Eating in Hermosa

If you get off the Broadway Local somewhere around SoHo, skip up the cement stairs mosaically adorned with old chewing gum and, once you're tossed out onto the street you head for any local South Manhattan pizzeria, you might do a double take curbside wondering what the hell happened to the seal skin covered surfer dudes and tan babes slam dunking volleyballs on the beach. Hey, by the way, where is the beach? You can only embrace this bit of ecstatic confusion if you've recently had the incredible delight of dining at Pedone's, a not so little taste of old New York less than 3,000 miles away from the Big Apple's contribution to world culture other than lives expressed in cut time and cabs doubling as asphalt rollercoasters. Like most NY ex-patriots, I didn't have much time when I stopped by this checker tablecloth hamlet between Pier and 14th on Hermosa Avenue on a Sunday night in April, so when the hostess asked me what I would like, I figured that the best way to test a pizza place and skip through a menu packed with traditional Italian favorites like Eggplant Parmesan, Chicken Marsala, and Spaghetti & Marinara, would be to order, that's right, two slices of plain pizza. Even if he'd had a bad day, The Godfather himself would be smiling. And so was I... in between bites, of course. This was a blessed union, the perfect marriage of slightly chewy thin crust and wholesome cheese that, as I compose this, continues to lure me back to the old country, even if the old country is 13 miles long and was purchased for a handful of beads in a deal that would have made Donald Trump proud. Then again, Trump probably would've said the Europeans paid too much. So the next time some 20 inch cardboard box protecting a cardboard disk "fresh" out of the oven from one of those mass pizza plants confronts you with: "You've tried all the rest, now try the best!" tell that little chef imprinted in red outline on the outside: "Forgettaboutit! I'm going to Pedone's. I'm gettin' me a real pizza."