Om Nomz Hero Note to Self: If you napkin dab a slice of pizza from Di Fara’s, you are dead to me.
“Place looks like a dump, you would think they would fix up the place.” This was the first words uttered by a bunch of Long Island residents that I just met in line, getting some pies to go after a night in Atlantic City. If it were not for its reputation, Di Fara’s would look like any other corner pizza place. Though I would rather use the words, “rustic” and “homey” (but I guess it is like telling a fat person that he is just “big boned”)it is what is going on inside that makes Di Fara pizza worth the trek all the way out to Avenue J. Inside Dominic DeMarco is quietly and methodically making pies. He works at a steady pace, not slow, not fast but all his moves are intentional and unfaltered as more and more people show up and orders keep piling in. He just quietly snips some fresh basil and drizzles olive oil over each finished pie and goes about making more pies.
This is what a New York slice of pizza is. This is New York Neo-Neapolitan. This is not just food: it is edible art and history. Dom DeMarco makes me feel like a piece of shit, the dude is old and if I was his age, I would most likely be watching day time television sitting comfortably in my house. This man is cranking out pizzas everyday and doing it well. Though you can get toppings on your pies, it really needs nothing and the plain slice is all that I need. Actually, I am wrong, the peppers in oil they have in a little crock on the side is all I need with it. I burned the crap out of the roof of my mouth eating this but it was worth it, the cheese was salty and a nice pull and the tomatoes sweet. Pizza after the Jump!
