Posts from the ‘Pizza’ Category

Sep 22

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Panda Fries & Argentine Pizza

You may be familiar with disco fries (gravy and mozzarella) a.k.a. New York poutine, or even Irish nachos (corned beef, bacon, cheese, onions) but panda fries are an anomaly that have been taunting me on Due Fratelli’s online menu for nearly a year whenever I get the wrong-headed urge to order neighborhood pizza (I swear the prosciutto is mangled country ham). Why panda? I still don’t know; there’s nothing particularly Chinese or black-and-white about them. The combination of vodka sauce and mozzarella is uniquely Italian-American (and I want to say Northeastern since I’d never encountered it prior to living in NYC, though I don’t think that’s true) and is a perfectly delicious tangy and creamy addition to fried potatoes, though not a common delicacy. In fact, I can only see two other pizza places serving panda fries: Grandma Rose’s in Williamsburg and Granos in Astoria. Maybe there’s a connection? I was slightly embarrassed to order them but am now emboldened.

Argentine pizza seems to come and go around this part of Queens, and sometimes it’s not obvious from the outside that a pizzeria is slinging fugazzetta and empanadas in addition to pepperoni and garlic knots. What makes a pizza Argentine? My brief encounter in Buenos Aries has led me to believe that it’s a thick, bready crust but not quite deep dish, a molten blanket of mozzarella, a fondness for whole green olives and roasted red peppers, and the occasional addition of faina, a chickpea pancake that gets draped over the pizza like a triangular carb cap.

Pizza La Boca opened a few months ago, right in the strip where competing Uruguayan bakeries La Nueva and La Gran Uruguaya reign and sell lasagna-like slices too. I would’ve assumed it was run by South Americans if I hadn’t decided to pick up a pizza ordered online (total nightmare in Jackson Heights fyi–restaurants on Seamless and Eat24 don’t know how to use the services, send delivery automatically, and instruct you to just call, which defeats the purpose of living in 2015 and never having to use cash or interact with humans again) and discovered the staff was South Asian. Eventually, the fugazzetta (onion and more onion) I ordered emerged from the oven, a strange rendition I discovered once home. Yes, there was a shit-ton of cheese and onions sprinkled with dried oregano, but the addition of tomato sauce (just a little) isn’t traditional and the sliced onions appeared to be added at the end rather than getting the necessary char to sweeten them up and tone them down. And yet, it still served its purpose as Sunday hangover stomach-padding.

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Jul 14

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Taco Salad, Hot & Messy Sandwiches, Cheddar Bay Biscuits

El Cortez. If you like piña coladas…then 2015 is a great time to be alive. Technically, this isn’t a piña colada but The Commodore (rum, coconut, pineapple, amaretto float) which only serves to remind that El Cortez is a clone-in-spirit of said Williamsburg bar but more tiki and ’80s-leaning (I refuse to let the ’90s claim this breed of suburban junk food Mex) hence the additional presence of the Orange Julio, a nod to everyone’s favorite Creamsicle-esque mall beverage. I don’t even like taco salad (I was so traumatized by a spell in the early ’80s where my mom made weekly taco salads with packet-seasoned ground beef, canned kidney beans, grated cheddar, shredded iceberg, Catalina dressing, and tortilla chips that turned to damp mush when we had to eat leftovers that it somehow made it into my 2011 Elle profile–pretty much my only food blog fame) but I couldn’t stop thinking about the taco salad after learning of its existence. It was totally a crush from afar. But it held up in reality, as well. It’s all about the fried shell, really. Ripping and dipping. If you just eat the beefy bean guts out, you may be saving calories and carbs but you may as well be dead inside. The taco salad, itself, is pure of form, with a base of beans and ground beef, heaving with all of the classic cheddar, lettuce, tomatoes, sour cream, and importantly sliced black olives, no overt twists or upgrades–that’s all in the condiments, a line-up of squeeze bottle salsas (the orange one packs serious throat-tickling heat). The finishing touch? A ramekin of dill ranch foam. I am so going back for the chimichanga.

