A taste so delicious that it caused me to miss my flight

This is one of those confessional stories that I normally would be extremely selective about who I tell. 99.9% of the population just wouldn't get it. Frankly, they'd see me as a glutton. Or a buffoon. Probably both.

But, hey, I figure if you're still checking in on my blog after I haven't posted for a month, then there's a good chance that you might be part of that 0.1% that would be sympathetic to my gluttony enthusiasms.

You see, I missed my flight yesterday for a couple of slices of pizza. Plain. Cheese. Pizza. No toppings. The menu posted on the grease-stained wall calls it simply "regular."

My odyssey began at 11 yesterday morning in Manhattan. What am I doing in NYC? This is a story about pizza, so where else would I be? Really, though, my darling wife N is there for the summer. Something to do with graduate school, a masters degree, training for her promotion into school administration, yadda, yadda. All I know is I missed her, so I visited her over the long holiday weekend. More on the rest of the trip another day.

At 11, I departed the place where we were staying on the Upper West Side, suitcase in tow, umbrella poised over my head. I dodged puddles, ignored the light rain, and hopped aboard the A train to JFK. I learned the hard way that a few sprinkles are enough to grind the subway system to a halt, so it took 2 hours to reach the airport. Then again, the ticket only cost $2, so I can't complain. I checked in my bag, leaving me 4 hours to grab a bite to eat in Brooklyn before my 5:30 flight began boarding.

4 hours. Seems like plenty of time for a couple of slices of pizza, no?

The object of my quest wasn't just any pizza, but you probably suspected that already. Although I didn't know this at the time, my Grail has been universally praised in virtually every publication that writes about food, New York, and/or pizzas (even the London-based Financial Times). This pizzeria receives a 27 in the most recent Zagat Survey, the same score as Jean Georges (!!??). Pizza blogger Adam of Slice has written about it so often, it is its own category. It is featured prominently in Ed Levine's pizza guide.

I, however, had only read about it in Molly's memorable post last September on her food blog, Orangette. Her story and accompanying photos were enough to convince me that I needed to visit DiFara Pizza.*

From the airport, it took me 3 transfers and over an hour to reach the pizzeria. When I last checked my watch, it was well before 3:00, leaving me an ample 2 hours to eat and get back to the airport. [At the time, I had no idea that waits at DiFara routinely exceed an hour.] All I knew is that there were only about 10 people in front of me. Shortly after I arrived, 2 of them tossed up their arms in disgust and left, a gesture which should have given me pause, but instead strengthened my resolve. Mind you, I was ravenous, having eaten little more than a croissant for breakfast.

I was also completely mesmerized by what I saw before me. Time had ceased to have any relevance.

The aroma of bubbling tomato sauce, fresh basil, and melting cheese blindsided me as soon as I stepped into the diminutive corner store. Like the truffle pig digging furiously in the dirt, I was driven mad with desire. DiFara's walls are painted tomato sauce orange, every square inch of space devoted to press clippings singing the praises of its pizza. The décor is classic dive, a half dozen grease-smeared, crumb topped folding tables surrounded by a few wobbly chairs. Little pots of fresh herbs - Greek oregano, basil, rosemary - sprout off the counters and in the front windowsill, where passersby occasionally place orders for an Italian ice (sorbetto) or antipasti like stuffed zucchini flowers.

A 12-foot white tile counter divides the room in two. On the one side, are the surprisingly patient New Yorkers, who were, like me, entranced and salivating. On the other is the master pizzaiolo, Domenic DeMarco. The 69-year-old DeMarco goes about his business, in no particular hurry, serenely crafting pizzas one at a time just as he has for the past 47 years, 7 days a week. This is a one-person operation. No one else touches the pizzas. If he's sick or needs foot surgery, as was the case in April, DiFara closes. A few of his 7 grown children help him by taking orders and doing other tasks behind the scenes, like making sauce and dough and cleaning dishes.

