Dunking Across America

Can I let you in on a Hollywood secret?

Daily donuts. While the Google elite get organic, whole-grain breakfast, us film folk keep it old school with the American classic. Each morning, the craft service table is decked with doughnuts, offering a sweet distraction to our 5 a.m.call. With coffee, the sugar & carb combo packs a potent, energy boost that revs you up for long days of shooting.

In my early days of costuming, I learned my favorite doughnut denomination: Vitamin O. Created by my co-worker, Jim, he used this nickname to trick himself into believing his glazed treat was good for him. What was once considered fattening suddenly became nutritious. Mind over fatter, right?

Tomorrow is National Doughnut Day (..and we are living in a material world...) Based on the Salvation Army's holiday honoring the women who served donuts to soldiers in WWI, the marketing wizards have dubbed the first Friday of June a Day For Dunking. Like mothers and valentines, I come from the camp that celebrating should not be a one-day deal. Nevertheless, I can't resist this doughy opportunity.

From my 3 most well-trodden cities, where to dunk your doughnuts:

Tres Leches

Doughnut Plant NYC
www.doughnutplant.com 

What began as a one-man, bike-delivery service has morphed into one of the Big Apple's best doughnut shops. Doughnut Plant handcrafts all natural deliciousness, excelling in filled and cake varieties, which they describe as "a texture somewhere near the intersection of a classic birthday cake and buttery pound cake". My favorite marriage of the two, the Tres Leches, was inaugurated on Cinco de Mayo in 2006. Like its namesake, this vanilla-glazed doughnut is filled with a dairy threesome of evaporated milk, condensed milk, and cream. As they sang in Schoolhouse Rock, three IS a magic number!

In addition to storefronts in Chelsea and the LES, find these dunkers at Joe cafes around town. Deal Alert: For National Doughnut Day, Doughnut Plant is giving a mini, rainbow sprinkle doughnut FREE with every purchase (while supplies last).

Randy's Donuts Los Angeles
www.randy-donuts.com

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's a donut! It's hard to miss L.A.'s most iconic display of novelty architecture, the famous Randy's Donuts. Open 24-7, this classic drive-thru is my LAX pit-stop for on-board snacks or welcome-home treats.

Wheat & Honey and Buttermilk Bar 

My usual is two-fold. In the foreground, the dense, buttermilk bar is shellacked with sugary goodness. Tucked in the back, the wholesome wheat & honey is a fresh-baked spin on my preferred, childhood cereal, Honey Bunches Of Oats.

Deal Alert: Randy's will be dishing out FREE DONUTS for National Donut Day. Morning only - while supplies last.  Call for exact times 310.645.4707

Cinnamon Sugar Minis 

Market Mini Donuts  Seattle
http://ballardfarmersmarket.wordpress.com/

There's a bit of State Fair fried-ness at the Ballard Farmers Market. Nestled among the rainbow chard and golden beets, Market Mini Donuts fries up made-to-order, bite-size beauties. Opt for a dusting of cinnamon & sugar if you fancy.  Best when consumed piping-hot, the steaming bag doubles as a makeshift hand-warmer on cold mornings. Check out the action below (audio by my nephew, Robert)

Move Over Meatless Monday..

...here comes Pancake Tuesday!

A long long time ago, as good Christians prepared for Lent by ridding their cupboards of richness, eggs, milk, butter and sugar were whipped into decadent treats: raised doughnuts (malasadas) in Portugal, cream-filled buns (fastelavnsboller) in Norway, and pancakes throughout the anglophone world.   A tradition was born and Shrove Tuesday was appropriately dubbed "Fat Tuesday".  For us Anglos, we celebrate Pancake Day, a bacchanalia of griddled goodness. Around the U.K., locals keep the kilos off with pancake races, where apron-clad contestants flip flapjacks while running.  Like models balancing books on their heads, this is an exercise in co-ordination, in a decidedly more carb-heavy fashion.

As a devoted pancake-lover (see my previous ode to the orbs here), I'm honoring this esteemed day by sharing my favorite recipe. For those adverse to cooking, I offer you my go-to spots to get your griddle on. 

Oatmeal Pancakes

In an effort to add healthfulness to her son's eating, my sister turns to Good to the Grain, Kim Boyce's terrific tome of whole-grain baking.  Proving that increased nutrition need not equal decreased taste, these oatmeal pancakes are addictively tasty.  All the comfort of oatmeal combined with a good wallop of butter makes for a moist & delicious, morning treat. 