Union Pizza Works. The thing about dining at 5pm is that by 10:30pm, it’s entirely possible to eat another meal. No regrets about sharing an onion and Gorgonzola pizza and a carafe of Chianti out on the cement patio. And if you’ve had enough to drink, you might hear biscuit pronounced with an Italian accent as Bisquick and order the chocolate dessert for the novelty.

Streetbird. Surprisingly little chicken got eaten for being a restaurant supposedly specializing in rotisseried poultry. That’s because the Hot & Messy, an open-faced toasted cornbread sandwich smeared with peanut butter, and smothered with avocado, bacon scant pulled chicken, and runny-yolked egg jumped off the page with its excess. (Plus, I don’t know if I need to go all the way to Harlem for roasted chicken when I’m surrounded by Peruvian and Colombian renditions.) The notti greens, green beans pan-seared in a vaguely Asian manner with chiles and peanuts and a small bowl of wildly acidic pickles provided some counterbalance. The mac and cheese, of course, did not.

Red Lobster. It’s perfectly acceptable to linger over a Warm Chocolate Chip Lava Cookie and a margarita with a tequila sidecar at the Apollo-adjacent Red Lobster, afterward, or probably any time. It’s a big place. The best part is you’ll still get a basket of Cheddar Bay Biscuits with the menus before they realize you’re not ordering a full meal. Don’t feel bad about it.

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Jun 10

Dani’s House of Pizza

Dani’s is one of those institutions that also happens to be located in one of those Tudor buildings that still thrive in Forest Hills and Kew Gardens, lending it just that extra veneer of Queens charm. Brooklyn has classic pizza, too, obviously but not served in a corner Snow White cottage.

I’ve only come to know it recently after I’ve started getting my hair cut across the street at the suggestion of a young Montenegrin (or Macedonian? I always confuse the two) woman I met at a party last year when she learned I was moving to Jackson Heights. It’s great—the cut is only $25 (it’s double with a blowout, which is maybe more standard for ladies, but I don’t like them) and you can have a mimosa or cappuccino. It’s a salon not a barber shop.

The plain slice is substantial. I originally thought I might wait it out for the pesto style I keep hearing about that wasn’t on display and never appeared in the 20 minutes or so I occupied a seat, but one slice was filling enough. The sauce is sweet, maybe too sweet for some tastes (counterbalance with an aggressive shake of chile flakes) and the mozzarella is laid on thick and melty, like kid pizza, you know, as if a grade school served pizza that actually tasted good.

Pizza isn’t allowed in the dining room and the pizza operation itself isn’t more than a narrow takeout counter that happens to have six diner-style stools bolted down at the far end near the kitchen. The upside of snagging a seat is having more than soda with your slice. A pair of older women were nursing glasses of red wine, but beer is where it’s at. There’s a whole refrigerator filled with beers, most more exciting than what you’ll find at your local Queens bodega. A Gose brewed with coriander and sea salt from the Oregon coast? Sure, why not.

I wasn’t paying attention, but I’m pretty sure the slice and beer were $6. It’s hard to argue with that.

Now, I just need to go back and get that pesto slice. As soon as my hair needs a trim…

I referred to this handsome canine (that’s saying a lot coming from a cat lady) on Instagram as a pizza dog. It turns out his name is Pete. I don’t imagine his last name is Za, however.

Dani’s House of Pizza * 81-28 Lefferts Blvd., Kew Gardens, NY

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Mar 31

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Deer Dumplings, Deep Dish, Cold Beans

Cooklyn There are two types of New Brooklyn restaurants: those that bore and those that deliver the goods. (Also, I’m patiently awaiting the emergence of the New Queens restaurant). Cooklyn, perhaps even in spite of its name, falls into the latter camp with the assist of a few unexpected Greek touches. Yes, there’s octopus. I never order pasta but those I sampled, from a squid ink cavatelli to a lobster mac and cheese to a new-for-spring beef cheek fusilli with fontina, dried cherries, Kalamata olives and mint were strong. Notable small plates (no, they’re not going away) include two of the most un-Chinese versions of buns and wontons I’ve encountered in recent memory: lamb, dill and feta like a mini gyro, and venison dumplings (pictured) served with stone ground mustard.

