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Started By
Message
TulaneLSU's Top 10 things eaten on a 77 mile New York walk
Posted on 9/13/24 at 4:58 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 4:58 pm
Dear Friends,
New York is the center of the world. Ask someone on TD where the center is and you will get several answers, from New Orleans to Bawcomville to Ferriday. Each of these places is wonderful in its own way, but when honesty is forced, we too confess that New York is the axis mundi. As New York goes, the world goes.
There is no place as alive and kinetic, so full of life, as New York. From the new steps leading from the depths of Penn Station to the courts at Rucker Park in Harlem, where I have been known to surprise and impress. From Arthur Avenue to Mulberry Street, from Doyers to Brooklyn’s Eighth Avenue, from El Barrio to Corona Avenue, the great experiment of America is never better articulated and produced than on the sidewalks of our greatest city.
Flying in, there is nothing better than catching a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, for she reminds us that New York is our most feminine city, a city for and of Mothers. The New Colossus:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
It is the city where Mother and I enjoy traveling more than any other. The Plaza is our home away from home, but several times every year, our cousins on the Upper East Side invite us to stay, as was the case last week. Now that all three New York airports have been updated, getting to and from New Orleans is easier than crossing Baton Rouge at rush hour. Direct flights from MSY are cheap, and public transit from JFK, LGA, and EWR to the city center is a breeze. I broke two personal records last week.
First, from EWR to Penn Station on the Northeast Corridor, I managed a time of 43 minutes from seatbelts off to steps off the train at Penn, and for a paltry $16.80. From Grand Central to JFK, I also set my personal best at 36 minutes, and the cost was just $16.75 (off-peak pricing). Perhaps one day I shall make a post on step by step use of public transit to and from each of the three airports, as so many on our Travel Board seem to think that Uber and taxis are necessary. I am not against taking a helicopter into the city from the airport, but when given the option of a taxi versus train, the train wins nine out of ten times.
The impetus for this trip was not just the familial invitation, but also we wanted to wish Una Pizza Napoletana’s Anthony Mangieri adieu before he traveled to Italy for the Top 50 Pizza international awards ceremony and his own wedding. As most of you know, I average eating at three different pizzerias daily, meaning over a year’s time I visit about 1000 pizzerias, enabling me to provide my reasonably accurate Top 100 pizzas of America list each year. Frequent visits to New York make my daily average possible.
There is no bad time to visit New York. The coldest parts of winter or the wettest part of the summer can make for a charming stay. Christmas in the city, of course, is magical. But if you’re interested in the best weather, the Farmers Almanac, a more reliable source than “professional” cloud-computer watchers at the National Hurricane Center, will tell you September is unbeatable.
For the last decade, I have made a rule about September visits: No use of cars, buses, or subways once arrived from the airport. It is entirely feet, bicycles, or water taxis. The beautiful weather encourages it, but it is best to make it a rule, so when your feet grow weary and sore, you do not succumb to the temptation of the easy ride home. On this five day trip I clocked 77 miles walked and 27 miles biked.
On Day One, I left MSY early, around 6 and arrived in Newark by 9:30, thanks to a friendly jetstream. It was not long before I was at the new Penn Station, which is so much nicer than it was 20 years ago. Penn Station was once a perpetual mess, a filthy and unwelcoming place. Renovations over the last year have provided for a beautiful setting. The new Plaza 33 is a great sitting area. Newspapers, including The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times, are provided free of charge there. Anita Gelato and Roberta’s have opened up world class locations. I can only imagine how much greater the area will get over the next five year. What was once an area to avoid is now a place to see and be seen. Enjoy it now before it becomes a tourist magnet.
Roberta’s started way out in Bushwick, and the original location is a bit grungy, but has always made a solid Neapolitan pie. The new location, while trying to play tribute to the original, is, on the surface a Disney World version of the first.
One of our cousins who lives there has sung the praises of R Slice, the new slice shop tacked on to Roberta’s like a pillion seat. For most of history, Penn Station has only had one suitable pizza option nearby – NY Pizza Suprema. Would R Slice give it competition? I was about to find out.
Although the Forni oven is at the center of the slice shop, the 20” pies are actually made in a gas deck oven in the back. The sourdough, according to one of the workers, is proofed 48-72 hours. One of the hallmarks of the new gourmet slice shops, like L’industrie, Mama’s Too, Lucia’s of Ave X, and Paulie Gee’s Slice Shop is the long proofing. Plain silces, as you can see, are reasonable at $4. On the other side of Madison Square Garden, Suprema is charging $4.50.
Roberta’s proper, a sit down Neapolitan pizza restaurant, is upstairs. I do not like the demonic looking walls, which reflect the original location’s painting. Here was an opportunity to start with a fresh palate and the designer fell into old habits.
I got two slices, the plain and the clam. The plain was absolutely mesmerizing. The slices are prebaked and then reheated in small Bakers Pride ovens once ordered. Then the slices are sprinkled with Pecorino, a generous amount of sea salt, olive oil, and basill. The plain is arguably the best slice available in the city today. The clam was $6, and was good, but the spicy pepper sauce on it distracted from the clams. I would not get the clam again. I wish I had gotten the Fire and Ice instead. Final score on the plain slice was 9.11. The clam was a 7.10.
Sitting in the public courtyard at street level on a sunny 70 degree day, watching the thousands of interesting people pass was as elucidating an experience as any Broadway play I have watched. When my slices were finished, I had a few hours on my own, as I awaited Mother’s arrival from DC, where she was visiting a friend.
Walking through New York is one of my favorite things to do in the city. Every block has millions of stories to tell, and I love returning to places I have visited to flip on a memory. I knew that Mother was planning on joining me at Roberta’s, so I did not want to eat too much pizza. As I passed Da Michele, home of the second best Neapolitan pizza in America, I considered it, but foolishly, I decided to keep walking.
New York is the center of the world. Ask someone on TD where the center is and you will get several answers, from New Orleans to Bawcomville to Ferriday. Each of these places is wonderful in its own way, but when honesty is forced, we too confess that New York is the axis mundi. As New York goes, the world goes.
There is no place as alive and kinetic, so full of life, as New York. From the new steps leading from the depths of Penn Station to the courts at Rucker Park in Harlem, where I have been known to surprise and impress. From Arthur Avenue to Mulberry Street, from Doyers to Brooklyn’s Eighth Avenue, from El Barrio to Corona Avenue, the great experiment of America is never better articulated and produced than on the sidewalks of our greatest city.
Flying in, there is nothing better than catching a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, for she reminds us that New York is our most feminine city, a city for and of Mothers. The New Colossus:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
It is the city where Mother and I enjoy traveling more than any other. The Plaza is our home away from home, but several times every year, our cousins on the Upper East Side invite us to stay, as was the case last week. Now that all three New York airports have been updated, getting to and from New Orleans is easier than crossing Baton Rouge at rush hour. Direct flights from MSY are cheap, and public transit from JFK, LGA, and EWR to the city center is a breeze. I broke two personal records last week.
First, from EWR to Penn Station on the Northeast Corridor, I managed a time of 43 minutes from seatbelts off to steps off the train at Penn, and for a paltry $16.80. From Grand Central to JFK, I also set my personal best at 36 minutes, and the cost was just $16.75 (off-peak pricing). Perhaps one day I shall make a post on step by step use of public transit to and from each of the three airports, as so many on our Travel Board seem to think that Uber and taxis are necessary. I am not against taking a helicopter into the city from the airport, but when given the option of a taxi versus train, the train wins nine out of ten times.
The impetus for this trip was not just the familial invitation, but also we wanted to wish Una Pizza Napoletana’s Anthony Mangieri adieu before he traveled to Italy for the Top 50 Pizza international awards ceremony and his own wedding. As most of you know, I average eating at three different pizzerias daily, meaning over a year’s time I visit about 1000 pizzerias, enabling me to provide my reasonably accurate Top 100 pizzas of America list each year. Frequent visits to New York make my daily average possible.
There is no bad time to visit New York. The coldest parts of winter or the wettest part of the summer can make for a charming stay. Christmas in the city, of course, is magical. But if you’re interested in the best weather, the Farmers Almanac, a more reliable source than “professional” cloud-computer watchers at the National Hurricane Center, will tell you September is unbeatable.
For the last decade, I have made a rule about September visits: No use of cars, buses, or subways once arrived from the airport. It is entirely feet, bicycles, or water taxis. The beautiful weather encourages it, but it is best to make it a rule, so when your feet grow weary and sore, you do not succumb to the temptation of the easy ride home. On this five day trip I clocked 77 miles walked and 27 miles biked.
On Day One, I left MSY early, around 6 and arrived in Newark by 9:30, thanks to a friendly jetstream. It was not long before I was at the new Penn Station, which is so much nicer than it was 20 years ago. Penn Station was once a perpetual mess, a filthy and unwelcoming place. Renovations over the last year have provided for a beautiful setting. The new Plaza 33 is a great sitting area. Newspapers, including The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times, are provided free of charge there. Anita Gelato and Roberta’s have opened up world class locations. I can only imagine how much greater the area will get over the next five year. What was once an area to avoid is now a place to see and be seen. Enjoy it now before it becomes a tourist magnet.
Roberta’s started way out in Bushwick, and the original location is a bit grungy, but has always made a solid Neapolitan pie. The new location, while trying to play tribute to the original, is, on the surface a Disney World version of the first.
One of our cousins who lives there has sung the praises of R Slice, the new slice shop tacked on to Roberta’s like a pillion seat. For most of history, Penn Station has only had one suitable pizza option nearby – NY Pizza Suprema. Would R Slice give it competition? I was about to find out.
Although the Forni oven is at the center of the slice shop, the 20” pies are actually made in a gas deck oven in the back. The sourdough, according to one of the workers, is proofed 48-72 hours. One of the hallmarks of the new gourmet slice shops, like L’industrie, Mama’s Too, Lucia’s of Ave X, and Paulie Gee’s Slice Shop is the long proofing. Plain silces, as you can see, are reasonable at $4. On the other side of Madison Square Garden, Suprema is charging $4.50.
Roberta’s proper, a sit down Neapolitan pizza restaurant, is upstairs. I do not like the demonic looking walls, which reflect the original location’s painting. Here was an opportunity to start with a fresh palate and the designer fell into old habits.
I got two slices, the plain and the clam. The plain was absolutely mesmerizing. The slices are prebaked and then reheated in small Bakers Pride ovens once ordered. Then the slices are sprinkled with Pecorino, a generous amount of sea salt, olive oil, and basill. The plain is arguably the best slice available in the city today. The clam was $6, and was good, but the spicy pepper sauce on it distracted from the clams. I would not get the clam again. I wish I had gotten the Fire and Ice instead. Final score on the plain slice was 9.11. The clam was a 7.10.
