasis in the desert reads like a map of regional flavors. With grilled shrimp on the New Orleans, barbecued chicken atop the Memphis and pineapple on the Honolulu, there's something for everybody...."
The Cheese Board Pizza Collective [1512 Shattuck Avenue, Berkeley CA 94709; map]
" 'The Cheese Board is a collective, owned by its members, that brings sustainable agriculture to the pizza table,' Ruby says. Each day the menu, featuring a single sourdough vegetarian pizza, is decided collectively by the group...."
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Posted by Adam Kuban, October 30, 2006 at 11:48 AM
Pity poor Ed Levine. When his workday doesn't involve ordering one of each doughnut at a well-regarded New York City doughnuttery, he gets to eat pizza from some of the country's best pizzerias and write about it for Details magazine. His findings cover some familiar ground to readers of Slice and of Mr. Levine's 2005 book PIzza: A Slice of Heaven, but there are some new entries to be savored.
Pizzeria Bianco [623 East Adams Street, Phoenix AZ 85004; map]
"The sauce tastes like a distillation of the ripest tomatoes."
Di Fara[1424 Avenue J, Brooklyn NY 11230; map]
"... a Di Fara slice has a one-of-a-kind flavor."
Totonno's [1524 Neptune Ave., Brooklyn NY 11224; map]
"Order the white pie, made with ricotta, mozzarella, and enough fresh garlic to ward off a roomful of vampires."
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Posted by Ed Levine, February 16, 2006 at 8:43 AM
Here's the American Pizzeria Timeline, which includes only two non–Pizza Belt entries, Tommaso's and Uno's:
1905: Lombardi's, on Spring Street in New York City, is granted the nation's first license to sell pizza.
1910: Joe's Tomato Pies opens in the Trenton, New Jersey, Chambersburg neighborhood.
1912: Papa's Tomato Pies in Trenton opened by Papa, who learned his trade at Joe's.
1924: Anthony (Totonno) Pero leaves Lombardi's and opens Totonno's in Coney Island, New York.
1925: Frank Pepe opens on Wooster Street in New Haven, Connecticut.
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Posted by Ed Levine, February 15, 2006 at 11:10 AM
You've heard of the corn belt and the rust belt. But what about the Pizza Belt, the part of America that gave birth to what Jeffrey Steingarten calls Neapolitan-American pizza. The Pizza Belt starts in Philadelphia and runs through Trenton and the rest of New Jersey. It extends throughout New York, Long Island, and New Haven and ends in Boston. Think of it as the Interstate 95 belt, with a few detours along the way.
It was in New York that Neapolitan immigrant and grocery store owner Gennaro Lombardi was granted the nation's first Ilcense to sell pizza in 1905. Lombardi's, in turn, spawned Totonno's in 1924 and John's in 1929 and, in an apparently unrelated move, Patsy's in East Harlem in 1933. Joe's Tomato Pies opened in Trenton in 1910, followed by Papa's Tomato Pies in 1912. New Haven was next, where a Neapolitan immigrant Italian bread baker named Frank Pepe opened his eponymous Pizzeria Napoletana in 1925, followed in short order by Paul's Apizza in 1932, State Street Apizza (now called Modern Apizza) in 1934 and finally Sally's in 1938 (founded by Frank Pepe's nephew, Salvatore Consiglio). In Philadelphia, Salvatore and Chiarina Marra opened Marra's in 1927. The Tacconelli family started baking bread in their Port Richmond neighborhood in the 1920s, though they didn't start making pizza until 1946. Similarly, in East Boston, Francisco Santarpio baked bread at his eponymous bakery until Prohibition ended in 1933, when he took over the adjoining storefront and began serving pizza. Seven years before that, Anthony Polcari opened Pizzeria Regina in Boston's North End.