Pizzeria Uno Like many fleeing obsessions, I don’t recall how or why I became consumed with hitting up an Uno for the first time in over 13 years (thanks to a history of documenting the mundane, I know exactly when my previous and first visit took place even if it’s embarrassing reading old missives). In that decade-plus span Uno added farro, artisan a.k.a. non-deep dish crusts, and arugula and prosciutto as toppings. What? No. I’m pleased to see that the chain is ditching the pseudo-upscale healthy trends and getting back to doughy basics. Sure, deep dish is kind of an abomination. Yet if you think of it as a lasagna with a tart-like buttery crust, it’s reconcilable.

Maravillas I naively assumed that a dish called chicharrones en salsa verde would contain a strip of crispy pork, all crunch and contrast, not soggy, soft skin rolled around the meat. I did not hate this, mostly because the sauce was great and that level of fiery where you begin feeling a tingle creep through your tonsils up into your ears, and perfectly tempered by corn tortillas that I’m pretty sure weren’t store bought. The chips made from these tortillas were light and flaky, but the nachos they were a part of? My gringo punishment. (I’d just had an exchange with the guy replacing a window in my apartment upon seeing my last name: “Can you make Spanish food? You look like someone who cooks cabbage.”) They were cold, not just cold like food delivered carelessly and slow–the pork was steamy–but never warmed in the first place. Chilled beans and solid squares of Munster beneath hte guacamole and sour cream. And I still want to return in person despite all this.

Pampas Argentinas If you find yourself hopped up on tiki drinks at End of the Century (and maybe a surreptitious puff on a silent residential street) and aren’t up for Danny Brown Wine Bar next door and it’s too late for a sundae at Eddie’s, Pampas is a fine enough choice for splitting a parrillada for two three ways and still being barraged by meat. It’s also a little pricier and a lot weirder than the better known Argentine/Uruguayan steakhouses of Jackson Heights/Elmhurst/Corona. You’ll get chicken, not intestines, which is more accurate for Forest Hills. You will also hear a lot of ’70s soft rock, some deep cuts even, Gerry Rafferty plus much Steely Dan. White sangria might come wine-free but tasting like rum. Um, I guess none of that is so weird in retrospect. I did accidentally tip over $100 and had to fill out a new slip, then walked two miles and spent nearly two hours getting the four miles home, none of which was Pampas’ fault.

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Mar 1

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Shovel Time: Salza Pizza

twoshovel Culinarily speaking, Jackson Heights and environs is many things–mostly good–but it’s not a pizza neighborhood. (It’s not always you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone–I knew I had it good when Best Pizza, Forcella and Motorino were all within blocks.) It’s not a great sign when the restaurant you’re greeted by upon approaching the 74th St. and Roosevelt Ave. transit hub is a Famous Famiglia.

Salza, two blocks deep into Woodside, isn’t exactly solving any pizza woes from an artisan standpoint. However, they’ve captured my heart in attempting to embrace more than 20 regions of the world with made-up pies, some logical, many less so.

As a young grade-schooler, I would get creative with scrambled eggs, trying to incorporate sauces found in the refrigerator. Salsa transformed beaten whites and yolks into Mexican eggs, a few shakes of soy sauce made them Chinese, and teriyaki meant Japanese, of course. Those were the only condiments we had beyond ketchup, mustard, and Catalina dressing, so MasterChef Junior this was not.

Salza has no such constraints. A Norwegian pizza can contain shrimp, penne and vodka sauce, an Imperial Dragon may incorporate soy sauce and snow peas and an Inca Beef goes lomo saltado with steak strips and french fries. (Does anyone outside of NYC know what vodka sauce even is? Ok, doing a completely unrelated search for new breed Jello shots, I discovered penne a la vodka on a Portland happy hour menu, so I guess this is a personal blind spot.) Anyone familiar with the Australian custom of adding beets, pineapple and fried egg to burgers might be shocked to see this country’s pizza showcasing sour cream, ham, and corn.