Sitting in the public courtyard at street level on a sunny 70 degree day, watching the thousands of interesting people pass was as elucidating an experience as any Broadway play I have watched. When my slices were finished, I had a few hours on my own, as I awaited Mother’s arrival from DC, where she was visiting a friend.
Walking through New York is one of my favorite things to do in the city. Every block has millions of stories to tell, and I love returning to places I have visited to flip on a memory. I knew that Mother was planning on joining me at Roberta’s, so I did not want to eat too much pizza. As I passed Da Michele, home of the second best Neapolitan pizza in America, I considered it, but foolishly, I decided to keep walking.
This post was edited on 9/14/24 at 9:17 pm
7
Posted on 9/13/24 at 4:58 pm to TulaneLSU
After five minutes to ponder that pizza, I approached Joe’s in Greenwich Village and succumbed to the temptation of eating a boring slice. It is the quintessential 1970s New York pizza. Sure, I enjoy Joe’s, but with so many better options today, Joe’s should never be at the front of your mind.I arrived just as a fresh pie was taken out the oven. Solid. 6.98.
Greenwich Village is the new capital of pizza in New York. Stalwarts like John’s of Bleecker Street, Joe’s, Arturo’s, Bleecker Street Pizza have in recent years been joined by Mama’s Too, L’industrie, and my second pizza of the day, Song’E Napule.
I was not planning on eating at SEN, but the outdoor seating was too inviting to pass. It had been two years since my last visit. Since that time, they have moved a few numbers down Howston to a much bigger space.
The beautiful day and street dining brought me back to dining in Rome, but unfortunately, Song’E’s quality has significantly dropped since my last visit. The dough seemed rushed, used too much flour, and lacked Neapolitan character. This was the Neapolitan equivalent to a 99 cent NY slice. 6.22. The presentation remains top notch, and the cutting knife always fun.
One of my favorite Brooklyn slice shops is Lucia’s of Avenue X. It is a long way down there, so I was happy to learn that recently Lucia’s opened a post near Tribeca. It even has a neighboring dessert shop. The design of the new location is perfect – efficient, sharp, and evoking Avenue X memories. The pizza makers are skilled and clearly proud of the product they are producing. I did not see Sal there, as he spends most of his time at the Sheepshead Bay original. Lucia’s is famous for their clam pies and vodka pies, which Sal says originate from his parent’s Papa Leone’s, once an institution in Brooklyn. I have heard rumors, though, that the clam pie recipe, is actually from the late, great Andrew Bellucci, who popularized and perfected the clam pie, a longtime favorite in New Haven, in New York during his time at Lombardi’s. Lucia’s plain slice is excellent, and the finishing touch of grated Pecorino is just the right touch.
I was curious to see how the preparations for The Feast of San Gennaro were coming along on Mulberry Street. The festival is bright and crowded, but I do not think it is worth planning a visit unless you are already there. I was fascinated watching the electricians run cheap wires through the street, using extension cords and many manners of electrical work that is certainly not up to code. I do not need another family after me, so I have yet to report it to the fire marshall.
Rubirosa looks beautiful as always. My goal was to get a slice there. Before the Pandemic, Rubirosa sold slices at their drink counter at lunchtime. But since 2021, each time I have tried to get a slice, like I would at Joe & Pat’s, I have been told they no longer do slices. Today was no different. And because I did not have room for another 20” pie in my stomach, I continued around the corner to Prince Street Pizza.
A camera crew was filming staff removing celebrity photos from the wall at Prince Street (believe it or not a photograph of me is on this wall) and replacing them with photos of first responders who died in 9/11. Paulie Gee’s did the same thing, as did a few other pizzerias. I once loved the Spicy Spring, a square Sicilian piece with cupped pepperonis. But as I have grown older and wiser, I have found myself wanting pepperoni on pizza exactly never. It has been years since I last had pepperoni ruin one of my pizzas.
After meandering about the Lower East Side, where every storefront and crack tells a story of America, the time for Mother’s arrival approached. My walk back passed the Farmers Market at Madison Square Park near the Flatiron building. I purchased some bichrome okra and Concord grapes to snack on for the remainder of the walk. It is a rare treat to get fresh Concord grapes. Most of you will recognize the flavor from grape juice and grape jelly. If you ever have the opportunity to try a fresh Concord, grasp it. The skin is ever so delicate and the flesh so smooth. The season is short – late August and September – and getting fresh ones outside New England and the Mid Atlantic is difficult. At $8 for a small container, they are much more than the typical grape in our grocery stores. But the rare treat is worth it.
Mother was in one of her fetching summer dresses, elegant as ever as she exited Moynihan Hall. I distracted her as we walked up the psychedelically painted interior steps at Roberta’s. We chose to eat outdoors on the Roberta’s rooftop.
One of the pizzaiolos at Roberta’s, and forgive me for not remembering his name, trained under Anthony Mangieri at Una. Although I do not like his large lobular earrings which deface one of the most exquisite parts of the human body, he is known as a master pie maker. I do not think he made ours today, as our Rosso, with just San Marzano, garlic, and oregano, was a bit overcharred. 5.89
Next door was Anita Gelato, which is an Israeli company that specializes in style and beautiful Instagram photo-worthy gelato. I was quite hungry still, so ordered the 3-4 scoop cup, which looked tiny, yet was $11. The gelato girl filled it well beyond my wildest hopes. It was a mountain of gelato. The strawberry was best, followed by raspberry, and then chocolate. 7.52.
Greenwich Village is the new capital of pizza in New York. Stalwarts like John’s of Bleecker Street, Joe’s, Arturo’s, Bleecker Street Pizza have in recent years been joined by Mama’s Too, L’industrie, and my second pizza of the day, Song’E Napule.
I was not planning on eating at SEN, but the outdoor seating was too inviting to pass. It had been two years since my last visit. Since that time, they have moved a few numbers down Howston to a much bigger space.
The beautiful day and street dining brought me back to dining in Rome, but unfortunately, Song’E’s quality has significantly dropped since my last visit. The dough seemed rushed, used too much flour, and lacked Neapolitan character. This was the Neapolitan equivalent to a 99 cent NY slice. 6.22. The presentation remains top notch, and the cutting knife always fun.
One of my favorite Brooklyn slice shops is Lucia’s of Avenue X. It is a long way down there, so I was happy to learn that recently Lucia’s opened a post near Tribeca. It even has a neighboring dessert shop. The design of the new location is perfect – efficient, sharp, and evoking Avenue X memories. The pizza makers are skilled and clearly proud of the product they are producing. I did not see Sal there, as he spends most of his time at the Sheepshead Bay original. Lucia’s is famous for their clam pies and vodka pies, which Sal says originate from his parent’s Papa Leone’s, once an institution in Brooklyn. I have heard rumors, though, that the clam pie recipe, is actually from the late, great Andrew Bellucci, who popularized and perfected the clam pie, a longtime favorite in New Haven, in New York during his time at Lombardi’s. Lucia’s plain slice is excellent, and the finishing touch of grated Pecorino is just the right touch.
I was curious to see how the preparations for The Feast of San Gennaro were coming along on Mulberry Street. The festival is bright and crowded, but I do not think it is worth planning a visit unless you are already there. I was fascinated watching the electricians run cheap wires through the street, using extension cords and many manners of electrical work that is certainly not up to code. I do not need another family after me, so I have yet to report it to the fire marshall.
Rubirosa looks beautiful as always. My goal was to get a slice there. Before the Pandemic, Rubirosa sold slices at their drink counter at lunchtime. But since 2021, each time I have tried to get a slice, like I would at Joe & Pat’s, I have been told they no longer do slices. Today was no different. And because I did not have room for another 20” pie in my stomach, I continued around the corner to Prince Street Pizza.
A camera crew was filming staff removing celebrity photos from the wall at Prince Street (believe it or not a photograph of me is on this wall) and replacing them with photos of first responders who died in 9/11. Paulie Gee’s did the same thing, as did a few other pizzerias. I once loved the Spicy Spring, a square Sicilian piece with cupped pepperonis. But as I have grown older and wiser, I have found myself wanting pepperoni on pizza exactly never. It has been years since I last had pepperoni ruin one of my pizzas.
After meandering about the Lower East Side, where every storefront and crack tells a story of America, the time for Mother’s arrival approached. My walk back passed the Farmers Market at Madison Square Park near the Flatiron building. I purchased some bichrome okra and Concord grapes to snack on for the remainder of the walk. It is a rare treat to get fresh Concord grapes. Most of you will recognize the flavor from grape juice and grape jelly. If you ever have the opportunity to try a fresh Concord, grasp it. The skin is ever so delicate and the flesh so smooth. The season is short – late August and September – and getting fresh ones outside New England and the Mid Atlantic is difficult. At $8 for a small container, they are much more than the typical grape in our grocery stores. But the rare treat is worth it.
Mother was in one of her fetching summer dresses, elegant as ever as she exited Moynihan Hall. I distracted her as we walked up the psychedelically painted interior steps at Roberta’s. We chose to eat outdoors on the Roberta’s rooftop.
One of the pizzaiolos at Roberta’s, and forgive me for not remembering his name, trained under Anthony Mangieri at Una. Although I do not like his large lobular earrings which deface one of the most exquisite parts of the human body, he is known as a master pie maker. I do not think he made ours today, as our Rosso, with just San Marzano, garlic, and oregano, was a bit overcharred. 5.89
Next door was Anita Gelato, which is an Israeli company that specializes in style and beautiful Instagram photo-worthy gelato. I was quite hungry still, so ordered the 3-4 scoop cup, which looked tiny, yet was $11. The gelato girl filled it well beyond my wildest hopes. It was a mountain of gelato. The strawberry was best, followed by raspberry, and then chocolate. 7.52.
This post was edited on 9/13/24 at 5:03 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 4:58 pm to TulaneLSU
Having satisfied my sweet tooth, Mother informed me that we were meeting our cousins at The Polo Bar. Despite its name, it is a respectable restaurant. I have less than perfect memories there, as the last time I ate there, the manager informed me I was not permitted to take photos in the restaurant. That experience, like the one I had in Central Market in Houston, left a sour taste. Though the Dover sole is beautiful, I will never willingly choose to eat at The Polo Bar. 7.20.
How wonderful it was to see all our cousins. As the five of us walked back to their home on the Upper East Side, the weather in the park was ideal. Sunny, dry, 70, a suggestion of wind. We were approaching the golden hour when I blurted out, “Loeb Boathouse. Rowboats. Now!”
We all galloped up The Mall, past an old guitarist playing “What A Wonderful World” in the Bethesda Terrace, and to the rowboat rental booth. It was 6:15 and sunset was around 7:20. The timing could not have been any better. For only $20 or so dollars – they take credit cards now – the five us hoped in a boat and set sail.
I was, naturally, in charge of the oars. It took me about five minutes to regain my dexterity, as I had not rowed there in five years. And soon, we were off to explore The Lake, passing under Bow Bridge and finding perfect vantages of the newly penciled skyline.