Why did all these pizzerias start in the same 33-year period? What did they have in common? Did Frank Pepe work at Lombardi's before moving to New Haven? Here's what we do know. There was a tremendous wave of southern Italian immigration in the late nineteenth century. These immigrants all came in through Ellis Island, and then fanned out along the Eastern Seaboard looking for work among relatives, neighbors, and friends who had come from the same area in Italy. New York, of course, was where they landed, so it made sense for a certain number of them to look for and find work there. Trenton had hundreds of thousands of manufacturing jobs and a burgeoning Itallan-American community called Chambersburg. New Haven had many factories (including Colt Industries), as well as a plethora of fishing and port-related jobs. Philadelphia (South Philly) and Boston (East Boston and the North End) both had fast-growing Italian-American communities with thriving commercial centers.
What can we conclude from all this? That the development of America's pizza culture closely followed southern Italian immigration patterns. If the southern Italians had come into this country through Duluth, Minnesota might have been known as the Land of a Thousand Pizzas.
Ed Levine is a regular contributor to the New York Times Dining section and is author of New York Eats and New York Eats More. He also maintains a blog: Ed Levine Eats. This entry is an excerpt from his book Pizza: A Slice of Heaven, published on Slice through special arrangement.
Posted by Adam Kuban, August 24, 2005 at 8:51 AM
Q: I love your site and use it often for finding a new pie to try... I read your review for Sally's awhile back and really liked it as I've had the chance to sample their pies on more than one occasion. As far as there being reservations, there's a secret phone number that longtime customers are given after a long patronage. You can also pick up pies this way. My girlfriend's family are big Sally's devotees so I've had the pleasure of jumping the line a couple times.
Anyways, the reason I'm writing is I'm wondering what pie, in your opinion, in the New York metro area is most similar to Sally's? Especially in the crust department. I've noticed that Sally's is much thinner and more burnt than I've found in NY. Any suggestions? — D.A.
A: You've got Slice stumped there, D.A. We've never had a pie here in the New York City area that's been quite like Sally's. (And say what you will about gruff New Yorkers, we've never, ever had service here as rude as Sally's.) Let's open this one up to our readers: You all know of any place that fits the bill here? If so, leave your mark in the Comments section of this entry. — The Editors
This is the inaugural Dear Slice column. Readers with pizza questions are encouraged to write to us at adam (at) sliceny (dot) com.
Posted by Adam Kuban, September 1, 2004 at 11:45 PM
dynamic duo Sally's Apizza and Frank Pepe's Pizzeria Napoletana were the two stops Slice made during the Pizza Club road trip to New Haven, Conn., on Saturday. Plenty of pizza was ordered from both venerable establishments. Above left is a large mozzarella pie from Sally's; above right, a large mozzarella pie (background) and a large white-clam pie (foreground) from Pepe's. Both pizzerias are so popular that lines form down the block, as can be seen below (Sally's left, Pepe's right).
words by Adam K. :: photographs by Adam K. and Amanda G. | When last we left you, we had just finished eating at Frank Pepe's, one of New Haven's storied pizzerias. The folks at Pepe's showed us a good time and we ate lots and lots of pizza. "Lots and lots" is an understatement. We were gorged. As in eyes bigger than stomachs. Frankly, we were worried that we wouldn't have room for Sally's Apizza, which is just a couple blocks west of Pepe's on Wooster Street. But, we figured, we'd have to wait on line at Sally's and would be hungry by the time we got in.
On line by 4:40 p.m., we waited until a few minutes after 5. That's when someone flipped the lock, opened the door, and asked, "Anyone with reservations? Come on." So there is a secret reservation system. Slice had heard from Ed Levine when we ran into him at Totonno's that there were special times you could call to get reservations, and this confirmed it. A party of 10 jumped ahead by virtue of its reservations, but since we were the second party in line, we were among the first seating of the day.
What greeted us was a charmingly rec-roomish wood-paneled dining area. With its gilt-frame photos, big comfy vinyl booths, and 1960s light fixtures, it looked like the neighborhood pub your gramps took you to when he had to watch you for the day but still wanted a beer with his buddies (think Archie Bunker's Place, or just take a gander at the photo at left). Some folks in our party felt the decor left something to be desired; this reporter felt right at home. But we weren't there for the atmosphere—we were there for the pizza, and after about 10 minutes, our waiter came over to apprise us of the daily specials and take our order.