Me, I love pineapple on pizza, a source of mild shame in NYC. Of course, there is a Hawaiian at Salza. But considering Woodside is NYC’s “Little Manila,” a Pacquiao Punch, gilding the gauche standard with spicy sausage (not longanisa, fyi) and red peppers and onions, is really quite sensible when you think about it.

Welcome to the world via Queens.

Salza * 73-17 Woodside, Ave., Woodside, NY

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Nov 18

New(ish)born: Little Caesars Pretzel Crust Pizza

I achieved two new neighborhood milestones today: I joined a gym ($15 a month? Seriously? I can barely complain about no longer having one in my building) and finally paid a visit to the Little Caesars.

Little Caesars itself isn’t terribly motivating. (I’d like to blame its weird lack of an apostrophe à la Tim Hortons.) It’s easy to lump in with faded brands like Boston Market and TCBY that somehow persist. In fact, growing up in suburban Oregon the TCBY and Little Caesars both lived in the same strip mall.

I can say with near certainty that the last time I ate Little Caesars pizza was in 1985 at a picnic table on a weeknight at Blue Lake park, a few towns over, with my family. There was live music, but I don’t remember it. I do remember the crew of unattended kids from middle school sitting a few tables away that triggered embarrassment I tried covering with petulance.

I hoped the group of budding stoners (more methy than potty) not friendly stoners, but girls, some with big waterfall bangs, some who also wore their bangs hanging over one eye and had boots from Wild Pair but didn’t listen to the same music and had older boyfriends they skipped school with and might glare at you in the hallway, couldn’t see me being subjected to a family outing.

I could only express my unease by picking apart the slabs of rectangular pizzas and question why there was a rainbow sheen on the surface of the ham slices. I didn’t eat.

Afterwards, we decamped to the home of a co-worker of my mom’s for dessert, maybe a peach cobbler, definitely with vanilla ice cream. The co-worker had hepatitis, it turned out, type A, I’m assuming, so the next week I had to be dragged to the hospital where my mom worked in billing for a shot, despite screaming and crying that I’d rather just take my chances on developing a liver infection. There wasn’t any choice.

Now I can make all of the poor health choices I’d like for myself. The pretzel crust I’ve seen advertised for the past few months combined with the fact that I now live one tiny block from one of Queens’ only two Little Caesars locations was all the motivation I needed.

If I couldn’t initially remember what the appeal of Little Caesars was, it quickly came to me: duh, it’s cheap. This large pie was $6.50 with tax. Little Caesars is for those who think Pizza Hut is getting too uppity with its Sriracha honey and balsamic drizzles. Also, Little Caesars had the pretzel crust first. There is no online ordering, no delivery, no pick of sizes, if you want a cheese or pepperoni pie you will be handed one HOT-N-READY® from a heated case, otherwise your only other choices are more or less Hawaiian, three meat or supreme. Oh, and there are wings, bread sticks and dipping sauces. That’s it.

I was afraid the takeout restaurant was abandoned when I walked in to a nice yellow, black and white linoleum scheme and silence. I’m not the sort of person to yell for service so after what felt like a full minute I reopened and shut the door very loudly just as the 7 train was passing overhead and got a young woman’s attention from the back. She really did smile, as per the Hot-N-Ready Promise posted on the wall: “Serve every customer with a smile and a perfect pizza, in less than 30 seconds every time!” My pizza would be ready in five minutes (which wasn’t even sufficient to finish this surprisingly lengthy A.V. Club interview with Megan Amram about Cheesecake Factory.) The only other customer during this wait was an Asian man, also on the young side but probably a dad, who got two of the readymade pepperoni pizzas.

Partially because of the sudden cold wave, but mostly because I was afraid of bumping into someone I knew (even though I know almost nobody in the area and it’s not as if most of my building’s residents could give a hoot seeing me carrying the embarrassing box that was radiating the scent of popcorn butter and pepperoni) I tried to get home as quickly as possible. Please no small talk in the foyer.

The thing is, there was nothing to be humiliated about because Jackson Heights’ pizza kind of sucks, frankly. It’s not as if I’m ignorantly shunning a Lucali or Motorino here. The prosciutto and arugula pizza, one of my go-tos, I ordered recently from a nearby place I won’t name was a travesty of heavy uncooked dough and what I swear were hunks of impossible to cut country ham and mealy tomatoes.