As dusk approached, lightning bugs dotted the sky. A rowing employee came out with bullhorn to call us all back to the house. What a lovely row it was. As we awaited docking, I looked at the green lights at the Boat House and thought of the great green light shining from East Egg. For a moment, I was sad, considering that no matter how much time I spend in New York or how well I get to know her, I will forever be viewing it from the vantage of West Egg, as an outsider looking in.
As we left our vessel, the great debate about what to do next commenced. The youngest cousin suggested we grab drinks, non-alcoholic of course, at The Yale Club. Mother protested, “We just came from Midtown and I have all my luggage (which was only one large bag for which I was enlisted to carry). Shall we go to The Palm Court.” If we are ever within a mile of The Plaza, she will always make that suggestion.
The eldest of our cousins suggested we get lemonades at the Loeb Boat House. And that is what we did. As we ended the conversation, Mother mentioned that she was not satisfied with the pizza at Roberta’s and asked where the closest world class Neapolitan pizza was.I mentioned Don Antonio, run by the daughter of the famous Roberto Caporuscio of Keste’.
We headed south and came to Don Antonio, where we were devastated to find a note of closure for two weeks.
Mother was still hungry and we came across a restaurant called Beyond Sushi, which Mother had read about in a periodical. The place was practically empty, and no reservation or wait needed. I chose the rainbow roll, which looked real, while Mother chose the meatballs. Both were good, and quite honestly, the vegan, non-fish rainbow roll might have been the best tasting sushi on the trip for me. 8.19.
Although her meatballs had a sweet sauce on them, we both needed dessert, so we walked to the Rockefeller Center where a very unsightly Magnolia Bakery has opened. As a child, I remember going to the original in Greenwich Village, which I adored. This night, though, we got the banana pudding to go. 8.05. And back it was to our cousins’ home, another mile walk.
DAY TWO
Day two dawned bright and early. We arrived at St. Patrick’s for the 7 AM Mass. While neither of us is Roman Catholic, we both appreciate the liturgy and it is always good to fellowship with our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters. Besides, arguably the most beautiful statue in America, the Pieta at St. Patrick’s, is found near one of its apsidal chapels.
For years Mother has pleaded with me to do a cycling circuit of the island of Manhattan. The weather was perfect, so we rented bikes for five hours, and headed through Central Park, where we stopped to hold morning prayers and readings. We then caught cut across the Upper West Side to the Hudson River bike path. It is a busy, yet very well maintained path, once you make it there. Along the Hudson, old commercial piers have been turned into museums, parks, and tourist attractions. It is a marvel at what was once a dinghy area has transformed into a spectacle.
Rounding the southern tip of Manhattan happens quickly and before you even realize you have passed Battery Park, you land in The Seaport. We were both hungry and we caught a glimpse of DiFara from the path. I have been to this DiFara twice before and both times, it was a shell of the original in deep Brooklyn. But perhaps a third time would be the charm.
The counterman noted in our accents we were not from NY, and asked where we were from. When he learned it was New Orleans, he said, “There’s a great poorboy shop by my house on Long Island.”
I was not in the mood for pedantry, so did not inquire further about the bakery that shop used and quickly nodded while I ordered my plain slice. The slice was a pleasant surprise. It was not as good as a slice made by Dom, but it was in keeping with his tradition.
How wonderful it was to see all our cousins. As the five of us walked back to their home on the Upper East Side, the weather in the park was ideal. Sunny, dry, 70, a suggestion of wind. We were approaching the golden hour when I blurted out, “Loeb Boathouse. Rowboats. Now!”
We all galloped up The Mall, past an old guitarist playing “What A Wonderful World” in the Bethesda Terrace, and to the rowboat rental booth. It was 6:15 and sunset was around 7:20. The timing could not have been any better. For only $20 or so dollars – they take credit cards now – the five us hoped in a boat and set sail.
I was, naturally, in charge of the oars. It took me about five minutes to regain my dexterity, as I had not rowed there in five years. And soon, we were off to explore The Lake, passing under Bow Bridge and finding perfect vantages of the newly penciled skyline.
As dusk approached, lightning bugs dotted the sky. A rowing employee came out with bullhorn to call us all back to the house. What a lovely row it was. As we awaited docking, I looked at the green lights at the Boat House and thought of the great green light shining from East Egg. For a moment, I was sad, considering that no matter how much time I spend in New York or how well I get to know her, I will forever be viewing it from the vantage of West Egg, as an outsider looking in.
As we left our vessel, the great debate about what to do next commenced. The youngest cousin suggested we grab drinks, non-alcoholic of course, at The Yale Club. Mother protested, “We just came from Midtown and I have all my luggage (which was only one large bag for which I was enlisted to carry). Shall we go to The Palm Court.” If we are ever within a mile of The Plaza, she will always make that suggestion.
The eldest of our cousins suggested we get lemonades at the Loeb Boat House. And that is what we did. As we ended the conversation, Mother mentioned that she was not satisfied with the pizza at Roberta’s and asked where the closest world class Neapolitan pizza was.I mentioned Don Antonio, run by the daughter of the famous Roberto Caporuscio of Keste’.
We headed south and came to Don Antonio, where we were devastated to find a note of closure for two weeks.
Mother was still hungry and we came across a restaurant called Beyond Sushi, which Mother had read about in a periodical. The place was practically empty, and no reservation or wait needed. I chose the rainbow roll, which looked real, while Mother chose the meatballs. Both were good, and quite honestly, the vegan, non-fish rainbow roll might have been the best tasting sushi on the trip for me. 8.19.
Although her meatballs had a sweet sauce on them, we both needed dessert, so we walked to the Rockefeller Center where a very unsightly Magnolia Bakery has opened. As a child, I remember going to the original in Greenwich Village, which I adored. This night, though, we got the banana pudding to go. 8.05. And back it was to our cousins’ home, another mile walk.
DAY TWO
Day two dawned bright and early. We arrived at St. Patrick’s for the 7 AM Mass. While neither of us is Roman Catholic, we both appreciate the liturgy and it is always good to fellowship with our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters. Besides, arguably the most beautiful statue in America, the Pieta at St. Patrick’s, is found near one of its apsidal chapels.
For years Mother has pleaded with me to do a cycling circuit of the island of Manhattan. The weather was perfect, so we rented bikes for five hours, and headed through Central Park, where we stopped to hold morning prayers and readings. We then caught cut across the Upper West Side to the Hudson River bike path. It is a busy, yet very well maintained path, once you make it there. Along the Hudson, old commercial piers have been turned into museums, parks, and tourist attractions. It is a marvel at what was once a dinghy area has transformed into a spectacle.
Rounding the southern tip of Manhattan happens quickly and before you even realize you have passed Battery Park, you land in The Seaport. We were both hungry and we caught a glimpse of DiFara from the path. I have been to this DiFara twice before and both times, it was a shell of the original in deep Brooklyn. But perhaps a third time would be the charm.
The counterman noted in our accents we were not from NY, and asked where we were from. When he learned it was New Orleans, he said, “There’s a great poorboy shop by my house on Long Island.”
I was not in the mood for pedantry, so did not inquire further about the bakery that shop used and quickly nodded while I ordered my plain slice. The slice was a pleasant surprise. It was not as good as a slice made by Dom, but it was in keeping with his tradition.
This post was edited on 9/13/24 at 5:04 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 4:58 pm to TulaneLSU
Once we arrived at Pier 36, the bike path stopped. Construction was everywhere, so we decided to cut through the Baruch Projects. Unlike in New Orleans, outsiders are warmly welcomed in New York’s housing projects. We have inadvertently walked or ridden through more than ten housing projects in New York over the years, and each time, found the residents warm and hospitable.
We were soon outside the safe streets of Baruch and now on the bustling streets of Manhattan, where bikers and automobile drivers have found a way to exist. We were pleasantly surprised at how good the NY drivers were, always giving pedestrians the right-a-way and patient with bicyclists.
Our DiFara slices had not satisfied our appetites, so we agreed to bike toward Ribalta. I have only been to Ribalta once before and enjoyed it. Mother had never been, so was excited to try it. It is a solid Neapolitan pizza, exactly like what you find on the streets of Naples, although in Naples, it would run closer to $5 or $6, not $20.
Because we had chatted with our waiter so long, the deadline for our bike rental soon approached. We realized we had three miles to bike in under 30 minutes, so we hopped on our bikes and headed to 6th Avenue.
6th Avenue is maybe the greatest street in America to bike. Besides the designated bike lane, you pass such landmarks as The Empire State Building, Bryant Park, Radio City Music Hall, and Fox News. But more than landmarks, you are in the very heart of Manhattan. The beat of the city runs through that street. You get hints of it walking along it. But jump on a bike and ride alongside a Ferrari or city bus and you will feel the city. It is a rush that even a ferry ride to Algiers cannot touch.
Our deadline was soon approaching, so around 46th, I turned to Mother, quoting Premium Rush, “No brakes. Can't stop. Don't want to, either.” We made it back just in time, having reached Central Park from Ribalta in some 15 minutes. Hearts pounding, back on our feet, we both mentioned how focused we felt. Riding through the city like we did required great attention, and our minds were not ready for the return to normalcy that walking gave us.
We soon found ourselves in front of Trump Tower where a man dressed as Trump waved us over. I asked him if there was pizza in the building and he told me, surprisingly, yes. Normally, getting into Trump Tower is easy, but this afternoon, Secret Service had set up a perimeter and metal detectors. We found out that Trump was in town to speak at an economic forum as well as visit Baron, who had started at NYU the day before, and was still living at Trump Tower.
We headed down the escalators and found Trump Pizza was open. The offerings were few and the margherita looked lacking, so I chose the eggplant parm pizza. It was wholly disappointing, flavorless. At $7.50 it was not the most expensive slice I have ever purchased, but it was easily the worst $7+ slice in my travels. 2.85. I washed it down with an average brownie from Trump Sweets. 5.00
As we left the building, security ushered in Melania, who was taller than I expected. She nodded to Mother, and we were soon back on Fifth Avenue. We did not have much of a plan, so we just walked where God guided us. We drank waters on the 7th Floor of the library, where there is a lovely balcony. Macy’s was worth a look, and got sushi at Sushi 35 West, which sits above a disgusting marijuana store, and vegan cookies at Seven Grams Cafe. The sushi was decent at 7.49. The vegan chocolate chip cookie rivaled Mother’s cookies. 8.87.
We had dinner reservations at Sparks Steakhouse later that evening, so we headed home to shower and change. Along the way, I got an absolutely delicious bowl of Indian food from a vendor that was bursting with so many wonderful flavors. 8.93. One notable trend in NY dining is the number of fast service places that sell bowls of what are supposed to be healthy offerings.
