Last night I dreamt about pizza. Because earlier I actually ate the f'ing best I've ever had in my life. DiFara's - Avenue J and 14th st - I'm talking BROOKLYN. I'm talking take the Q train to Ave J at once and fall into a pie like none other.
It's a real unassuming place when you walk in. A bunch of long tables and chairs scattered awkwardly about. Tiers of people circled the counter, hushed, watching the owner, Domminick, and his daughter carefully and quietly make pizza. There was no yelling, no rush. Everyone was patient, and respectful. This place has been around for a long time, a real neighborhood joint. My friend and I wisely changed our order from a bunch of slices to our own pie.
We waited. And waited. People around us waited. There was anticipation, and hunger, and excitement. When our pie came out, I nearly didn't know what do with myself. Sweet Domminick gave us a plate of freshly grated parmesan to sprinkle on top. We shuttled over to a table and ate our first slices in silence. The cheese slides right off if you're not careful. Olive oil collects in the crevices of cheese and sauce. The crust is light and crunchy. Onlookers gazed at our pizza as if it were a work of art. Which it is. I ate half a pie.
The pizza was so good, as I was eating I was worried about when I would be back. When? When? Soon, so very soon.
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to all the lords and ladies, greetings! thanks for coming here to my humble blog. take off your fancy coats and sit for awhile. a calendar of upcoming shows is awkwardly placed at the top of the page. I always love when you and YOU and you attend a show. it should take you about 4 minutes to read my entire blog. if you search for my name on comedy central's website, a page comes up! and redirects you to this site. e-mail me at moonwalk718@yahoo.com smiles, molly