Oatmeal Pancakes

Adapted from Good to the Grain

Makes about 18 pancakes

3/4 cup oat flour (you can make this by pulsing rolled oats into a food processor or spice grinder until finely ground; 1 cup of oats yielded 3/4 cup oat flour for me)

1 cup all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons sugar

2 teaspoon baking powder

3/4 teaspoon Kosher or coarse salt

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly (plus extra for the pan)

1 1/4 cups whole milk

1 cup cooked oatmeal*

1 tablespoon unsulphured (not blackstrap) molasses or 1 tablespoon honey

2 large eggs

Whisk the dry ingredients (oat flour, flour, sugar, baking powder and salt) together in a large bowl. In a smaller bowl, whisk the butter, milk, cooked oatmeal, honey and eggs together until thoroughly combined. Gently fold the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients. Using a light hand is important for tender pancakes; the batter should be slightly thick with a holey surface.

Heat a 10-inch cast-iron pan or griddle over medium heat until water sizzles when splashed onto the pan. Rub the pan generously with butter (Boyce says this is the key to crisp, buttery edges) Working quickly, dollop 1/4-cup mounds of batter onto the pan, 2 or 3 at a time. Once bubbles have begun to form on the top side of the pancake, flip the pancake and cook until the bottom is dark golden-brown, about 5 minutes total. Wipe the pan with a cloth before griddling the next pancake. Continue with the rest of the batter.

Serve the pancakes hot, straight from the skillet or keep them warm in a low oven. We also found these to reheat surprisingly well the next morning, again in a low oven.

Do ahead: Although the batter is best if using immediately, it can sit for up to 1 hour on the counter or overnight in the refrigerator. When you return to the batter, it will be very thick and should be thinned, one tablespoon at a time, with milk. Take care not to overmix.

* Make oatmeal, if you don’t have any leftover: Bring 2 cups of water, 1 cup of rolled oats and a pinch of salt to a boil and simmer on low for 5 minutes. Let cool. You’ll have some extra oatmeal, which you can eat while you’re cooking.

For those who fancy their flapjacks out on the town, here are two of my favorites, on both coasts, for bountiful brunching:

Buckwheat Pancake 

At Cooks County in L.A., buckwheat packs their pancake with nutty, fermented heft.  Move over Stevia; homemade huckleberry compote and kumquat butter are 100% natural, seasonal sweetners.    This baked behemoth begs to be shared--I recommend the short rib hash for a savory pairing. 

Buttermilk Pancake

Keeping true to their name, Brooklyn's Buttermilk Channel slings a superlative stack of the buttermilk classic.  Freckled buttery brown and pillowy soft, these comforting cakes are what I wish to make at home, yet rarely achieve such a successful crispy-to-doughy ratio.  Wash it down with one of their magnificent Bloody Marys. 

All over the U.S. of A, IHOP is celebrating National Pancake Day by offering free flapjacks all day & night, raising money for local charities. Sounds like a wonderful way to support your community (and your belly).   

Good Gallic In A Petite Package

Buvette West Village Sept. '12
http://www.ilovebuvette.com/
eat: Terrine de Campagne, Carottes Rapées, Poulpes, Tarte Tatin
sip: Arneis

buvette 
noun (f)
1. a refreshment stall or counter
2. a snack bar at a theater, train station, beach, etc.

In French, and English for that matter, the diminutive "ette" connotes feminine (coquette) or little (cigarette), so it is implicit that buvettes are small.  Buvette, Jody Williams' Gallic gem, is indeed petite, but that's all it has in common with it's casual joints across the Atlantic.  Chef Williams' version--which she calls a gastrothèque-- is a pleasure chest of French delights, from fresh-baked croissants and housemade charcuterie, to classic coq-au-vin and cassoulet.   It is spot-on-Parisian without being too precious, yet with the amiable waitstaff, you avoid the oft French tradition of snooty service.

Tucked away on a picturesque, tree-lined, West Village street, Buvette feels at home amidst the gorgeous boutiques and fashionistas who frequent the neighborhood.   Inside the beautiful spot, tin-coffered ceilings, a zinc-top bar, an idyllic garden, and exposed brick walls make for an inviting and aesthetically-pleasing setting.   Waiters sport classic, striped aprons with a touch of personal style, like bow-ties.

Making most of the minimal space, the primary decor element is the food itself.  Jars of cornichons & olives, bottles of wine, a jambon slicer, baked goods, baskets of fruit, and an old-school citrus press adorn the café, creating a homey, culinary collage.  Accompanied by my foodie friend, Shari, who I met while studying in Paris, we are equally smitten with Buvette's likeness to our favorite French haunts.