Anyway, Sparks is another eating establishment where inside photographs are strongly discouraged. There are many “important” people who eat here whose photos they do not want online, so I enjoyed my filet (7.94) and conversations without having the gift of photos. As most of you know, Sparks is well known as the site of the most famous Mafia assassination in America. It was there that John Gotti’s goons killed his boss, Paul Castellano, and underboss, allowing Gotti to take over the Gambino Family.
We were actually at our cousins just blocks away when it happened. I was too young to remember it, but Mother still tells the story of how she was on her way back from Christmas shopping at Saks. It was dark, around 5:45 when hundreds of police cars rushed by her. Only when the nightly news program came on did she find out why.
We were soon outside the safe streets of Baruch and now on the bustling streets of Manhattan, where bikers and automobile drivers have found a way to exist. We were pleasantly surprised at how good the NY drivers were, always giving pedestrians the right-a-way and patient with bicyclists.
Our DiFara slices had not satisfied our appetites, so we agreed to bike toward Ribalta. I have only been to Ribalta once before and enjoyed it. Mother had never been, so was excited to try it. It is a solid Neapolitan pizza, exactly like what you find on the streets of Naples, although in Naples, it would run closer to $5 or $6, not $20.
Because we had chatted with our waiter so long, the deadline for our bike rental soon approached. We realized we had three miles to bike in under 30 minutes, so we hopped on our bikes and headed to 6th Avenue.
6th Avenue is maybe the greatest street in America to bike. Besides the designated bike lane, you pass such landmarks as The Empire State Building, Bryant Park, Radio City Music Hall, and Fox News. But more than landmarks, you are in the very heart of Manhattan. The beat of the city runs through that street. You get hints of it walking along it. But jump on a bike and ride alongside a Ferrari or city bus and you will feel the city. It is a rush that even a ferry ride to Algiers cannot touch.
Our deadline was soon approaching, so around 46th, I turned to Mother, quoting Premium Rush, “No brakes. Can't stop. Don't want to, either.” We made it back just in time, having reached Central Park from Ribalta in some 15 minutes. Hearts pounding, back on our feet, we both mentioned how focused we felt. Riding through the city like we did required great attention, and our minds were not ready for the return to normalcy that walking gave us.
We soon found ourselves in front of Trump Tower where a man dressed as Trump waved us over. I asked him if there was pizza in the building and he told me, surprisingly, yes. Normally, getting into Trump Tower is easy, but this afternoon, Secret Service had set up a perimeter and metal detectors. We found out that Trump was in town to speak at an economic forum as well as visit Baron, who had started at NYU the day before, and was still living at Trump Tower.
We headed down the escalators and found Trump Pizza was open. The offerings were few and the margherita looked lacking, so I chose the eggplant parm pizza. It was wholly disappointing, flavorless. At $7.50 it was not the most expensive slice I have ever purchased, but it was easily the worst $7+ slice in my travels. 2.85. I washed it down with an average brownie from Trump Sweets. 5.00
As we left the building, security ushered in Melania, who was taller than I expected. She nodded to Mother, and we were soon back on Fifth Avenue. We did not have much of a plan, so we just walked where God guided us. We drank waters on the 7th Floor of the library, where there is a lovely balcony. Macy’s was worth a look, and got sushi at Sushi 35 West, which sits above a disgusting marijuana store, and vegan cookies at Seven Grams Cafe. The sushi was decent at 7.49. The vegan chocolate chip cookie rivaled Mother’s cookies. 8.87.
We had dinner reservations at Sparks Steakhouse later that evening, so we headed home to shower and change. Along the way, I got an absolutely delicious bowl of Indian food from a vendor that was bursting with so many wonderful flavors. 8.93. One notable trend in NY dining is the number of fast service places that sell bowls of what are supposed to be healthy offerings.
Anyway, Sparks is another eating establishment where inside photographs are strongly discouraged. There are many “important” people who eat here whose photos they do not want online, so I enjoyed my filet (7.94) and conversations without having the gift of photos. As most of you know, Sparks is well known as the site of the most famous Mafia assassination in America. It was there that John Gotti’s goons killed his boss, Paul Castellano, and underboss, allowing Gotti to take over the Gambino Family.
We were actually at our cousins just blocks away when it happened. I was too young to remember it, but Mother still tells the story of how she was on her way back from Christmas shopping at Saks. It was dark, around 5:45 when hundreds of police cars rushed by her. Only when the nightly news program came on did she find out why.
This post was edited on 9/14/24 at 9:10 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 4:58 pm to TulaneLSU
DAY THREE
Food bloggers began raving about Dominique Ansel’s cronuts a decade ago. I had never had one before, so I decided to be first in line that morning. I thought by arriving by 6:30, I would have a guarantee. But first, I had a delicious croissant (7.66) at Angelina Bakery near Grand Central and continued my southward walk.
I was the first in line and found a nice park around the building at which to sit. There was a very poor tennis player practicing, hitting balls over the 25 foot fence into the street, as he bounced them off a wall. He was probably the worst tennis player I have ever seen. Across the street, Hispanic construction workers were installing drywall, while taking frequent breaks to whistle at ladies walking down the street. After 30 minutes, I walked across and had a word with them, telling them that misogyny and lust was not the way of Jesus. I heard not another crass comment.
By opening at 8:00, I was still the only person waiting. It appears that the cronut, which was not named for someone from Carencro, is not as popular as it once was. Its $7 price tag was inflated. It was not bad, but does not even encroach on the best donuts in America, which are Tastee Kenner, District Donuts, Donut Hole, and Mr. Ronnie’s in Houma. The flavor of the month, and they only serve one flavor at a time, was butter pecan and mascarpone. 6.88. The best part of the donut was the bag in which it came and the people watching from my chess table.
In the early morning hours, before business hours have begun, the southern portion of Manhattan is such comforting place to be. The streets have a suggestive, hopeful aroma, similar to the moments of near silence before Pregame plays at Tiger Stadium. While those moments only come six or seven times each year in Baton Rouge, these moments occur daily in New York. I breathed it all in as I walked to Ferarra, where I was meeting Mother for a cannoli.
Before she arrived, I stopped across the street and purchased some pasta from Piemonte Ravioli and had the clerk mail it to friends back home. Mother looked stunning when she arrived, turning heads all along Grand and Mulberry Streets. She is a portrait of class and sophistication, the perfect combination of New Orleans and New York. Honestly, Ferrara’s has always sounded better than it tasted. Give me a cannoli from Brocato’s any day over Ferrara’s.
One of the most observant scenes in the entire series of The Sopranos is the one where Butchie is walking through old Little Italy on Mulberry Street, talking on the phone to his boss as snow comes down. The walk starts in familiar turf, where signs advertising gelato and cappuccino line buildings.
In a matter of less than a minute, after being told, “We cannot go back,” Butchie looks up only to find himself surrounded by Chinese lanterns and the Chinese language. You too can recreate this walk simply by crossing Canal Street, where you enter Chinatown and the open air markets. Getting a piece of fruit for 50 cents at a stand makes for an economical breakfast. I just remembered, while walking to meet Mother on the first day of our trip, I ran into Steven Van Zandt, who played Silvio Dante. He was decent in real life.
We had hoped to eat at the oldest Chinese restaurant in New York at Nom Wah, but it was not opened. They were busy, however, painting the street. Across the way, House of Joy was bustling, and I think one of the groups was a funeral party. It was 9:00 and the dim sum carts were needing refills, such was the early morning rush. The shrimp dumplings and two green teas came to $5.
From there we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and spent an hour in prayer along the East River in DUMBO. We then decided to walk north in Brooklyn past the old Navy Yard. We were soon in Jewish Williamsburg, where Hasidic Jews rushed to get their Sabbath preparations complete.
If you want to find the most chaotic place in New York, I suggest going to this neighborhood around noon on a Friday. It was absolute gridlock. We were nearly run over by a bearded man in a Lexus SUV, even though we were in the crosswalk guided by the white walking man. He had the audacity to honk at us, roll down the window, and yell at us in a language I do not know. I returned to him eyes that I pray were worthy of Jesus.
We had no real plan; instead we were enjoying the delights of this ethnic enclave. We eventually came to a point where the street forked. Mother heard a delightful opera or cantor and approached the building. The swinging front door had a secretive porthole window and next to it was a large poster board in Hebrew, which I translated for Mother, who never bothered to learn.
We cautiously opened the door and entered a beautiful old style room with ancient plank floors and jars of beautifully arranged pickled foods. Our Jewish host warmly welcomed us and allowed us to sample his offerings, all of which were scrumptious. We settled on a small contained of the most glorious sweet pickles I have ever tasted. 7.59! For $5.50, it was a bargain.
Savoury
Savoury pickled jars
Bopping in and out the blocks, we came across one of my favorite corner slice shops, Williamsburg Pizza. It feels like it has been there forever, but only opened in 2012. Some call Joe’s the classic slice, but Williamsburg Pizza is that for me. 8.04. Mother chose the vegan square, which was excellent at 7.99.
Just down the way, we came to Zeff’s Pizzeria, which is one of Mother’s favorites. She adores Zeff. Zeff is originally from a town just north of Mexico City. He arrived in 1989 and his first job was on staff at the famous Pizza Wagon of Bay Ridge. There he learned the art of NY pizza making. Although he has changed up the sauce recipe, it is hard for me to distinguish between the two pizzas.
Food bloggers began raving about Dominique Ansel’s cronuts a decade ago. I had never had one before, so I decided to be first in line that morning. I thought by arriving by 6:30, I would have a guarantee. But first, I had a delicious croissant (7.66) at Angelina Bakery near Grand Central and continued my southward walk.
I was the first in line and found a nice park around the building at which to sit. There was a very poor tennis player practicing, hitting balls over the 25 foot fence into the street, as he bounced them off a wall. He was probably the worst tennis player I have ever seen. Across the street, Hispanic construction workers were installing drywall, while taking frequent breaks to whistle at ladies walking down the street. After 30 minutes, I walked across and had a word with them, telling them that misogyny and lust was not the way of Jesus. I heard not another crass comment.
By opening at 8:00, I was still the only person waiting. It appears that the cronut, which was not named for someone from Carencro, is not as popular as it once was. Its $7 price tag was inflated. It was not bad, but does not even encroach on the best donuts in America, which are Tastee Kenner, District Donuts, Donut Hole, and Mr. Ronnie’s in Houma. The flavor of the month, and they only serve one flavor at a time, was butter pecan and mascarpone. 6.88. The best part of the donut was the bag in which it came and the people watching from my chess table.
In the early morning hours, before business hours have begun, the southern portion of Manhattan is such comforting place to be. The streets have a suggestive, hopeful aroma, similar to the moments of near silence before Pregame plays at Tiger Stadium. While those moments only come six or seven times each year in Baton Rouge, these moments occur daily in New York. I breathed it all in as I walked to Ferarra, where I was meeting Mother for a cannoli.