(I’ll concede that my recent Taco Bell excursion was egregious, considering the bounty of legit tacos nearby.)

The Soft Pretzel Crust Pepperoni Pizza, on the other hand, is pretty damn good for this genre. My favorite genre: vehicles for processed cheese. What I didn’t realize is that this pizza doesn’t contain tomato sauce, but a layer of creamy cheese sauce, supposedly cheddar, that’s topped by four more cheeses, Asiago, Parmesan, Fontina and white cheddar. 100% real is used everywhere in the ad copy, but I don’t know. It’s a lot of cheesiness, regardless.

I could see this being a very divisive pizza. It’s most definitely not gross, if you ask me, even though it has all of the characteristics. The crispy-edged pepperoni padded by soft gobs of cheese really hits all the sensory neurons and then you get a salt blast as you work your way to the butter-slathered pretzel rim. The bottom of the crust is also buttery so all the little crags almost take on a fried quality, especially after re-heating. Before you can intellectualize what you just tasted, you already want a second slice.

Pro tip: a hit of Trader Joe’s ghost chile flakes adds another dimension.

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Feb 18

Emily

Something about Clinton Hill attracts upstart pizza makers who modernize anachronistic ingredients, and I’m all for it. The Provel cheese used at Speedy Romeo taps into some part of my soul, despite having zero roots in St. Louis. Processed cheese is one thing. Bell peppers are quite another.

The ground pork sausage and still crunchy green peppers (mushrooms are ok) on The Camp Randall at Emily dredges up the unsavory past. At least there were no canned black olives and the cheese curds were unexpected. Even though the combo made me want to cry, I do appreciate the presence of a midwestern “supreme” pizza among the taleggio, prosciutto and honey.

I kept quiet, though, because I’d picked the pasta and didn’t want to be a ordering control freak while dining with a semi-ex-boyfriend. The spaghetti was al dente and crazy rich as you’d expect from ‘nduja, uni and pistachios. It was the crushed nuts, oddly, that stood out the most. The sea urchin and spreadable spicy sausage lost their distinctiveness and instead lent an overall creaminess. It looks to be a work in progress; the current iteration keeps the ‘nduja and adds curry leaves and a poached egg instead.

The kale hegemony is finally complete. I was warned about a change in the kale salad even though I wasn’t ordering the kale salad. It’s now just assumed that all diners will order the kale salad (our neighbors did). No, break free and get the hearty greens in a mustardy vinaigrette with crispy ribbons of fried pig ears that act as a bacony crouton. Interestingly, 1 Knickerbocker has a similar salad that contains curry leaves. Curry leaves and pig ears are already hot in 2014.

The service is as nice as can be, the neighborhood could use new restaurants and the pizzas have great potential–do not take my personal food aversions to be a condemnation.

Emily * 919 Fulton St., Brooklyn, NY

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Jul 13

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Summer of Cheese

Nitehawk Cinema A lot of melted cheese was consumed
in a one-week period. I ordered the queso tots thinking this was some new unexplored
treat then remembered I’d ordered the exact same thing on my last visit to the
theater. Menu memory lapse happens far more often that I'd like to admit. So, how about that Frances Ha?

Taco Chulo I also eat at Taco Chulo more than I'd
like to admit. It's never my idea, but it's a block from my apartment and seems
to appeal to picky eaters. If you love processed cheese like I do and can deal
with brunch on occasion, the queso benedict an underdog surprise. Velveeta
instead of hollandaise, sweet toasted cornbread in lieu of English muffins, and
enough spinach and slaw to give the dish a health halo. Save one half and eat it for
dinner once you emerge from your afternoon Bloody Maria stupor.

Artichoke Basille's The fabled artichoke cheese dip slice has
certainly garnered a lot of attention since it appeared in 2008. Yet it was
only when I noticed an outpost at the Aquaduct casino that I felt compelled to
try it. It's heavy, for sure, and best consumed in a temperature controlled
environment like a casino food court, otherwise all that warm fat and starch
loses its appeal in 90-degree heat.