The pop-up cocktail menu: whimsy that works. 

Arneis

  

Our waiter suggests Arneis, a Piedmontese white.  This light and crisp wine with hints of pear is a lovely daytime quaff.  One wall of Buvette features a chalkboard wine map to help geographically guide your sipping selection.

Terrine De Campagne

Don't be fooled by the diminutive size.  Each morsel of this country-style terrine is packed with porky pleasure. Wrapped in bacon, the smoky, intense pâté is served with a briny trifecta of cornichons, olives, and, my fave, caperberries.  It is served with a delectable, house-baked Pain de Campagne 

Carottes Rapées

Carrots are elevated to star status in this simple salad.  A mélange of grated carrots, pistachios, lemon, and vinegar is surprisingly delightful. It's just the thing for a hot, end-of-summer day.

Poulpes

 Ordering octopus is risky for it is so often incorrectly cooked (a.k.a. rubbery).  Here, the cephalopod is perfectly prepared and deliciously tossed with capers, shallots, olives, and refreshingly crunchy celery.   

Tarte Tatin

Throughout our meal, the tarte tatin teased me from its perch in my line of sight.  Sweet & gooey caramelized apples are crammed into a buttery crust and topped with tangy crème fraîche.  Stick a fork (or two, which our waiter so attentively did) in it - I've found taste nirvana. 

When we are presented with our bill, it is inscribed with the colloquial French translation: la douloureuse.  While its primary definition is "painful", here the word jokingly refers to the distress of having to dish out dollars.  I can't help but think that after such a lovely meal at Buvette, it should be called "happiness" (le bonheur) instead.

Brooklyn Passeggiatta

Brooklyn. Whether you love it or love to hate it, it is the holy grail for explorers of the edible. Throughout the borough, ethnic enclaves serve up regional fare: Russians in Brighton Beach, Hasidic Jews in Williamsburg, and Italians in Carroll Gardens. Let's focus on the latter, a neighborhood I once called home. In Carroll Gardens, the streets are peppered with old-school Italian joints, pastry shops, and seasoned butchers, whose friendly paesanos affectionately call you "sweetie" without any hint of sexism. While authenticity & flavor abound, you also get big portions, affordable prices, and the simple joy of knowing that your dollar is helping a local business. Following are three long-standing classics whose lack of websites mean you'll have to check them out the old-fashioned way: in person.





Defonte's Sandwich Shop
379 Columbia Street
Red Hook








Head under the BQE to an unassuming corner of Red Hook for this historic house of heroes. Open since 1922, Defonte's is a true neighborhood joint, dishing up hot prepared food and those famous hearty sammies. Opt for the Italian Stallion - prosciutto, fried eggplant, roasted peppers, and fresh mozz made in-house. There's no seating--many regulars are workers who eat in their trucks parked outside--but the waterfront is a 15-minute walk away. Picnic Brooklyn-style, watching ships sail by with a primo view of Lady Liberty.









Ferdinando's Focacceria
151 Union Street
Columbia Street Waterfront











Time stands still in this century-old restaurant of Sicilian specialties. Whether you chose the sunlit front or the dark, exposed-brick back area (pictured at start), the interior is comfortably charming, with a vintage tiled floor, coffered ceiling, and old-timey black & white photos on wood-paneled walls. Start with arancini, which are not the mini street-food-size you may be accustomed to. These are breaded and fried baseball-size bombs of ground beef, peas, and rice. We went for the gusto--topped with ricotta, tomato sauce and cheese--and weren't disappointed.


Many frequent Ferdinando's for their panelle, a deep-fried, chickpea patty. It comes on a chewy, white bun with homemade ricotta cheese. In these days of healthy eating, I know that "white food" is a no-no, but make an exception for this deliciously simple sandwich.




Continue with the eggplant parmigiana,
a two-handed winner that is as sloppy as scrumptious.
Wash it all down with ice-cold Peronis.











Court Street Pastry
298 Court Street
Carroll Gardens








Get your dolce at this wonderland of Italian cookies, cakes and pastries. Their cannolis are divine - crunchy, cinnamon-y shells filled with creamy, rich ricotta. Around the holidays, they sell traditional sweets like sanguinaccio, an Easter chocolate pudding sweetened with pig's blood. While that may sound downright disgusting, the blood is barely noticeable and imparts more salty than meaty flavor to this dense, almost gritty pudding.