Before she arrived, I stopped across the street and purchased some pasta from Piemonte Ravioli and had the clerk mail it to friends back home. Mother looked stunning when she arrived, turning heads all along Grand and Mulberry Streets. She is a portrait of class and sophistication, the perfect combination of New Orleans and New York. Honestly, Ferrara’s has always sounded better than it tasted. Give me a cannoli from Brocato’s any day over Ferrara’s.
One of the most observant scenes in the entire series of The Sopranos is the one where Butchie is walking through old Little Italy on Mulberry Street, talking on the phone to his boss as snow comes down. The walk starts in familiar turf, where signs advertising gelato and cappuccino line buildings.
In a matter of less than a minute, after being told, “We cannot go back,” Butchie looks up only to find himself surrounded by Chinese lanterns and the Chinese language. You too can recreate this walk simply by crossing Canal Street, where you enter Chinatown and the open air markets. Getting a piece of fruit for 50 cents at a stand makes for an economical breakfast. I just remembered, while walking to meet Mother on the first day of our trip, I ran into Steven Van Zandt, who played Silvio Dante. He was decent in real life.
We had hoped to eat at the oldest Chinese restaurant in New York at Nom Wah, but it was not opened. They were busy, however, painting the street. Across the way, House of Joy was bustling, and I think one of the groups was a funeral party. It was 9:00 and the dim sum carts were needing refills, such was the early morning rush. The shrimp dumplings and two green teas came to $5.
From there we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and spent an hour in prayer along the East River in DUMBO. We then decided to walk north in Brooklyn past the old Navy Yard. We were soon in Jewish Williamsburg, where Hasidic Jews rushed to get their Sabbath preparations complete.
If you want to find the most chaotic place in New York, I suggest going to this neighborhood around noon on a Friday. It was absolute gridlock. We were nearly run over by a bearded man in a Lexus SUV, even though we were in the crosswalk guided by the white walking man. He had the audacity to honk at us, roll down the window, and yell at us in a language I do not know. I returned to him eyes that I pray were worthy of Jesus.
We had no real plan; instead we were enjoying the delights of this ethnic enclave. We eventually came to a point where the street forked. Mother heard a delightful opera or cantor and approached the building. The swinging front door had a secretive porthole window and next to it was a large poster board in Hebrew, which I translated for Mother, who never bothered to learn.
We cautiously opened the door and entered a beautiful old style room with ancient plank floors and jars of beautifully arranged pickled foods. Our Jewish host warmly welcomed us and allowed us to sample his offerings, all of which were scrumptious. We settled on a small contained of the most glorious sweet pickles I have ever tasted. 7.59! For $5.50, it was a bargain.
Savoury
Savoury pickled jars
Bopping in and out the blocks, we came across one of my favorite corner slice shops, Williamsburg Pizza. It feels like it has been there forever, but only opened in 2012. Some call Joe’s the classic slice, but Williamsburg Pizza is that for me. 8.04. Mother chose the vegan square, which was excellent at 7.99.
Just down the way, we came to Zeff’s Pizzeria, which is one of Mother’s favorites. She adores Zeff. Zeff is originally from a town just north of Mexico City. He arrived in 1989 and his first job was on staff at the famous Pizza Wagon of Bay Ridge. There he learned the art of NY pizza making. Although he has changed up the sauce recipe, it is hard for me to distinguish between the two pizzas.
This post was edited on 9/13/24 at 5:10 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 4:59 pm to TulaneLSU
His son, Antonio, now helps him on most days. Antonio likes the specialty pies, whereas Zeff is loyal to a plain slice. Zeff’s offers a great two slice combo deal with drink for just $6. It is a solid neighborhood slice. As more and more pizzerias become celebrity pizzerias and open satellite locations, fewer and fewer classy places have the owner helming the ovens. Zeff’s is one of them. It usually makes for a better environment and product, and that is definitely the case at Zeff’s, where they treat all customers like family. 7.98.
Mother wanted L’industrie next, while I wanted nearby Fini, but guess who won? I like L’industrie, but I think it is it hitting the level of hype at this point. An excellent slice it is. But more and more, I hear people refer to it as the best pizza in America, which it is not. I find the dough too dry.
We had just missed Massimo, a shame, but he was preparing for the next morning’s L’industrie street party. He had his old faithful grill ready to go. Meanwhile, we enjoyed our slices with the hoards. It seems not to matter what time of day you go to L’industrie now. Our first time here before the Pandemic, not a single person came in during our entire stay, during which we spoke with Massimo for a good half hour.
Now, from open to close, there is a line. I see he was able to afford finally that multiple decked Moretti Forni oven. I am still working on convincing Mother we need one for our kitchen. The plain slice suffers from being dry. I spiced it up with some pickles from Savoury. The pickles did to it what the burrata does. 8.05.
We are both suckers for the underdog, always hoping that the lost will be found and the bad will become good. So we decided to walk to Best Pizza next. Owned by one of the most charismatic men in pizza, Frank Pinello, we have given Best Pizza chance after chance to impress us. Every time we go there, we hope to run into Frank, but he is always off somewhere, either his other pizzerias or filming an episode for whatever show he is currently hosting. Without fail, though, Best Pizza disappoints. I think this was our fifth visit. Like L’industrie, it is a dry pizza that uses minimal sauce. But here the dough seems consistently to be overcooked. Best has the right look, the right feel, the right smells, but it never gets the pizza dough right. Such a shame. The good news is that adding sweet pickles to it ups it a notch. 6.22
]
We had a reservation at the Morgan Library back on Manhattan, so we decided to start our walk to the Greenpoint ferry terminal. Along the way, we came across this wonderful reminder.
And then, by Providence, we walked past Paulie Gee’s Slice Shop. I was quite fond of the one in New Orleans before it closed (what a terrible location in the Warehouse District). This is the original, and I have yet to catch Paulie there. One day, but he does seem always to be jetsetting. The slices here are solid, but the real reason to come here are the vegan slices.
The vegan Freddy Prinze is the best vegan pizza I have ever had and better than the regular version of it. Regular slice 7.76. Vegan Freddy Prinze 9.08
img]https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53991485024_234b1817d1_c.jpg[/img]
Just a couple of blocks around the corner is Paulie Gee’s first and flagship location, which does not serve by the slice. We happened on one of the few days they are open for lunch. Not a person was inside, and after five minutes of wandering through the restaurant a waiter finally showed up. It is a beautiful interior with grand wood tables, walls, and floors. Its designer really sets the mood, heralding back to Greenpoints shipbuilding roots. Close your eyes in here for a moment and you could imagine you are in the Captain’s Quarters in a 19th century Greenpoint clipper. Pizzas here are Neapolitan. We split a In Ricotta Da Vegan, whose name was as annoying as the citrusy flavor. The dough was delightful, but the toppings too acidic. 6.88
Nothing on which a pickle cannot improve.
We took the water taxi across the way, where we got a wonderful view of the UN before doing a couple of hours in the Morgan Library, which hosts three Gutenberg Bibles, more than any other institution. There is also a shard of wood in a display there that, according to legend, comes from the Cross upon which our Lord Jesus Christ was crucified. Perhaps if you ask I may do a Top 10 of the best things found in The Morgan Library.
After that delightful tour, we walked back to our cousins’ home. We were passing Grand Central when I asked Mother if we could stop at The Oyster Bar. The oysters were quite good. However, the clams were too chewy and lacked flavor. 8 for the former, 4 for the latter.
Mother wanted L’industrie next, while I wanted nearby Fini, but guess who won? I like L’industrie, but I think it is it hitting the level of hype at this point. An excellent slice it is. But more and more, I hear people refer to it as the best pizza in America, which it is not. I find the dough too dry.
We had just missed Massimo, a shame, but he was preparing for the next morning’s L’industrie street party. He had his old faithful grill ready to go. Meanwhile, we enjoyed our slices with the hoards. It seems not to matter what time of day you go to L’industrie now. Our first time here before the Pandemic, not a single person came in during our entire stay, during which we spoke with Massimo for a good half hour.
Now, from open to close, there is a line. I see he was able to afford finally that multiple decked Moretti Forni oven. I am still working on convincing Mother we need one for our kitchen. The plain slice suffers from being dry. I spiced it up with some pickles from Savoury. The pickles did to it what the burrata does. 8.05.
We are both suckers for the underdog, always hoping that the lost will be found and the bad will become good. So we decided to walk to Best Pizza next. Owned by one of the most charismatic men in pizza, Frank Pinello, we have given Best Pizza chance after chance to impress us. Every time we go there, we hope to run into Frank, but he is always off somewhere, either his other pizzerias or filming an episode for whatever show he is currently hosting. Without fail, though, Best Pizza disappoints. I think this was our fifth visit. Like L’industrie, it is a dry pizza that uses minimal sauce. But here the dough seems consistently to be overcooked. Best has the right look, the right feel, the right smells, but it never gets the pizza dough right. Such a shame. The good news is that adding sweet pickles to it ups it a notch. 6.22
]
We had a reservation at the Morgan Library back on Manhattan, so we decided to start our walk to the Greenpoint ferry terminal. Along the way, we came across this wonderful reminder.
And then, by Providence, we walked past Paulie Gee’s Slice Shop. I was quite fond of the one in New Orleans before it closed (what a terrible location in the Warehouse District). This is the original, and I have yet to catch Paulie there. One day, but he does seem always to be jetsetting. The slices here are solid, but the real reason to come here are the vegan slices.
The vegan Freddy Prinze is the best vegan pizza I have ever had and better than the regular version of it. Regular slice 7.76. Vegan Freddy Prinze 9.08
img]https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53991485024_234b1817d1_c.jpg[/img]
Just a couple of blocks around the corner is Paulie Gee’s first and flagship location, which does not serve by the slice. We happened on one of the few days they are open for lunch. Not a person was inside, and after five minutes of wandering through the restaurant a waiter finally showed up. It is a beautiful interior with grand wood tables, walls, and floors. Its designer really sets the mood, heralding back to Greenpoints shipbuilding roots. Close your eyes in here for a moment and you could imagine you are in the Captain’s Quarters in a 19th century Greenpoint clipper. Pizzas here are Neapolitan. We split a In Ricotta Da Vegan, whose name was as annoying as the citrusy flavor. The dough was delightful, but the toppings too acidic. 6.88
Nothing on which a pickle cannot improve.
We took the water taxi across the way, where we got a wonderful view of the UN before doing a couple of hours in the Morgan Library, which hosts three Gutenberg Bibles, more than any other institution. There is also a shard of wood in a display there that, according to legend, comes from the Cross upon which our Lord Jesus Christ was crucified. Perhaps if you ask I may do a Top 10 of the best things found in The Morgan Library.
After that delightful tour, we walked back to our cousins’ home. We were passing Grand Central when I asked Mother if we could stop at The Oyster Bar. The oysters were quite good. However, the clams were too chewy and lacked flavor. 8 for the former, 4 for the latter.