Still stuffed from the fare at Pepe's, we figured we'd go for three medium pies: one with mozzarella (or, "mootz"), one white clam, and one from the specials menu—topped with thinly sliced potato and onion. Our waiter seemed disappointed with the order, advising us that one medium would feed two people at most and that we had a party of 10. "We've eaten a lot today. I think we'll be fine with the three mediums to start. We'll order more if we're still hungry."
Uh uh. Big no. We were told that the lag time between ordering and receiving was such that it wouldn't be prudent to employ this strategy. After a little more back and forth with the waiter on how much pizza would feed how many people, we stuck to our guns—and with our original order. To that we added a round of beers for half the table, an assortment of sodas, and water all around.
I don't know if it was at this point that our waiter deemed us less than human, but we might as well get this out of the way: If it's good service you want, you should not sally forth to Sally's Apizza. From this point on, we might as well have been dead to the staff at this place. Pizza persona non grata. Public-pizza enemies Nos. 1 through 10. You get the picture.
It was hot as the devil in the front of the dining room (you can see how sapped the gang was at right), and it took about fifteen minutes before the drinks arrived. One pitcher of water for ten folks and only eight glasses. Numerous requests for additional glasses were met with complete stonewalling at best and silent contempt at worst—all while the table of what appeared to locals behind us had no trouble getting many rounds of orange sodas. At one point, one of our normally mild-mannered pizza club members grumbled, "This goddam pizza better be f**kin' good, 'cause this goddam service f**kin' sucks."
Did I mention it was hot in there? The weird thing was that when you ventured to the curiously secure bathrooms, it was icy cold near the oven. (They must use the majority of the aircon power to keep the kitchen staff comfortable at the expense of the patrons.)
But enough grumbling. The pizza was sublime. The mozz pie (above) was consistently thin and crisp and gained an interesting texture from a scattering of cornmeal on the bottom. We imagine Sally's uses the cornmeal to keep the pie from sticking to the peel as they slide it into the oven. Absent were the puffy doughy regions that were evident at Pepe's. A member of our group said he thought that Pepe's was great New Haven pizza, but that this pie was like "gourmet New Haven pizza—a notch above." As at Pepe's, it seemed the oil had again separated from the cheese and had helped almost "fry" it on top, turning it golden-brownish orange (above and right).
The clam pie, too, was good, but consensus was that Pepe's, with its whole clams, was better. And the potato-and-onion pie was delicious—crisp on the bottom (crust) and top (thinly sliced potato) and spiked with rosemary and oregano.
After eating, we were eager to leave. It was just too hot, we were too stuffed, and we were tired from digesting the copious amount of clams, cheese, and crust in our stomachs. Again, it was next to impossible to get the waiter's attention. We eventually had to get up and grab someone to come bring us the check, but not after we considered trying the old dine and dash. I mean, heck, they weren't paying attention to us anyway, so why not? But we at Slice are upstanding citizens, and we settled up what we owed and left without incident.
It was at that point that the Cat Price guys came by, camera in hand, to get our thoughts on the experience. In a nutshell: Pepe's for clam pies, Sally's for mozz; Pepe's for friendly welcoming service, Sally's if you want to feel like a Republican delegate in New York City for the GOP convention (or a New York–pizza advocate in New Haven).
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Tien Mao on the trip to New Haven.
Joe Schumacher on the trip.
New Haven discussion on the Slice Pizza Peel.
Pizza Therapy on Sally's Apizza.