Fort Delicious

Fort Defiance Red Hook Winter '11
www.fortdefiancebrooklyn.com
eat: Chicken Liver, Tapenade, Grilled Baby Octopus, Roast Venison, Roast Chicken, Shrimp & Grits, Cauliflower Gratin, Sticky Toffee Pudding, Bourbon & Brown Butter Apple Tart
sip: Hot Apple Pie, Morris, Mezcal Old-Fashioned, Sazerac, Marconi Wireless, Sixpoint Otis, Angiolino Maule I Massieri Garganena/Trebbiano


I have fallen hard for Fort Defiance. Like all good love stories, it began with a crush; in this case, it was on the affable owner , St. John Frizell, who was holding court behind the bar my first night there. Sporting a traditional English, chalk-stripe apron, he crafted liquorous concoctions with the precision of a scientist, but without the brazen showmanship of Tom Cruise. This wasn’t your typical, carnal crush; while St. John is a handsome fellow, my affection stemmed more from what he had created. After hearing his tale of How Fort Defiance Was Made, I realized he was living a dream uncannily similar to mine: running a cozy restaurant/bar/café/community hub while writing about food and travel (All that was missing was my fantasy's B&B upstairs).

Fort Defiance is a neighborhood joint fit for whatever mood you fancy, whether a lazy weekend brunch, a filling weeknight meal, or, like in our case, a night of boozing. Where the menu, with just enough choices to accommodate any culinary craving, is full of affordably, delicious fare. This is the kind of place where you get to know the staff by name, where ordering isn’t a command, but a conversation about history, mezcal, or Red Hook. Where everyone is a regular or is welcomed as one. After my first encounter, I was hooked, vowing to return as often as possible. After numerous visits, I am officially smitten.



My first night at Fort Defiance, and in Red Hook for that matter, began after an adventurous walk across the BQE and traipsing through streets of slippery ice and snow. Like British soldiers during the Revolutionary War, we were on a mission, but in search of cocktails rather than conquering New York. Inside, we found a convivial space with Robin-egg blue walls, black & white checkered floors, and tables made from colorful, floral Latin-American fabric.




We took a seat at the zinc bar and perused the impressive cocktail menu, which features classic libations inspired by recipes from around the country. It was a bone-chilling night, so I was delighted to find a whopping SEVEN hot drinks on menu. I opted for Hanny's Hot Apple Toddy, a steaming mug of fresh apple cider, amaretto, whipped cream, and a dusting of nutmeg. Imagine a liquid version of the best homemade apple pie you've ever had - equally delicious, warming and comforting even without the flaky crust.






Next, I had the Morris, a mix of bourbon, Cocchi Americano, Amaro Nocino, and bitters created by by Seattle bartender Jamie Boudreau. Served in a vintage cocktail glass, the copper-hued quaff warmed without the syrupy sweetness of my previous beverage. It was smoky, yet still dainty enough for this recent bourbon convert.







Since we were still stuffed from brunch, we ordered Chicken Liver Pâté and Olive Tapenade for a nosh. The pâté was rich, gamey, and whipped just enough to still have some meaty heft. Combined with the briny and salty tapenade, the two made for a lovely bar-snack marriage. Buttery, crispy traditional toasts were addictive on their own or slathered with dips.





My next visit to Fort "D" was with a garrulous group of fellow gourmands. It was a staggered meal, so we arrived as their main course was being devoured. Eager to sample yet another cocktail, I chose the Oaxaca Old-Fashioned, a potent mix of reposado tequila, artisanal mezcal, and bitters. This heady concoction was too intense and smoky to pair with dinner, but on a subsequent, booze-only visit, it was perfect. Erik had a Sazerac with cognac, which we learned was the drink's original liquor before being replaced by the easier-to-obtain, American rye whiskey. As our waiter, Drubo, so aptly stated, it was a "handsome" cocktail, complete with a giant ice cube--the sign of a devout mixologist.




On menus around town, octopus has trumped squid as the Cephalapod du Jour. Here, Grilled Baby Octopus was charred exquisitely, elevating the seafood to meaty heights. Shaved fennel added complimentary crisp and black olive butter highlighted the briny salt of the octopus' oceanic origin.





As a novice griller, I'm always impressed when meat arrives cooked to perfection. The Roast Venison was Medium Rare Illustrated - bright red flesh encased in blackened char. Its gamey juices pooled under a creamy, earthy sunchoke puree. The warm salad of Brussel Sprout leaves, chopped walnuts, bacon cubes, and diced carrots was so tasty that I have made it part of my home-cooking repertoire.




