dresese

Di Fara

Last week I got a chance to visit Di Fara, a pizza joint beloved by chowhounds. This is not a restaurant, it is basically a classic slice joint, except with fanatical devotion to quality.

I've been trying to get there for a while, but it's all the way in Midwood in Brooklyn, which is far out of my way.

The thing about Di Fara is that everything is done by Dominic DeMarco, an older man whose been running this pizza shop for decades. There's a photo of a much younger version of him, standing in the same place he is now, with what looks like the same equipment as he has now. It must be something to work in the same place for 40 years. I tried to imagine myself 40 years old working in my cubicle, but the chances of me being in the same cubicle for even 2 years in a row are pretty much nil.

The strategy of eating at Di Fara is a lot like Dumpling House. You have to go there, shoulder your way up to the counter, make eye contact when Dom has a free second, and blurt out your order. Then repeat it to make sure he got it. Unlike Dumpling House, though, you have to stay and make sure he actually makes it, because his ordering is haphazard to say the least. People who walked in way later than you will be eating before you are, and he may just forget your order entirely.

When Dom makes your pie, he carefully puts the sauce on, then grates his cheese right onto your pizza. Then he pours olive oil on it, and puts it in the oven. It takes a while to bake. Unlike most high-end New York pizzas, this takes longer than 5 minutes to cook. Then again, this is not a high class pizza. It's more like a high-end low-class pizza. He takes it out of the oven to put more cheese on. When he finally pulls it out, the top is bubbling and molten, as if someone had spilled pizza soup on it. Out of the oven it comes, he peeks at the bottom, then takes his basil out and snips some basil right onto the pizza. Very nice.

The taste is great, completely unlike other pizzas. Mostly it is because of the cheese combination. It has a tangier and saltier taste. Also, richer. Two slices is pretty much all anyone needs.

We got not only the plain pie, but also one with half artichokes, half porcini mushrooms. On the plus side, he is generous with his toppings, and the toppings are excellent. The artichokes were not some sort of canned artichoke hearts, but instead little triangles of real fresh artichokes. The porcini mushrooms weren't thin pieces of rehydrated mushrooms, but instead large whole marinated mushrooms. The problem was that these toppings made the pizza very soggy, and you could only eat it with a knife and fork. I liked the toppings, but probably the plain pizza was the best.

The crust, by the way, was good, but not as good as the more high-end pizzerias. On the whole, I think other places had a better pie, but this was certainly the best slice joint I've ever eaten at.