This post was edited on 9/13/24 at 5:12 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 4:59 pm to TulaneLSU
We had family reservations at Le Jardinier. Mother knows that if I am eating French in New York, it better be at Le Bernardin. Unfortunately, I threw a little temper tantrum, and refused to leave for our reservation. An hour into, I felt terrible and called Mother to apologize. However, she would not answer my calls. So I did what I do best and started a long walk.
At around 8:00 I was in East Village and hungry for sushi, so I checked to see if Tsumo Omakase, a new favorite among sushi critics, had a spot. Sure enough, it had one opening for 8:45. Tsumo is part of a new breed of economical omakase restaurants sweeping New York. For $58, they offer a fast paced 13 course meal, that on paper, should run about $150.
The dirty secret is the majority of the sushi lineup is regular quality sushi dressed up with fancy, though scant, toppings. Only four or five of the courses are worthy of being on an omakase menu. On this night, the unagi and the fatty tuna, both with caviar and with truffles, were the only memorable menu items.
An hour after the 13 course meal started in that stark setting, the meal came to an end. Although the above three pieces of sushi were good, I cannot in good conscience commend Tsumo.
DAY FOUR
After morning prayers, I apologized to Mother and our cousins for my unseemly behavior the night before. To smooth things over. I woke up before anyone and went to Utopia Bagel to get a dozen. Utopia has been in my Top 10 bagels of NY list for several years. And I am thrilled they have finally opened a location on Manhattan.
On this morning, I got my bagel, ordering it toasted and with butter, only for it to come out cold. It was fresh, so it was still good, but a bagel, despite what native New Yorkers might say, is at its best toasted. When a New Yorker tries to correct me and tell me that good bagels are made to be served untoasted, I tell them that they sound like a non-New Yorker complaining about how New York pizza makers put too much char on their pizzas.
On the way back, I found a jug of lemonade. But when I removed the cap, it had a most unpleasant smell, so I returned it. I suppose someone is making some sort of liquor – that was how rancid the smell was.
On this day, Mother wanted to visit Hudson Yards. We began with her cup of coffee at Laduree. I got a macaron that was delightful, though, its appearance was greater than its taste. 7.11.
We walked through the luxury mall’s Mercado Little Spain, which is, in most precise terms, an Eately for Spain. It felt in every way like Epcot Center – fun yet artificial and designed to take money from the masses. Unfortunately, despite the doors being open, the Spanish pizza bar was not open and the pizza makers refused to make me a pizza, so I could not try it. Next time.
Mercado Little Spain
Our journey next followed The Highline, a short yet scenic route over Chelsea and the old meat packing plants. We experienced several torrential downpours along the way, which was upsetting to Mother, but we made it nonetheless.
We love exploring Greenwich Village and did so on this morning. I have heard some complain about how GV has lost its character and was better in the 80s. I disagree. Although it has become a wealthier neighborhood, I do not think it has ever been better than it is today. We saw the apartment building from Friends and got into a little tussle with a woman whose dog leash nearly ended my walking career, much like that cracked French Quarter sidewalk did to my budding volleyball career.
By 11:15, an idea of eating at John’s of Bleecker Street percolated in the back of my mind. So I nudged Mother to Bleecker Street and acted surprised when I saw John’s. “Mother, what perfect timing! We simply must eat here!” She loves John’s, so it did not take much convincing. Soon we were first in line and the great staff were ushering us inside. If available, we always ask for Table 2 in the front room. It was our family’s table.
We enjoy being able to find where we wrote our names on the wall from years ago. Table 2 is the only table in the front room where you can actually draw with a marker. The other tables do not have a painted pillar, instead, only have wood walls. The wood walls are great for carving, but as anyone who pays attention can see, those carvings get carved over every few weeks. The chance of you finding a carving from a previous year is next to zilch.
Next time you are at John’s of Bleecker Street, please ask for Table 2. Find where I have signed and share with us a picture. I love being reminded of my favorite table there.
The pizza at John’s of Bleecker is always great. Perfectly charred every time, my favorite characteristic is the ample amounts of quality red sauce. Today was no exception. It is a top five pizzeria in the world. 9.23
I wanted some Mama’s Too, which I refer to as Mother’s Too, when speaking to Mother. She appreciates it, as she hates the terms Mom and Mama. But this was the line at noon, and it wrapped around that corner halfway down the next block. Had I seen Frank, I would have yelled to him to get me a slice, but he was no where to be seen, so we continued our walk.
As we approached the Financial District, we saw Jerrell’s, which has made headlines for its vegan burgers. This building cannot be more than ten feet wide. There were about five people ahead of us. We ordered a vegan impossible burger. I thought it tasted like a cheap, low quality burger. For $10, or really, for any price, I cannot recommend. 1.88.
At around 8:00 I was in East Village and hungry for sushi, so I checked to see if Tsumo Omakase, a new favorite among sushi critics, had a spot. Sure enough, it had one opening for 8:45. Tsumo is part of a new breed of economical omakase restaurants sweeping New York. For $58, they offer a fast paced 13 course meal, that on paper, should run about $150.
The dirty secret is the majority of the sushi lineup is regular quality sushi dressed up with fancy, though scant, toppings. Only four or five of the courses are worthy of being on an omakase menu. On this night, the unagi and the fatty tuna, both with caviar and with truffles, were the only memorable menu items.
An hour after the 13 course meal started in that stark setting, the meal came to an end. Although the above three pieces of sushi were good, I cannot in good conscience commend Tsumo.
DAY FOUR
After morning prayers, I apologized to Mother and our cousins for my unseemly behavior the night before. To smooth things over. I woke up before anyone and went to Utopia Bagel to get a dozen. Utopia has been in my Top 10 bagels of NY list for several years. And I am thrilled they have finally opened a location on Manhattan.
On this morning, I got my bagel, ordering it toasted and with butter, only for it to come out cold. It was fresh, so it was still good, but a bagel, despite what native New Yorkers might say, is at its best toasted. When a New Yorker tries to correct me and tell me that good bagels are made to be served untoasted, I tell them that they sound like a non-New Yorker complaining about how New York pizza makers put too much char on their pizzas.
On the way back, I found a jug of lemonade. But when I removed the cap, it had a most unpleasant smell, so I returned it. I suppose someone is making some sort of liquor – that was how rancid the smell was.
On this day, Mother wanted to visit Hudson Yards. We began with her cup of coffee at Laduree. I got a macaron that was delightful, though, its appearance was greater than its taste. 7.11.
We walked through the luxury mall’s Mercado Little Spain, which is, in most precise terms, an Eately for Spain. It felt in every way like Epcot Center – fun yet artificial and designed to take money from the masses. Unfortunately, despite the doors being open, the Spanish pizza bar was not open and the pizza makers refused to make me a pizza, so I could not try it. Next time.
Mercado Little Spain
Our journey next followed The Highline, a short yet scenic route over Chelsea and the old meat packing plants. We experienced several torrential downpours along the way, which was upsetting to Mother, but we made it nonetheless.
We love exploring Greenwich Village and did so on this morning. I have heard some complain about how GV has lost its character and was better in the 80s. I disagree. Although it has become a wealthier neighborhood, I do not think it has ever been better than it is today. We saw the apartment building from Friends and got into a little tussle with a woman whose dog leash nearly ended my walking career, much like that cracked French Quarter sidewalk did to my budding volleyball career.
By 11:15, an idea of eating at John’s of Bleecker Street percolated in the back of my mind. So I nudged Mother to Bleecker Street and acted surprised when I saw John’s. “Mother, what perfect timing! We simply must eat here!” She loves John’s, so it did not take much convincing. Soon we were first in line and the great staff were ushering us inside. If available, we always ask for Table 2 in the front room. It was our family’s table.
We enjoy being able to find where we wrote our names on the wall from years ago. Table 2 is the only table in the front room where you can actually draw with a marker. The other tables do not have a painted pillar, instead, only have wood walls. The wood walls are great for carving, but as anyone who pays attention can see, those carvings get carved over every few weeks. The chance of you finding a carving from a previous year is next to zilch.
Next time you are at John’s of Bleecker Street, please ask for Table 2. Find where I have signed and share with us a picture. I love being reminded of my favorite table there.
The pizza at John’s of Bleecker is always great. Perfectly charred every time, my favorite characteristic is the ample amounts of quality red sauce. Today was no exception. It is a top five pizzeria in the world. 9.23
I wanted some Mama’s Too, which I refer to as Mother’s Too, when speaking to Mother. She appreciates it, as she hates the terms Mom and Mama. But this was the line at noon, and it wrapped around that corner halfway down the next block. Had I seen Frank, I would have yelled to him to get me a slice, but he was no where to be seen, so we continued our walk.
As we approached the Financial District, we saw Jerrell’s, which has made headlines for its vegan burgers. This building cannot be more than ten feet wide. There were about five people ahead of us. We ordered a vegan impossible burger. I thought it tasted like a cheap, low quality burger. For $10, or really, for any price, I cannot recommend. 1.88.
This post was edited on 9/14/24 at 9:22 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 4:59 pm to TulaneLSU
It was the weekend before the anniversary of 9/11, so we paid our respects at the Memorial. We then spent an hour at St. Nicholas Church, next to the fountains. It is a stunning church, both at night and in the light. The interior is spirit catching.
A long walk through the city deserved a nice 30 minute prayer within. When I got up I realized I had received several texts from our cousins who were shopping at Bloomingdale’s.
“Get up here right now!” The text read. “Lucali’s has a pop-up food truck here and they are giving away Lucali’s pasta.”
I thought to myself, “Lucali’s serves pasta? I am pretty sure he only serves pizza and calzone.” In any event, we started the trek northward back to the Upper East Side. We finally arrived, before the deluge. We ducked in and began looking for our cousins. After a few minutes of no success, we headed to the second floor where Lucali’s had a display, selling t-shirts that were designed by someone of whom I have never heard. The saleswoman showed us the Lucali shirts. She also let us know that if we spent $150, we would be able to receive a free pasta meal from Lucali’s.
And so, I decided to buy three of the t-shirts on display, one for each of the cousins. I figured a t-shirt at Bloomingdale’s was $50. When she rang me up, however, she said $396. I almost wanted to yell, “$396 for three printed white t-shirts!?” But the decorum Mother instilled in me avoided a public display and I smiled and handed her Mother’s credit card. She said all we had to do was go to the food truck and show the receipt to get the pasta.
And so we went downstairs to Lexington, where the rain lever was now pointed to the off position, and found the Lucali’s truck. It was closed up due to the rain. So I knocked on the facade and a young lady smiled at me and asked what I wanted. “I am here to try the pasta. Here’s my receipt.”
She obliged and handed over a beautiful pasta dish that was very yummy. 8.22.
We had reservations at Una Pizza Neapoletana, about a three mile walk south, so we ate part of our pasta on the walk. Thankfully, it did not rain any more. We arrived a little before our reservation. A line for walk-ups was already stretching up Orchard Street. I felt bad for most of these people, as I knew they were unlikely to get to experience the world’s best pizza on this night.
