There is no such think as "authentic" Italian pizza outside of Italy

I find when I talk about a lot of these "famous" pizza shops in NYC like Patsy's and Lombardi’s the story always starts out the same. "I went to “such and such” last night for the first time and I will never go back again."


                                                    Remember I am Italian, even better Neapolitan. I have kissed the ground of Napoli and had the fortune of eating at the original Pizzeria di Michele where Jackie and I pictured to the left. There, you take a number and wait outside in some shady neighborhood for a table. Of course, just walking in is worth the wait. You are immediately greeted with a vision of scruffy men laboring over the wood burning oven, cigarettes dangling from their mouths as they sing together old Neapolitan songs. Above all there are two things on the menu scrawled across the original Peroni mirrors, no toppings, and one beer. When your number is up they seat you, they order and never forget you are there. Nella proprio moda Italiano.

Now let’s hop back to New York where I visited Grimaldi's for the first and last time. I was really excited about the adventure to BK because even my aunt has said good things about this spot. Arriving there, I found the location to be cool, the smell inside pretty good, but already I could see "miseria" (misery) at the door. It was going to be one of those nights.

Here is how the service went down, with food issues sprinkled here and there.

> We walk in the door and 5 cocky waiters are standing around with their hands in their pockets staring at us. It must be strange for people to walk into their restaurant. After a few minutes of awkwardness they finally realize they are not as crowded as they think and seat us next to a foreign group with a huge suitcase connecting our tables.

> We sit for about 10 minutes already afraid to ask for service. As the waiters continue to deliberately ignore us it is clear they don’t give a shit about us because we are just 1 of hundreds of tables they have served today. You know what I say to that? Fuck you! People who want to burden me with their woes don’t get tipped and that is honest truth. I could care less how many tables you served or how many you will serve after me, do it with pride not prejudice.

> I get up like the asshole I am to grab some menus which we also never received. First indication this place is not "authentic" the toppings suck! I understand having toppings may be important to you ignorant New Yorkers but when you offer them do it right. No prosciutto! No spec! and definitely no Mozzarella di Buffala! We decide on the antipasti platter and a pizza with pepperoni and olives. I would have preferred it plain but I was with boys.

>We finally order about 5 minutes after I make a scene with the menus and demand water from 3 different waiters. When the waiters arrives there is no "Hello how are you?" or "Welcome to Grimaldi’s, what can I get you?" I would have even taken a "Fuck you for coming, but let me take your order while you are here." But no the waiter comes to the table, makes no eye contact and says: "What do you want?" He jots the order on a little pad because apparently he is not smart enough to remember something as simple as a fucking pizza order.

> Our food arrives probably with spit in it and let me tell you something these people should be ashamed of their antipasti. The plate was lined with 3 pieces of lousy Oscar Myer salami sitting in a pool of some imitation olive oil. Resting on the cold cuts were 2 pieces of processed Mozzarella from the Key Food down the street topped with the only half Italian looking thing, roasted peppers, and dotted with cocktail olives. I didn’t even eat it, that’s how bad this looked.

> The pizza was something to be admired but nothing close to authentic. The sauce was good, the cheese was thick and tasty but like I said I could have done without the toppings. The pepperoni looked like it came from Dominos and the black olives were not what you would imagine them to be, they were those shriveled really salty olives that, like cilantro, taint the taste of anything. I would say the pizza was like Cassie's of Englewood, for those who may know this location, but not even as good and definitely not worth waiting for.

> End of the night we ordered some dessert and requested a check which never came. After 15 minutes of waiting my friend got up to grab the waiter and paid...thanks friend. I almost wish I paid so I could have pissed on these people with a tip and attempt to put a little dent in their ego.

                                                              

Lesson Learned?

I think a lot of you need to know what authentic Italian pizza is. It is so thin you need to fold it twice, once long ways and again across. You don’t need to chew the cheese because it just slithers down your throat. And most importantly the tomatoes should be fresh enough to see the pulp and maybe a cuticle from the guy who crushed it that morning.  The image to the left is a good representation of where pizza like this can be found.  This is taken outside Pizzaria Da Baffetto in Rome

Grimaldi’s pizza: thick, cheese not homemade, and tomatoes, canned. I think these people are secretly Spanish like the folks at Patsy’s and it upsets me that we give them so much credit. But now I can confidently say to all the “authentic” pizzerias of New York. YOUR NOT THAT GOOD SO GET OVER IT! TRY COOKING ITALIAN FOOD FOR A CHANGE!