what’s better than a weeknight trip to dumbo, good new york pizza, and an east river ferry ride at dusk?
trick question. nothing.
a few weeks back, my cousins and i planned to meet up for a monday night meal. with one of the boys visiting the city from the west, we knew we needed a noteworthy new york nosh for dinner. grimaldi’s it was.
the original location of this new york institution is located under the brooklyn bridge, at front street. it’s there that pizza experts use a coal brick oven that heats up to 1,200 degrees to make their masterpiece: a smokey, crusty, cheesy dream. we decided to design two of our own pies: one with meatballs and ricotta cheese (pictured below) and another with onions, italian sausage, and sun dried tomatoes.
we inhaled our slices from a perch on the second story of the classic italian joint. we overlooked the main floor, featured below, where red and white checkered tablecloths absorbed the drippings of quality olive oil that would inevitably dribble from diners’ antipasto plates, pizza pies, and calzones.
when we finally felt full enough to stop picking at meatballs and grabbing at stray onions, my cousins got the remaining slices wrapped up–for breakfast the next morning, they said.
satisfied, we made our way out of the restaurant, where a line had formed out the door and down the block. word to the wise: even on a monday, get there no later than 6 p.m. to avoid a wait.
my cousins were heading back to the east side, and i to the west. so, we said our farewells and while they made their way to the f train, i wandered over to the east river ferry stop a mere 100 or so feet from the restaurant. i paid $4, hopped on the boat, and furiously snapped away amidst similarly excited tourists and dissimilarly uninterested new yorkers who were simply making their daily commute home from work.
the ferry ride was over far faster than i would’ve liked, and soon i was back on the subway, zooming uptown towards home.