Cauliflower Gratin was comfort in a cast iron pan. While I can't think of anything that doesn't go well with the winning trio of cheese, butter, and cream, cauliflower is one of the best contenders. The toasted bread crumb topping gave good crunch to the velvety soft cauliflower.





True to my English roots, Sticky Toffee Pudding has always been a fave of mine, yet I'm often disappointed by dry Stateside versions. Here, a moist, molasses-brown cake is lacquered with a rich, shimmering toffee sauce. Upon viewing our fellow diners ferociously pounce upon the dessert, Erik likened them to "wild animals". My only request would be to ask for a family-size portion, please, so as to avoid table-side tussles.






My third eve at Fort Defiance confirmed the cliche that good things do indeed "Come In Threes". I began with a Marconi Wireless, an elegant mélange of New Jersey apple brandy, bitters and vermouth. Its a lady's Manhattan, with more sweet than smack and hued a most sumptuous ruby red. Alyce chose a Sixpoint Otis, a robust, oatmeal stout brewed a few blocks away. Thanks to Drubo's enthusiasm and spot-on description of the Angiolino Maule I Massieri Garganega/Trebbiano, I have found my new favorite, "funky and unique" white wine.




Usually, I avoid chicken at restaurants since it is easy to cook myself and other fuller fat animals tempt me further. However, after tasting this Roast Plymouth Rock Chicken, I will eat a generous hunk of humble pie. Not only did this succulent chicken blow mine out of the coop, but with it's crispy skin and juicy flesh, it was anything but bland. Served with bitter greens, whipped mashed potatoes, and pan gravy, this was better-than-home cooked goodness.




Since the chef, Bobby Duncan, hails from Georgia, it's no surprise that the Shrimp and Grits were delicious, southern comfort. The shrimp were grilled and served shells-on, which kept them juicy and plump and encouraged finger-licking feasting. Piled atop a fluffy, creamy mound of Anson Mills grits, they were surrounded by red eye gravy, cubes of country ham, wild mushrooms, and scallions. This Lowcountry warmer was a welcome break from the meat-laden winter I've had.




The Bourbon and Brown Butter Apple Tart drew from both sides of the Atlantic. From the French, the filling--a gooey, caramelized mess of sautéed apples--was reminiscent of the classic tarte tatin and the crust was fluted in fine, French pastry style. The added oomph of bourbon and the heft of the buttery crust was pure Americana. Truly one of the best I've ever tasted--and as an Apple Pie aficionado, I have gobbled up hundreds of pies.



As the pièce de résistance, Drubo brought us an Angostura aged rum to pair with our pie. Normally not a rum drinker, we adored this rich liquor loaded with vanilla and molasses that complimented our dessert perfectly. This libation education is partly what makes Fort Defiance more than just an eating & drinking establishment. In an interview with Edible Brooklyn, St. John lauds the "Third Place", the sociological concept of a neighborhood gathering spot different from home (First Place) and work (Second Place). It is a place where old and new friends meet, where all people are welcome, essentially an anchor of community life. In Red Hook, it is Fort Defiance.

Taking-In New York's Finest

Pizza plays an integral role in my daily diet. There's the slice-on-the-go, which works equally well as a substantial snack or as post-boozing, hangover-prevention medicine. Snuggling on the couch with pizza + a movie = a damn good date night. When I'm too tired to cook, an enormous green salad, a bottle of cheap wine, and a takeout pie makes for an easy and satisfying dinner. Oddly enough, while I adore pizza, I rarely eat it out, instead reserving restaurants for other, less portable dishes. Yet, since I moved to NYC, I have been eating at pizza-centric spots and have had a pie-piphany: pizza shouldn't be restricted to home consumption.

From a culinary standpoint, pizza tastes better piping hot. Sure, a reheated slice makes for good leftovers, but the pizza crust, like a fresh-baked loaf of bread, is undeniably best when devoured instantly out of the oven. On a deeper level, going out for pizza allows you to get closer to the Italian tradition of family-style dining, which embraces the credo that everything tastes better when shared. With my pizza-loving friend, John, as my guide, I recently visited two teeny, yet popular, neighborhood gems. Even though these restaurants aren't literally "family-style", I wouldn't be surprised to witness slice-swapping between tables at these communal spots.