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Posted by Adam Kuban, August 29, 2004 at 11:47 PM
dynamic duo Frank Pepe's Pizzeria Napoletana and Sally's Apizza were the two stops Slice made during the Pizza Club road trip to New Haven, Conn., on Saturday. Plenty of pizza was ordered from both venerable establishments. Above left is a large mozzarella pie (background) and a large white-clam pie (foreground) from Pepe's; above right is a large mozzarella pie from Sally's. Both pizzerias are so popular that lines form down the block, as can be seen below (Pepe's left, Sally's right).
words by Adam K. :: photographs by Adam K. and Amanda G. | Three cars. Seventy-nine point nine miles. Ten people. Two pizzerias. Nine pies. One hundred and twenty-some dollars. That's the Slice New Haven trip by the numbers.
We left Greenpoint, Brooklyn, at 12:30 p.m. Saturday and arrived at Wooster Street, home to New Haven's famous Frank Pepe's and Sally's Apizza, around 3 p.m. We were there to try New Haven–style pie, which only a few among us had had before. We'd heard that the pizza in this seaside Connecticut town was as good as, if not better than, New York's best and we wanted to try for ourselves. Our plan was to get hit Frank Pepe's around 2 p.m., eat some pie, take some photos, talk to some folks, and then get out and get in line at Sally's Apizza by 4:30 p.m. for the joint's 5 p.m. opening. (A kind reader had tipped us that we needed to be outside Sally's by that time to get in for the first seating of the day.)
We arrived a little later than planned and got on line at Pepe's around 3:15 p.m. After a 15-minute wait, we were in. The short wait gave Seltzerboy and I a chance to talk to filmmakers Michael Dorian and Joe dos Santos (left, from left) of Cat Price Productions. The pair were shooting video for a documentary about pizza and were in New Haven killing two birds with one stone—documenting Pepe's and talking to Slice editors.
The prospect of appearing on the silver screen was appealing, but we were hungry, and our table was ready. We crammed eight people (two would show up about 15 minutes later and take a second table) into a long booth and were greeted by Donna (right), our superfriendly waitress. Donna welcomed us to Pepe's and was more patient with us than we probably deserved, what with us getting up, taking photos, wandering around to look at the enormous kitchen and gigantic oven, and asking tons of questions. Her down-to-earth charm was the first of many differences between Pepe's and Sallys, but more on that later. We were relieved to see her remove the "No Clam Pies Available Today" sign from the door soon after we sat down. This is New Haven, afterall; clam pies are said to have been invented here, and we had to sample one at each place.
We ordered three large pizzas. One white (no sauce) clam pie, one with mushrooms, and one with mozzarella. Now in New York, we'd call that a "plain" pie. But New Haven ain't New York, and when we ordered a "plain" pie, Donna asked us, "What do you mean by 'plain'? 'Plain' here is just red sauce with a sprinkling of Parmesan, flavored with garlic and oregano." Hence we ordered "one with mozzarella." But the New Haven–style plain pie sounded good too, so we ordered a small one (left foreground; in the background, Seltzerboy holds a mozzarella slice, crust-side up to show the camera the tasty bits of charring from the coal-fired oven).
One of the main differences between New Haven and New York pizza is the crust. While still a thin crust, it's a little thicker and doughier than New York–style. Second is the sauce-and-cheese balance; New Haven pie seems to run a little heavier on the sauce. At Pepe's, this wasn't a bad thing, as the pizzeria's mixture had an exceptionally fresh tangy tomatoey taste. Nor was it a problem at Sally's, but the sauce didn't seem as, well, peppy. Third is that both New Haven places seemed to leave the pies in long enough that the oil separated from the cheese, rose to the top of the pie, and almost seemed to "fry" the mozzarella, giving it a mottled golden-brown color. These factors were true of both Pepe's and Sally's and are visible in the pie shown at right, which is from Sally's.
But, back to Pepe's. The pies arrived about 20 minutes after ordering. We found out that "large" was an understatement. They were huge, oblong, roughly 20-inch-diameter pies cut into numerous irregularly sized slices (see photos at top for an idea). The crust among all the large pies was pretty consistent: crisp, chewy, and light with a golden-brown bottom with evidence of the tell-tale coal-oven char here and there. It was doughy almost like bread and had a nice salty taste that complemented the tangy fresh tomato sauce. While consistent among pies, the crust thickness varied from superthin to puffy thick on each pie, often becoming puffiest at the end crust, resulting in "too much empty real estate for my taste," as Amanda G. noted. (See the photo at left, just above; the slice on the left illustrates the puffy lost-real-estate concept.) Even in these spots, though, the worst that happens is that you end up eating what "tastes like really good Cosi bread," as pizza-clubber Joe D. put it.