This was Mother and my sixth visit to Una. Anthony now recognizes us, and as we sat down, he looked up, smiled and waved. “Hey TulaneLSU and Mother!” He is such a lovely person, good natured and welcoming, one of the most compelling parts about his restaurant is how I feel like I am in his kitchen when I eat. Whereas most pizza men who achieve fame and awards use them as tools to expand their restaurant empire, Anthony refuses to let a single pizza from Una find a diner’s plate if it has not first come from his own hands. His journey to perfection is not complete, but he seems most interested in staying the journey rather than being distracted by capitalism.
If you ever get to visit Una’s dough room, you will notice he keeps two things on his wall above him: letters and drawings from his only daughter and a Crucifix. He is a man who believes in Faith, Hope, and Love found only through Christ. And his bathroom is nothing short of class. I am trying to convince Mother to allow me to redecorate my bathroom with Una’s as the template.
Most newcomers flock to the cheesy pizzas, but if you ask Anthony what he recommends, he will always offer the suggestion of the Marinara or Cosacca. The Marinara has no cheese, while the Cosacca has only small shavings of Pecorino Romano, just enough to highlight the San Marzano. The dough is unmatched, a creation that reveals a lifetime’s pursuit of perfection. Not only is it the best pizza you will ever have. It is also the best bread. 9.98 / 9.99
We wished Anthony God’s blessing on this night before he traveled to Italy. We worried the Italians would sabotage his deserved title of best pizzeria in the world. And God provided, as three days later, Top 50 Pizza announced Una Pizza as the #1 pizzeria in the world for the second time in three years. Truthfully, everyone knows Una has been #1 for each of the last
three years.
Now, if you are interested in trying a pizza endorsed by Anthony, you can try his frozen Genio Della pizzas. They are available in Baton Rouge I believe, but in the New Orleans Metro, the only store that carries them today is the Breaux Mart on Severn in Metairie. Do not expect for it to be anything like Una, a name that he guards closely, but it is the best frozen pizza you will ever have.
There was no where to go but down after Una, but that did not stop me from trying a few new places on our way back to our cousin’s home. The first stop was East Village, where I have heard only great things about Cello’s.
The owner apprenticed under Massimo at L’industrie and both the pizza and the interior give no reason to think otherwise. Neither Mother nor I was thrilled with the vulgarity laced noise piped through the speakers. This grunge-rap mix was upsetting and detracted from a great pizza. If you do eat at Cello’s I strongly recommend getting it to go so your spirit is not injured by the hateful, blasphemous noise.
I started with a plain slice. It was so good, that despite eating pizza all day, I was ready for a burrata slice. The plain slice was equal to L’industrie, but without the line. The burrata slice was better than L’industrie’s burrata. 8.05 and 8.55 respectively.
Cello’s invariably will soon find its way to Best Of lists in New York and America. Like J Slice, it will soon be overrun by tourists, so I suggest you enjoy it before it is spoiled.
A long walk through the city deserved a nice 30 minute prayer within. When I got up I realized I had received several texts from our cousins who were shopping at Bloomingdale’s.
“Get up here right now!” The text read. “Lucali’s has a pop-up food truck here and they are giving away Lucali’s pasta.”
I thought to myself, “Lucali’s serves pasta? I am pretty sure he only serves pizza and calzone.” In any event, we started the trek northward back to the Upper East Side. We finally arrived, before the deluge. We ducked in and began looking for our cousins. After a few minutes of no success, we headed to the second floor where Lucali’s had a display, selling t-shirts that were designed by someone of whom I have never heard. The saleswoman showed us the Lucali shirts. She also let us know that if we spent $150, we would be able to receive a free pasta meal from Lucali’s.
And so, I decided to buy three of the t-shirts on display, one for each of the cousins. I figured a t-shirt at Bloomingdale’s was $50. When she rang me up, however, she said $396. I almost wanted to yell, “$396 for three printed white t-shirts!?” But the decorum Mother instilled in me avoided a public display and I smiled and handed her Mother’s credit card. She said all we had to do was go to the food truck and show the receipt to get the pasta.
And so we went downstairs to Lexington, where the rain lever was now pointed to the off position, and found the Lucali’s truck. It was closed up due to the rain. So I knocked on the facade and a young lady smiled at me and asked what I wanted. “I am here to try the pasta. Here’s my receipt.”
She obliged and handed over a beautiful pasta dish that was very yummy. 8.22.
We had reservations at Una Pizza Neapoletana, about a three mile walk south, so we ate part of our pasta on the walk. Thankfully, it did not rain any more. We arrived a little before our reservation. A line for walk-ups was already stretching up Orchard Street. I felt bad for most of these people, as I knew they were unlikely to get to experience the world’s best pizza on this night.
This was Mother and my sixth visit to Una. Anthony now recognizes us, and as we sat down, he looked up, smiled and waved. “Hey TulaneLSU and Mother!” He is such a lovely person, good natured and welcoming, one of the most compelling parts about his restaurant is how I feel like I am in his kitchen when I eat. Whereas most pizza men who achieve fame and awards use them as tools to expand their restaurant empire, Anthony refuses to let a single pizza from Una find a diner’s plate if it has not first come from his own hands. His journey to perfection is not complete, but he seems most interested in staying the journey rather than being distracted by capitalism.
If you ever get to visit Una’s dough room, you will notice he keeps two things on his wall above him: letters and drawings from his only daughter and a Crucifix. He is a man who believes in Faith, Hope, and Love found only through Christ. And his bathroom is nothing short of class. I am trying to convince Mother to allow me to redecorate my bathroom with Una’s as the template.
Most newcomers flock to the cheesy pizzas, but if you ask Anthony what he recommends, he will always offer the suggestion of the Marinara or Cosacca. The Marinara has no cheese, while the Cosacca has only small shavings of Pecorino Romano, just enough to highlight the San Marzano. The dough is unmatched, a creation that reveals a lifetime’s pursuit of perfection. Not only is it the best pizza you will ever have. It is also the best bread. 9.98 / 9.99
We wished Anthony God’s blessing on this night before he traveled to Italy. We worried the Italians would sabotage his deserved title of best pizzeria in the world. And God provided, as three days later, Top 50 Pizza announced Una Pizza as the #1 pizzeria in the world for the second time in three years. Truthfully, everyone knows Una has been #1 for each of the last
three years.
Now, if you are interested in trying a pizza endorsed by Anthony, you can try his frozen Genio Della pizzas. They are available in Baton Rouge I believe, but in the New Orleans Metro, the only store that carries them today is the Breaux Mart on Severn in Metairie. Do not expect for it to be anything like Una, a name that he guards closely, but it is the best frozen pizza you will ever have.
There was no where to go but down after Una, but that did not stop me from trying a few new places on our way back to our cousin’s home. The first stop was East Village, where I have heard only great things about Cello’s.
The owner apprenticed under Massimo at L’industrie and both the pizza and the interior give no reason to think otherwise. Neither Mother nor I was thrilled with the vulgarity laced noise piped through the speakers. This grunge-rap mix was upsetting and detracted from a great pizza. If you do eat at Cello’s I strongly recommend getting it to go so your spirit is not injured by the hateful, blasphemous noise.
I started with a plain slice. It was so good, that despite eating pizza all day, I was ready for a burrata slice. The plain slice was equal to L’industrie, but without the line. The burrata slice was better than L’industrie’s burrata. 8.05 and 8.55 respectively.
Cello’s invariably will soon find its way to Best Of lists in New York and America. Like J Slice, it will soon be overrun by tourists, so I suggest you enjoy it before it is spoiled.
This post was edited on 9/13/24 at 5:14 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 4:59 pm to TulaneLSU
Our path cut through Gramercy Park. Along the way, I peered into a pizzeria that had offerings that looked too good to pass. So we stopped at Tutto Mia, whose sign was not particularly interesting.
Once inside, my eye was drawn to the marinara, pesto, vodka slice. Popularized by Krispy Pizza in Dyker Heights, this tri-sauced pizza is found throughout the five boroughs today. It is not my favorite, as many use alcohol in it. Some will say, “TulaneLSU, do not worry. The alcohol cooks out.” They miss part of my point. If you use vodka to make the sauce, you are adding profits to Big Alcohol and allowing it to poison more and more. And so before I ever get anything with vodka sauce in it, I always ensure that no vodka was actually used to make it.
Thankfully, at Tutto Mia’s, none was used. As I waited for the friendly worker to heat up my slice – New Yorker tip: always ask for the pizza “well done” when the worker puts it in the oven – he said, “And your Mother, she is so beautiful. I would like to pay for a slice for her. And I will choose it.”
He was probably about 30, and I could tell he was not being untoward, but instead, was a gentleman, who simply appreciates a woman of class and distinction, not to mention unattainable beauty. He chose a tomato and mushroom topped pizza. Mother was pleased. We both were and we loved our pizza and visit. New Yorkers are the kindest of all Americans.
After saying our thanks and goodbyes to the lovely man at Tutto Mia’s (8.22/8.28), we began looking for dessert. We passed two gelato shops, both with lines exceeding 100. The streets were alive with nightlife and young people. And then we came to La Delice Pastry Shop. Its destitution and quietness should have been a loud warning, but there was no line.
Mother got a chocolate cookie and I got a black and white cookie. They both were at least a week old. The flavor of my cookie was such that even fresh, it would have been terrible. I took a bite and threw it away. It was the worst thing I have ever eaten in New York. Ever. 0.01.
DAY FIVE
What better way to start a morning than with readings from the Book of Common Prayer and a leftover slice from John’s of Bleecker with an added pickle? Mother was raring to go, as it was our last day in the city. We soon were out the door headed to Bagel Works, her favorite bagel shop in the UES. They also do a great black and white cookie, not to mention a baker’s dozen of bagels there is just $20, which is a good rate nowadays. We love bringing bagels home to give to one of our neighbors who is from New York and will not eat a bagel unless it was baked there.
Mother wanted to explore Roosevelt Island, as she is considering purchasing a condo there. On the way to the cable car, we passed Roy’s Fish and Sushi.It was yet 9:45 in the morning and he was not supposed to be open, but he saw us looking inward and invited us. I looked at the menu and chose the salmon and tuna sushi special, for $21.
He seemed surprised. “You’re going to eat sushi for breakfast?”
“Breakfast? No, I have already had pizza, a bagel, and a black and white cookie. This is lunch sushi.”
It was actually Roy to whom I was speaking. When he caught a glimpse of Mother, he too was astonished. As he packaged the sushi, he said, “I exchanged toro for your regular tuna because she is so beautiful.”
What a nice man. We grabbed the $4 public transit cable car and I enjoyed the sushi on Roosevelt Island, 7.55, looking eastward to Queens while Mother enjoyed her chocolate eclair purchased at a French bakery.