Waterman's Crab House Sweat and melted cheese not mixing was
the lesson I learned while tearing into a crab pretzel (crab dip baked onto a
pretzel roll is very much a relative of the Artichoke pizza) on a dock
overlooking the Chesapeake Bay while being blasted with the sun's ray, despite
the table umbrellas. I'd still order the massive appetizer again, though. I
prefer the more demure Phillip's version that you can get a rest stops on the
drive to Baltimore.

Pat's and Geno's A pit stop was made on the way back from
Maryland for more unnaturally colored liquid cheese. This was the greasiest
cheesesteak I've ever experienced (and I've experienced quite a few in my time)
and not really in an endearing way. I've always been partial to Pat's, though,
because it's less flashy. Geno's version was consumed for breakfast the
following day and not photographed. The only reason why Pat's was eaten on the
spot and Geno's was saved for later is because Geno's gives bags and Pat's does
not.

Help. I just bought a 12-pack of Kraft Deluxe
American slices at C-Town when there are perfectly nice real cheese shops
within walking distance.

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May 1

Best Pizza

I shouldn't be too harsh on my friends' eating
quirks because it's not as if they have no good ideas. I would've walked by
Best Pizza, never giving it a second thought, if I hadn't been introduced to it
and the vegetable (god, never say veggie or veg) slice earlier this year. Not the
green pepper, olive, mushroom blech that passes for a non-meat slice, but kale,
beets, cauliflower and blobs of ricotta that are more of a treat.

The white slice, which only occurred to me yesterday
after being called out in the latest installment of Real Cheap Eats devoted to
food off the L line, is the better meatless option, if you ask me, though. Less
crusty, so the toppings (not that there are a lot of them) have more presence.
Lemony ricotta, sweet caramelized onions and an unexpected sprinkling of sesame
seeds are all you need. Oh, and maybe a shake or two of chile flakes.

Best Pizza * 33 Havemeyer St., Brooklyn, NY

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Oct 14

The Pizza Company

Pizza Hut gets a lot of play online because the
company's path to success in other countries appears to be paved with stuffed
crusts and other novelties.

They were doing the shrimp cone thing on my
previous visit to Bangkok in 2010.

This time? I'm not sure. Is a soft floppy crust that exciting? I may be missing the point of this promo.

This time I wanted a taste of the homegrown, and
that meant The Pizza Company. It's the Thai Pizza Hut. This particular branch was in the MBK mall, others are delivery-and-takeout-only. (There are alternatives
to American imports. Black Canyon, for instance, is the local chain that
competes with Starbucks or Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf.)

Pizzas and pastas are equally popular; combos are
available and most parties order both.
Seafood and spice both play major roles, as shown in the pad kee mao spaghetti,
a logical fusion of drunken noodles with Western pasta. This was not bad.

Pan pizzas are called "personal" in the US
for obvious reasons. The diminutive though bready quarters are meant for one.
In Thailand it is suggested for up to two diners. Two slices of shrimp,
mussels, fake crab, pineapple and chiles on thousand island dressing is
probably more than enough for most Americans anyway.

I don't know what the ketchup was intended for. Also note the turquoise Bubblegum Sparkling beverage. Caffe Nero glowing in the background is a Black Canyon offshoot. Offshoots are big.

Do not be fooled by the old white guy (this was also
the only place where I encountered American Spanish-speakers in two weeks in SE
Asia and the Middle East) The Pizza Company is just as popular with Thais as
tourists.

The Pizza Company * Multiple Locations, Bangkok, Thailand

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Posts from the ‘Pizza’ Category

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Panda Fries & Argentine Pizza

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Taco Salad, Hot & Messy Sandwiches, Cheddar Bay Biscuits

Dani’s House of Pizza

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Deer Dumplings, Deep Dish, Cold Beans

Shovel Time: Salza Pizza

New(ish)born: Little Caesars Pretzel Crust Pizza

Emily

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Summer of Cheese

Best Pizza

The Pizza Company

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Occasional Instagramming

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The Past Will Haunt You

Pigeonholing 101