DeMarco makes 2 kinds of pizza, round (thin crust) and square (thicker crust Sicilian-style, cooked in a blackened rectangular pan). For each round pizza, I repeat, made one at a time, he strolls into the back, emerging with a well-proofed blob of dough. He dusts the table with a big handful of Colavita brand Italian Tipo "00" flour, then gently but purposefully prods the dough with all of his fingertips until it roughly approximates a circle. He picks the dough up once or twice to stretch it, gravity causing it to ooze like a Dalí clock. He lays the gooey dough (the wettest I've ever seen) onto his wooden peel, unbothered (satisfied, even) by its amoebic shape and twisted, tattered edges.

Onto the dough DeMarco swirls a generous 12-ounce ladel of barely cooked red sauce made from a combination, I've read, of fresh and imported canned San Marzano tomatoes with basil. Next come the 3 kinds of cheese. First, he uses the slicer side of a well-worn box grater to reduce a block of low moisture, full fat deli mozzarella into slivers which he spreads out on the pie. Then he grabs a fist-sized ball of fresh fior di latte mozzarella (or, some days, mozzarella di bufala from his family's hometown in the province of Caserta, Italy) and crushes it into 6 or 8 chunks (the proportion of cheese looks to be about 2 or 3 parts deli mozzarella to 1 part fresh). He then drizzles the pie with Filippo Berio olive oil from a long-spouted copper pitcher before he slides it into the (purportedly) 700˚F inferno (nearly 400˚C).

After a few minutes, DeMarco pulls out the pizza, its cheese and sauce now bubbling volcanically, the edges and bottom of its crust scorched in spots. He showers it with the third cheese, a young parmigiano reggiano (sometimes grana padano) which has been grated from a hand crank rotary grater affixed to his work table. For his final flourish, DeMarco uses a pair of scissors to snip a bunch of fresh basil onto the top of the pizza, and then slices it into 8 wedges.

I watched this process over and over and over again as I waited for my 2 slices. But really, I could have easily whiled away the whole day in that shop without a complaint, observing the master artisan and listening to local Brooklynites' comments. One man stopped DeMarco from snipping basil onto his round pizza to go. "No green leaves. I have to pick them off or the kids won't touch it." DeMarco quietly shot back: "Don't come crying back to me when your pizza doesn't taste right."

Was the pizza worth the wait? Was it worth missing my flight home? An emphatic YES! The cheeses, olive oil, and sauce co-mingled into a soupy mess, but played off and balanced each other perfectly. The tomato sauce, infused with basil and Greek oregano, had just the right degree of tanginess. The milk flavor of the fresh mozzarella shone through, while the reggiano added its distinctive salty nuttiness. The crust was magnificent, proving that you don't need a wood fire to make a perfect pizza. It was crisp on the outside and pleasantly chewy within, exhibiting irregular air pockets like a loaf of ciabatta.

Still blissfully high from my pizza, I stood outside DiFara for 5 or 10 minutes, slowly slurping on a lemon Italian ice, dreamily hoping I might be able to hail a cab. Not a single one passed in that time. I glanced at my watch. An hour had passed since I had arrived. "Oh, it's 4:00. Don't I have to be somewhere?" Panic slowly gurgled up as it dawned on me that I may miss my flight.

After a series of long delays on each subway line (curse the MTA!), frantic cell phone cries for help to N, and a futile sprint through the airport, I arrived too late, drenched in sweat. Fortunately, N got through to the airline 2 minutes before the flight left, so I didn't lose any money and was able to get on a flight home today for no extra charge.

Would I do it again? In a heart beat. You never know when you will again be able to witness a master craftsman like Dominic DeMarco. In an article that appeared in the New York Times a year ago, DeMarco shared his philosophy, saying something I find very inspiring, something which makes me glad I missed my flight.

"Pizza has become considered a fast food. This one is slow food. Anything you do, when you do it too fast, it's no good. The way I make a pizza takes a lot of work. And I don't mind work."