Our time was drawing near to a close. We decided to make a run to Upside and R Slice to get a few pizzas for friends in New Orleans. Along the way, we passed a Famous Famiglia. Now do not laugh when I say this, but there was a time in my younger years when Famous Famiglia was my favorite pizzeria in all of America. Even more than Showbiz.
Once inside, my eye was drawn to the marinara, pesto, vodka slice. Popularized by Krispy Pizza in Dyker Heights, this tri-sauced pizza is found throughout the five boroughs today. It is not my favorite, as many use alcohol in it. Some will say, “TulaneLSU, do not worry. The alcohol cooks out.” They miss part of my point. If you use vodka to make the sauce, you are adding profits to Big Alcohol and allowing it to poison more and more. And so before I ever get anything with vodka sauce in it, I always ensure that no vodka was actually used to make it.
Thankfully, at Tutto Mia’s, none was used. As I waited for the friendly worker to heat up my slice – New Yorker tip: always ask for the pizza “well done” when the worker puts it in the oven – he said, “And your Mother, she is so beautiful. I would like to pay for a slice for her. And I will choose it.”
He was probably about 30, and I could tell he was not being untoward, but instead, was a gentleman, who simply appreciates a woman of class and distinction, not to mention unattainable beauty. He chose a tomato and mushroom topped pizza. Mother was pleased. We both were and we loved our pizza and visit. New Yorkers are the kindest of all Americans.
After saying our thanks and goodbyes to the lovely man at Tutto Mia’s (8.22/8.28), we began looking for dessert. We passed two gelato shops, both with lines exceeding 100. The streets were alive with nightlife and young people. And then we came to La Delice Pastry Shop. Its destitution and quietness should have been a loud warning, but there was no line.
Mother got a chocolate cookie and I got a black and white cookie. They both were at least a week old. The flavor of my cookie was such that even fresh, it would have been terrible. I took a bite and threw it away. It was the worst thing I have ever eaten in New York. Ever. 0.01.
DAY FIVE
What better way to start a morning than with readings from the Book of Common Prayer and a leftover slice from John’s of Bleecker with an added pickle? Mother was raring to go, as it was our last day in the city. We soon were out the door headed to Bagel Works, her favorite bagel shop in the UES. They also do a great black and white cookie, not to mention a baker’s dozen of bagels there is just $20, which is a good rate nowadays. We love bringing bagels home to give to one of our neighbors who is from New York and will not eat a bagel unless it was baked there.
Mother wanted to explore Roosevelt Island, as she is considering purchasing a condo there. On the way to the cable car, we passed Roy’s Fish and Sushi.It was yet 9:45 in the morning and he was not supposed to be open, but he saw us looking inward and invited us. I looked at the menu and chose the salmon and tuna sushi special, for $21.
He seemed surprised. “You’re going to eat sushi for breakfast?”
“Breakfast? No, I have already had pizza, a bagel, and a black and white cookie. This is lunch sushi.”
It was actually Roy to whom I was speaking. When he caught a glimpse of Mother, he too was astonished. As he packaged the sushi, he said, “I exchanged toro for your regular tuna because she is so beautiful.”
What a nice man. We grabbed the $4 public transit cable car and I enjoyed the sushi on Roosevelt Island, 7.55, looking eastward to Queens while Mother enjoyed her chocolate eclair purchased at a French bakery.
Our time was drawing near to a close. We decided to make a run to Upside and R Slice to get a few pizzas for friends in New Orleans. Along the way, we passed a Famous Famiglia. Now do not laugh when I say this, but there was a time in my younger years when Famous Famiglia was my favorite pizzeria in all of America. Even more than Showbiz.
This post was edited on 9/13/24 at 5:15 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 4:59 pm to TulaneLSU
Trying this slice from their Times Square location did not bring back any of those memories. It was the most average slice I think I have ever had in NY. It was by no means bad, but I am not sure I could distinguish it from a 99 cent slice. 5.00
Upside has for the last five years been my favorite slice shop in the city. It only opened in 2019, but has perfected the long proofing process of sourdough. This is the original location in Hell’s Kitchen. It is always reliable. We got a slice to go along with two 20” cheese pies. At $24 for the whole pie, it is a bargain today. Upside uses a four cheese blend, which is deep and textured. It is not the slice of the TMNTs. 8.11
And then it was back to our beginning, R Slice at Penn Station. So good was my first slice there that I had to get another slice along with two 20” plains to bring back. The fellow making our pie saw our Upside boxes and told us he had previously worked there. He agreed with me that he liked R Slice more. “Better sauce and a better cheese ratio. The doughs are similar though.” He laughed when I asked for permission to take a photo of an Upside box in front of a Roberta’s oven.
And then it was time to catch the LIRR to JFK. But not before I said goodbye to my favorite stuffed animal in New York
Friends, do excuse my sloppy writing, as I was in a rush this afternoon. I am meeting a friend for pizza.
Faith, Hope, and Love,
TulaneLSU
P.S. I have included as many receipts as possible, as it seems there are still posters here, despite my long history here, who doubt the veracity of my pizza reports. Perhaps one day we will all meet up for a pizza party. Oh, and about that Top 10, I did not forget.
TulaneLSU’s Top 10 foods eaten in New York, September 2024:
10. Plain slice, Upside Pizza, 8.11
9. Vegan rainbow roll, Beyond Sushi, 8.19
8. Pasta, Lucali Bloomingdale’s Food Truck, 8.22
7. Burrata slice, Cello’s, 8.55
6. Vegan chocolate chip cookie, Seven Grams, 8.87
5. Vegan Freddy Prinze, Paulie Gee’s Slice Shop 9.08
4. Plain slice, R Slice, 9.11
3. John’s of Bleecker Street, 9.23
2. Marinara pizza, Una Pizza Neapoletana 9.98
1. Cosacca pizza, Una Pizza Neapoletana 9.99
Upside has for the last five years been my favorite slice shop in the city. It only opened in 2019, but has perfected the long proofing process of sourdough. This is the original location in Hell’s Kitchen. It is always reliable. We got a slice to go along with two 20” cheese pies. At $24 for the whole pie, it is a bargain today. Upside uses a four cheese blend, which is deep and textured. It is not the slice of the TMNTs. 8.11
And then it was back to our beginning, R Slice at Penn Station. So good was my first slice there that I had to get another slice along with two 20” plains to bring back. The fellow making our pie saw our Upside boxes and told us he had previously worked there. He agreed with me that he liked R Slice more. “Better sauce and a better cheese ratio. The doughs are similar though.” He laughed when I asked for permission to take a photo of an Upside box in front of a Roberta’s oven.
And then it was time to catch the LIRR to JFK. But not before I said goodbye to my favorite stuffed animal in New York
Friends, do excuse my sloppy writing, as I was in a rush this afternoon. I am meeting a friend for pizza.
Faith, Hope, and Love,
TulaneLSU
P.S. I have included as many receipts as possible, as it seems there are still posters here, despite my long history here, who doubt the veracity of my pizza reports. Perhaps one day we will all meet up for a pizza party. Oh, and about that Top 10, I did not forget.
TulaneLSU’s Top 10 foods eaten in New York, September 2024:
10. Plain slice, Upside Pizza, 8.11
9. Vegan rainbow roll, Beyond Sushi, 8.19
8. Pasta, Lucali Bloomingdale’s Food Truck, 8.22
7. Burrata slice, Cello’s, 8.55
6. Vegan chocolate chip cookie, Seven Grams, 8.87
5. Vegan Freddy Prinze, Paulie Gee’s Slice Shop 9.08
4. Plain slice, R Slice, 9.11
3. John’s of Bleecker Street, 9.23
2. Marinara pizza, Una Pizza Neapoletana 9.98
1. Cosacca pizza, Una Pizza Neapoletana 9.99
This post was edited on 9/13/24 at 5:16 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 5:02 pm to TulaneLSU
TulaneLSU's Top 100 pizzas of America in 2024 may need a few revisions with additions of R Slice and Cello's.
This post was edited on 9/13/24 at 5:25 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 5:05 pm to TulaneLSU
Posted on 9/13/24 at 5:05 pm to TulaneLSU
Wtf. Your shite is tired.
Posted on 9/13/24 at 6:12 pm to TulaneLSU
Arugula does not belong on pizza. Cold handfuls of arugula on a hot pizza is garbage and inedible. Put it in a bowl with some dressing and eat as a side salad, do not put that shite on pizza.
I say this as someone who will try just about anything on a pizza, I don't even hate pineapple on pizza.
Arugula is a NOPE.
Athens has a new pizza place open up downtown years back, big giant brick oven as the centerpiece in the middle of the restaurant, very promising. One of the signature pies was the one with Arugula. Tried it, disgusting.
They were out of business a year later.
Nobody wants that shite.
I say this as someone who will try just about anything on a pizza, I don't even hate pineapple on pizza.
Arugula is a NOPE.
Athens has a new pizza place open up downtown years back, big giant brick oven as the centerpiece in the middle of the restaurant, very promising. One of the signature pies was the one with Arugula. Tried it, disgusting.
They were out of business a year later.
Nobody wants that shite.
This post was edited on 9/13/24 at 8:01 pm
Posted on 9/13/24 at 6:12 pm to TulaneLSU
TulaneLSU, my brother in Christ,
You had me until you said this:
I still read the whole thing though.
I believe I must remind you I am owed two tickets on the maiden voyage of the poor boy tours. Though with your pizza fanaticism I’m not sure that day will ever come.
Pass my best to Mother. I’m sure New Yorkers have never seen a woman such as her.
Yours in Christ,
Upperdecker
You had me until you said this:
quote:
New Yorkers are the kindest of all Americans.
I still read the whole thing though.
I believe I must remind you I am owed two tickets on the maiden voyage of the poor boy tours. Though with your pizza fanaticism I’m not sure that day will ever come.
Pass my best to Mother. I’m sure New Yorkers have never seen a woman such as her.
Yours in Christ,
Upperdecker
Posted on 9/13/24 at 6:23 pm to TulaneLSU
quote:
TulaneLSU's
What a fricking loser
Posted on 9/13/24 at 6:25 pm to TulaneLSU
Im glad you did not participate in eating any pets.
Posted on 9/13/24 at 6:33 pm to TulaneLSU
I enjoyed that - thanks.
Also, this needs to be an OT topic, please share about:
Also, this needs to be an OT topic, please share about:
quote:
I do not need another family after me
Posted on 9/13/24 at 7:05 pm to TastyJibblets
quote:
What a fricking loser
TastyJibblets
North of I-10
Member since Jun 2018
666 posts
I don't think it's a coincidence that this post from you bore the mark of the beast. Tulane/LSU is a gift on high. A friend to us all. You lash out against that which you do not understand.
Posted on 9/13/24 at 7:15 pm to TulaneLSU
Pickles on pizza?!?
[i’m out]
[i’m out]
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