Motorino
East Village
www.motorinopizza.com


Arriving at Motorino on a chilly, January night, the skinny room is like a toasty oven-- windows are fogged up from feasting diners and the aluminum tile ceiling is reminiscent of a Viking stainless steel stove. It is not-for-the-claustrophobic cozy; the zinc tables are crammed together, allowing for easy ogling at neighboring pizzas. The convivial buzz is enhanced by the groovin' soundtrack, which mirrors the workout playlist on my Ipod - Ice Cube, Justin Timberlake, Warren G.




John, a beer man, orders a can of Dale's Pale Ale, a hoppy, American Pale Ale from Oskar Blues, the company that proved cans are no longer synonymous with crappy beer. In winter, I am an ardent fan of sparkling reds, so I select the Cantine Federiciane Gragnano. This light bodied, ruby red from Napoli is listed on the menu as the "Perfect Pizza Wine", a bold statement with which I heartily agree. Whether you think pizza pairs better with bubbly beer or vino rosso, the Gragnano gives you the best of both worlds.



While reviewers have raved about chef/owner Mathieu Polombino's pizzas, the antipasti should not be ignored. We start with a salad for the season: the Beet Salad. On a bed of winter lettuces, sweet beets, red onion, cubes of ricotta salata, wrinkly, black Moroccan olives, mint, and white anchovies are topped with a barely-hard boiled egg. It's hearty without being heavy, salty and refreshing.




John prefers his pizza uncluttered with toppings. While I normally am the opposite, the Margherita here shows that less can be more. It's a tasty trifecta of creamy disks of mozzarella, crispy basil, and a magnificent tomato sauce. In January, when there are still 180 days until garden-fresh tomatoes appear at the market, this toothsome sauce whisks us away to summer.



I order the Brussel Sprouts and Pancetta Pizza, a flavor bomb that has launched Motorino to the top of me and Sam Sifton's "Best Pizza in NYC" list. The mix of healthful sprouts and fatty bacon is a popular pairing, but combined atop an amazing crust (with mozzarella, garlic and pecorino) it's downright sinful. The pizza actually glistens with olive oil and pancetta fat, a definite step up from the bright orange grease that pools under cheaper pies. The stellar crust is doughy, fluffy, and freckled with charred spots. It is wonderful for sopping up my oily slick.




Lucali
Carroll Gardens
no website

While hip and fun Motorino is smack dab in the restaurant-saturated East Village, Lucali is on a quiet street in Carroll Gardens, a traditionally, Italian-American 'hood. Consequently, Lucali is more quaint and rustic, with a few wooden tables--including a communal 6-seater--scattered about. Unlike the other local, long-standing businesses, Lucali has only been open for half a decade, but it embodies the neighborhood's timeless charm.

The menu is simple, a dream for the indecisive: pizza (large only) and calzone. Basta. Most nights, the owner/pizzaiola, Mark Iacono, mans the brick oven, which is the centerpiece of the room. As if the sweet smell of pizza isn't enough, watching its creation unfold before you is bound to make you salivate. On the night we visit, the place is filled with diners à deux, sharing bottles of wine that they brought from home. To commemorate my recent move to the neighborhood, we bring a six-pack of Brooklyn Brewery's East India Pale Ale, which our waitress happily offers to chill.




The calzone's largess necessitates a knife and fork, which gives us time to savor each bite. Inside the browned, crispy crust, chunks of pepperoni are tucked in massive pillows of ricotta cheese. Somehow, in a feat of culinary wizardry, the calzone is light and airy, in spite of its gargantuan size and the copious use of cheese.






This surprising lightness continues with the pizza, which measures in at 24"--with wine bottles used to roll out the dough. While I tend to prefer thicker pizzas, I appreciate the authenticity, and simplicity, of this crust. This pizza will bring you as close to Italy as you can get without crossing the Atlantic. Toppings are shaved on top; the grilled artichoke hearts, fresh basil, and garlic are veggie delight. Even this omnivore doesn't miss her usual sausage.






Many ingredients are imported from Italy, including ricotta, olive oil, and balls of buffalo mozzarella, which await their destiny in a glass bowl upon the marble counter. Toppings veer towards the traditional--no BBQ chicken here--and vary by night.






FYI, both of these pizza havens do not accept reservations. However, since there are no restaurant bars to whittle the inevitable wait away, both spots allow you to call ahead to put your name on the wait list. If you fancy an apertivo before Motorino, visit nearby Terroir, which boasts an encyclopedic wine and beer-by-the-glass list that is sure to please the most studied or amateur imbibers. For Lucali, a stroll over the BQE leads to the down home Moonshine Bar, which boasts a killer beer list.