* DiFara Pizza
1424 Avenue J (at E. 15th Street)
Midwood neighborhood of Brooklyn
Subway: Avenue J stop on the Q Line
Telephone: 718.258.1367
Cash only
________________________________
I felt too much respect to interrupt DeMarco by taking lots of photos, a decision which I later regretted. Fortunately, others weren't so shy and there are countless photos of Dominic DeMarco and DiFara on the Web. In fact, thanks to Jason Perlow, the founder of eGullet, you too can while away hours watching the gently stooping DeMarco make pizzas. Perlow filmed the master in action as he assembled round and square pizzas. You can watch the 4-minute DiFara video (Flash required) which plays in a nonstop loop, or peruse his excellent still photos on his blog, Off the Broiler.

Food|and Drink|Restaurants|Pizza|Review|New York

Comments

[Gerald]

Wow, the things food will make a glutton do!... Great story!

[Molly]

Bravo, Brett! I'm proud to have inspired such rash behavior - Di Fara deserves nothing less! And I'm so glad to hear that you loved the pizza as much as I do. Now that Brandon and I are both in Seattle - no more every-other-month trips to NY for me! - I really miss the stuff. If I were you, I'd book another trip to visit your wife before the summer is through...

[Tea]

What a great story! When you think about it, people miss their planes all the time with far less reason. And this is just another reason for me to get back to NY soon. I am worried DeMarco may decide to retire before I get to experience the bliss of DiFara. Thanks for sharing.

[Joy]

Brett, you make me so proud.

[yoony]

that pizza looks amazing!!! i would like to have one right now for breakfast. definitely flight-miss worthy. :)

[sam]

I have never missed a plane and would be mortified to do so, but if I did miss a plane in the future, I hope I will have such a damn fine excuse as you for doing so.
Oh, you crack me up!
BTW check clotilde's site for the details about that meet up we talked about, it is this coming Monday, hope to see you there!

sam

[Jason Perlow]

Awesome post. I couldn't of said it better myself. Thanks for linking!

Jason

[Melissa]

What a story! I was biting my nails until the end, hoping that pizza was going to be worth it. So glad to hear it was, but I must admit to feeling a pang of poignant sadness at reading about DeMarco - there are too few people left in the world who take such time, pride and care in their food. I, for one, will just have to get myself to NY before the chance to experience this genius is gone!

[savina]

sympathetic to your enthusiasms, indeed

[David L]

So that's where you've been...at least you have a good excuse!

[Elise]

What a great story! I can just imagine how good those slices must have been.

[Bea at La Tartine Gourmande]

That is funny! You are definitely making me curious about this pizza now!

[meriko]

That's a tasty, tasty piece of writing! I'm pining for pizza, now....
(Maybe the Schneiders will join me on a trip to visit Jenblossom & Mike...)

[elle]

sounds heavenly-it's 10:30 in CA and now I'm really hungry-sounds like it was worth it.

[hchie]

Great site you have here. I just love the recipes you feature.

[jenjen]

must have been one amazingly, awesome, stupendously great pizza to illicit such a response from you, so far as to miss your flight.

pizza? plane? pizza? plane?

[barbara]

My son is currently visiting NY. I'm sending him around to taste the pizza for me...and film the making of it.

[Brett]

Gerald, takes one to know one, doesn't it? :) I thoroughly enjoyed your own gluttonous site, by the way, and plan to check back often.

Molly, yes, I lay all blame fully on you and your delicious description. Did I say blame? I meant gratitude. Thank you :) I am going back in a few weeks to help N pack things up. Unfortunately, we're going to be on a very tight schedule, so I doubt I be able to return.

Tea, yes, I highly recommend getting to Brooklyn soon. And you're right. I was surprised to learn that it's not such a big deal to miss your flight. Next time, I'll get a whole pizza!

