Gabriel Dufurrena

I might have to go back to my past pizzeria reviews and drop their ratings just to accent how good this pizza was. Okay, three components to a slice: dough, sauce, and cheese. Simple enough, but hard to perfect. 1. Dough. Scarr's dough is phenomenal. It has a unique flavor to it, a little nutty, not sweet like a lot of spots. The texture of the crust was amazing, more puffed up than I'm used to, cooked through with a nice crisp. I always eat the crust, but even my dad, who is picky about crust, would be all over this. Even your kid brother, who always leaves a plate of chewed up and folded crusts behind, would eat this. It has the look of a crust that might get left behind, but it's certainly not. Okay, I made that clear I think. 2. Sauce. Now, if you've seen the Munchies special on Scarr's Pizza, you know they get all pretentious about the sauce. I'm of the belief that a good sauce is just San Marzano tomatoes reduced for a bit with maybe a pinch of salt and a

Chop cheese, or chopped cheese, is a sandwich that sort of walks the line between a burger and a sloppy joe. Served on a hero or a bun, this sandwich is a modern staple served off the menu at every corner store/deli/bodega in the five boroughs of New York and nowhere else. It’s been referred to as New York’s answer to the Philly Cheesesteak, but I don’t think that’s fair to say. It’s its own beast, and delicious as it is the growing publicity of this tinfoil wrapped or styrofoam plated dish has garnered a fair deal of controversy. The price of the sandwich at most places you’ll find it matches the price of any other sandwich on the menu: typically four dollars on a bun or five dollars on a hero. If that seems cheap, it’s because it is cheap. It’s cheap because it’s not made for profit, or to exploit customers, or as a gimmick to get attention. It’s cheap because when it started, likely in the early nineties, that’s what people would pay for it. What is this sandwich? It depends

Bushwick, Ridgewood, the word is out. Fazio’s is the place to go. It’s just on the cusp of hipster while still staying true to the whole Brooklyn/Queens OG spot to get a slice. Fazio's isn’t open late comparatively. It’s only open until 11, or midnight on weekends, but the pizza is fresh whenever I visit. They dedicate the bulk of their display case to the square slice and with good reason. For just three bucks for a Sicilian slice, this is not only one of the best deals in the five boroughs, it’s also amazing pizza. The sauce is fresh and tastes like it should. Not too sweet, not too acidic, just tomatoey. Is that a word? I guess it is because google isn’t giving it the little red squiggly line. Yeah, it’s good. It’s definitely from a can, which is fine and honestly what I would use in the same situation. Fuck rendering a tomato, let alone a hundred or a thousand; however many it takes to run a pizzeria. Also, it’s worth giving the thin crust some credit. After a measly

What can be said about Joe’s that hasn’t been echoing through the New York streets for years. Joe’s is a staple for a reason. It’s simple, it’s classic, it’s the ideal New York slice. It’s where you go at four in the morning when you’re out on the town and need a place to park yourself. It’s the cliche pictures of celebrities on the wall kind of place you go to if you’re from out of town, but it’s also the kind of place you go if you live around the corner and you just need a bite on your way home from work. Hell, I’d hop off the subway to avoid the rush hour commute and get a slice here. Joe’s is so standard, so quintessential, that if you’ve never had New York pizza in your life I’d send you here first. Each slice is ideal, with an excellent cheese to sauce ratio and a strong crispy crust to hold it all up. According to founder Pino “Joe” Pozzuoli, the recipe hasn’t changed in the sixty years since they opened. The cheese is melty, purely mozzarella, and doesn’t dry out a

I have a running joke about “Artichoke Basille’s” because where I grew up, Oakland, there was a franchise just a short bike ride away at the UC Berkeley campus. I actually saw the one in Berkeley first, then weeks later I was visiting a friend in Bushwick and walked by the one on Wyckoff. Of course, I insisted (sarcastically) that this was a restaurant modeled after the original location in Berkeley, and to really drive the stake into the heart of this New York pizza purist, joked that they were trying to emulate the perfect Northern California style pizza. Of course, Artichoke Basille’s is a nine year old pizza chain based in Manhattan, with a few locations in Brooklyn and apparently one in Berkeley. Artichoke Basille’s is the brainchild of the Staten Island natives and cousins Sal Basille and Francis Garcia. They’re style and expertise was refined in a lifetime of working in their family’s restaurant “Basille’s” in Staten Island. Now, these pizaiolos have spread their dough

Williamsburg’s “Best Pizza” is a new icon with an old school flavor. The interior with the yellow light plastic sign menu and red cursive lettering, walls plastered with paper plate art. It’s impressively nostalgic for a joint born from a young buck’s vision. Head chef Frank Pinello gained fame from his Munchies series “The Pizza Show” in which he tours the world of pizza and dives into the history of each famous pizza region. He hails from “Roberta’s”, but while “Robterta’s” borrows its style from the classic, certainly not New York, woodfire and fermented crust, Pinello revives the quintessential New York Slice. Walk in and marvel at the shameless display of the kitchen. Pizza carousel to the left, counter in the middle, and register to the right, all framing the bustling oven and dough tossing space. The design celebrates classic Brooklyn pizza culture. The cheese slice is $2.75, right there where it belongs, and it is served on a paper plate just like any other pizza spot

I’m ashamed to say that in the past week I’ve been binge watching Gordon Ramsay’s “Hotel Hell,” a show in which Ramsay tears into failing hotels, gives the staff and owner a pep talk, slaps some bright colored paint on the walls, then calls it a day. It’s addictive, if not overly formulaic, and ironically the show is sort of sloppily put together. Don’t get me wrong, I admire Ramsay at times. He has the capacity to be compassionate, he’s more or less an honest judge of character, and he’s a skilled chef and businessman. What concerns me is the lack of intentionality behind his work. I’ve been an avid Yelper for a little bit, I’m ashamed to say, but like a consummate food reviewer I attempt to write strictly positive reviews. If I don’t like a restaurant, I just don’t give it any press and I don’t go back. I don’t believe in throwing shade and potentially damaging a person’s livelihood based on one negative experience, you never know the true impact of a one star restaurant revie