With such a large group, opinion was all over the place, but the mushroom pie was the unanimous last-place finisher. The mushrooms were rubbery and looked like they might have been the canned variety. Though not everyone's favorite, the top pie was the white clam. With fresh whole clams (below left) cooked perfectly, it was more about what the clams weren't—they weren't rubbery or too "clammy" tasting and didn't leave a bad aftertaste as low-quality clams often do.
classic fare Must-have dishes at Pepe's are the white-clam pie (above left) and the mozzarella pie (above right). A portrait of Frank Pepe (below right) hangs on a wall at his restaurant.
Slice correspondent Tien Mao inquired as to the origins of the clam pie and was told that Frank Pepe himself came up with the idea as a lark. The local fishermen in New Haven always had bushels of clams on hand, and Mr. Pepe had the idea of putting them on pizza. After baking one up, he was surprised it worked and hence the clam pie was born. By the time we left Pepe's (around 4:15 p.m.), we were told that Pepe's had gone through six bushels of clams since opening at 11:30 a.m. I had to look up how big a bushel was, and it's 35.239 liters. Six bushels equals roughly 223 quarts, or about 56 gallons (give or take some for dry-weight/liquid-measure discrepancies).
Want another amazing number? How about 500 pies a day? That's roughly how many we were told came out of Pepe's enormous oven. On a Saturday, that's 1.33 pies every minute. And the oven is more than capable of handling this volume. Perhaps one of the most striking things about Pepe's is its gargantuan oven with gigantic prep area and oarlike pizza peels to match.
carrying coal to new haven The beast above is the oven at Pepe's. That's not a wall with an oven built in. That whole thing is the oven. One worker is using what appeared to be a vacuum cleaner to sweep out dusting flour while another sweeps up what looked like ashes. OK, now see the photo below right? See that wooden stick running parallel with the counter? That's the handle of a pizza peel. That handle is the depth of the oven. Did I not say the oven was big?
The oven floored us all. The pizza peels were long. We're talking looooooong. So long that the board end of the paddle rested on a special shelf bulit into the oven wall and the handle then extended upward at a 45-degree angle and rested on a hook built into the ceiling (see Joe Schumacher's post, fifth photo, for reference). At one point, the pizzaiolo at the oven opened the coal door (see Tien's sixth photo) and you could feel the heat from about 25 feet away.
This oven, however, is not the original. Don't get me wrong. It's as old as it looks—circa 1936—but the original oven, and the original Pepe's, is just around the corner. Called "The Spot," this original location, established in 1925, was so popular that Pepe's had to expand in 1936 to the building we've documented here. The original building's coal-fired oven dates to the 1880s.
After eating, Slice met Gary Bimonte, Mr. Pepe's grandson and a co-owner and manager of the place. Mr. Bimonte, who was as welcoming as his wait staff, related bits of Pepe's history, noting that the place has served presidents Reagan and Clinton (Bill really likes the pizza, huh?) and that it was once slated to host Hillary but the Secret Service nixed it ("Too many rooftops around here," Mr. Bimonte said, "We ended up catering that one off-site").
All total, we dropped $100 at Pepe's—including tip—for the four pies, two pitchers of beers, and one bottle of diet birch beer. We estimate that Greg and Mike at the second table spent about $16. That $12.50 per person bought so much food that we were stuffed long before we even made it to Sally's Apizza, just down the street. What about Sally's, you ask? More to come later today ...
For now, click through to the jump to see photo outtakes from the day.
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Tien Mao on the trip to New Haven.
Joe Schumacher on the trip.
New Haven discussion on the Slice Pizza Peel
Pizza Therapy on Frank Pepe's.
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