Joy, I not surprised that someone who flew all the way to Chicago for dinner would be proud of someone who missed a plane for a slice of pizza. Next thing you know, we'll be flying to Spain for a simple dinner.

Yoony, Di Fara pizza for breakfast. That would be a fantastic way to start the day!

Sam, I suppose I was somewhat embarrassed. I certainly didn't tell the person at the ticket counter the reak reason that I missed my flight. I just muttered something about it being a "long story" and claimed that it involved delays returning a rental car.

Jason, welcome to IPOS. Your pictures and videos of Demarco are a real treasure! And that little site you started, eGullet, ain't too shabby either :)

Melissa, yes, get to Brooklyn soon! Just don't miss your flight back to Edinburgh!

Savina, maybe we should start a support group for us gluttonous types. On second thought, maybe that's what food blogging is all about.

David, well, I've been up to other things besides eating pizza. More on that soonl.

Elise, I was so incredibly hungry and those slices were so amazing. I only wished I'd ordered more.

Bea, you must give it a try next time you're in NYC. I think that the show and the interminable wait is a big part of the experience.

Meriko, I imagine that it wouldn't take much to convince Derrick and Melissa to head to NYC.

Elle, yes, definitely worth it. No question about it.

Hchie, thank you for your kind words.

Jenjen, pizza? plane? Plain pizza!

Barbara, send your son to Di Fara. Demarco is truly a master pizzaiolo and should be filmed. I think he would especially be flattered to be filmed by someone from Down Under. It has to be a day, though, when your son has lots of free time. And preferably not a day when he has to catch a flight!

[Luisa]

While I would laid down on the airport floor and DIED if I'd missed my plane (because I'm anal and Type A and need HELP), I think that as my final meal before dying, Di Fara's pizza could be just the thing.

[lobstersquad]

wow, a real odyssey, but well worth it I´m sure.
I only ask for a plain cheese pizza if the place is good. I think it´s the ultimate test, like plain vanilla ice cream.

[thebizofknowledge]

I'm not sure I would have been willing to invest all the time and effort you put into getting this pizza, but it sounds like the results were probably worth the ordeal of getting there. Guess the chain pizza joints don't stand up to this one!

[Lisa G]

Having lived in NY ( and working in NYC) for a decade, I do have to say there is pizza ( yawn) and then there is PIZZA. Until you've had a slice ( or two or three or...) of the REAL DEAL you really will just become heartily annoyed...even downright cranky, athaveing to endure all the chains mass producing ( in a hurry) what is commonly known as "pizza". A thin charred crust, VERY hot oven, FRESH sauce and cheese ( especially sliced buffa mozz) FRESH basil, sweet olive oil....wow. I HAVE to get back to diFara's!! Lisa ( now in CT)

[Leon Mills]

I sit here writing this comment in Newark airport. I had 5 hours to kill before my flight home to the UK, inspired by your article I had to go on this gastronomic mission, Dominic was there, his hands covered in flour, the pizza was ooosing oil just as you described.

Personally i think parmesan has no place on a pizza and it is too tart, but he blends it in such a way that it creates a fantasic compliment to the mozarella. I had 3 slices and 2 pepsis, total $11 - what a bargain. The only difference is, i will NOT be missing my flight ;)

[slam man]

Funny enough, I still prefer the plain cheese to peperoni

[Mike Kellar]

Back in the 40s I used to spend my summers in the little town of Croten Falls,N.Y.near Brewster.There was a little place called the Dew Drop Inn owned by 1st generation Italians,that was where I had my 1st pizza,being from rural WV I had never heard of pizza.To this day I still remember the taste of those pizzas.And although I have eaten pizzas from coast to coast including Italy,I have never found one even close.the only thing I can remember is that they were very thin and spicey with just the tomato sauce and strips of mozzarella cheese.Although I am now 70 I would be willing to go to NY or where ever if I could find one.Does anyone out there know what the recipe might have been?