Za-Za-Za-Zoom: The “Grandma Pizza” Forges Ahead in New York!

Za-Za-Za-Zoom: The “Grandma Pizza” Forges Ahead in New York! David Rosengarten
The Grandma Pizza

The Grandma Pizza

I’m lovin’ the contemporary explosion in New York pizza; there are so many styles now available, so many shapes and sizes, and, of course, the part I like least…so many toppings! (Basics, pizzaiolo, ya need basics!) About ten years ago, for THE ROSENGARTEN REPORT, I did a classification of New York pizzas…but the scene is crazy out of control now…with classification seeming possible only to the most anal of New York pizzaphiles!

So ixnay on the assification-clay. To me, in all this pizza overkill, there is only one new pizza in New York that is sure to endure as a long-running New York classic: The Grandma Pizza, which swam into our ken about 15 years ago (though I ignorantly ignored it in THE ROSENGARTEN REPORT, because my ken was doing something else).

And I find most people outside of New York…not to mention many New Yorkers!…still don’t even know about it!!!

I’m writing this…because yoo godda knowaboudit!

Let’s hit the historical trail to set the scene. Back in the old country, grandmas and grandpas made a pizza in their home kitchens (some even in frying pans) that had a thin crust, just a little fresh tomato, just a little cheese. I’m not sure they had a name for it, other than “pizza.”

When pizza began its conquest of New York, around the turn of the 20th century, all the old Naples styles were converted into something that would work better in a New York pizzeria. This home-style pizza disappeared, even classic Naples pizza (small, runny, high crust) disappeared. What evolved was “New York pizza,” a big round that you could cut into 8 slices, much drier and more baked than true Naples pizza; all these factors made a New York “slice” easier to serve, carry and eat.

The one other pizza that in the 20th century joined the New York slice pie in pizzerias was the “Sicilian” pizza—a rectangular tray of pizza, thicker and usually slightly softer in its dough than the round one. There is an ancestor in Palermo for this kind of pie, but it ain’t exactly the same.

So…in New York…circa 1960…if you went into a pizzeria, you asked either for “pizza” (the big round one), or “Sicilian” (the thick rectangular one).

Then…possibly in the 1970s…pizza-makers on Long Island, as the story goes, started getting nostalgic. They longed for that simple home pie that their mothers or grandmothers had made. By all accounts, they started making, for themselves, a rectangular pie…that was much thinner than the standard Noo Yawk Sicilian pie. The tomatoes on it were fresher, sometimes raw, and the cheese was lighter. Someone started calling this neo-pie “Grandma Pizza,” after its origins in the Old Country—and it lay dormant among the pizza-making domestic cells of Long Island for a good ten years.

Then…someone (historical accounts differ, but credit often goes to King Umberto’s, in Elmont) put this thing on the menu. It took off…locally. For most of the 90s, it was strictly a Long Island thing, with maybe a foray or two into eastern Queens.

Today, in 2013…it is on its inexorable march west, and has spread much more widely. Sure, there are parts of New York City that still don’t have it…but there are many parts that do.

I find the Upper East Side, believe it or not, to be a new homeland for Grandma pizza. Why? Who knows? But do keep in mind that Grandma pizza is thinner, lighter, and fresher-tasting than other New York pies. Ya think thin, light and fresh might play on the Upper East Side?

I recently walked into two great and busy traditional pizzerias on the Upper East side…the kind that sell 1960s-style “slice” pizza…to learn what I could learn. And everything these two pizzeria owners told me fell easily into the “big” story.

Stephen Vanacore owns Mimi’s, on 84th St., a local pizzeria that has been going strong for over 50 years.

Stephen Vanacore, owner of Mimi's

Stephen Vanacore, Owner of Mimi’s

“Yeah, we make Grandma Pizza,” he told me. “But not all the time. Sometimes the spirit of my dad walks in, and we make it.”

Stephen’s dad Dominic, who died ten years ago, “used to make it for himself, no customers, starting about 25 years ago.” (Just as pizza scripture reads.) Then, 15 years ago, says Stephen, “Dad started to make it occasionally. He found that our customers liked it.”

“Any special prep tips?” I asked Stephen.

“I can tell you exactly how much thinner the Grandma’s dough is. We use 1½ balls of fresh dough to make a Sicilian pie…but only one ball of dough to make a Grandma, in the same pan.”

And…he added…”no long-cooked tomato sauce, as you’d have on a regular pie. Grandma gets only short-cooked marinara sauce, chunky.”

A little further down the avenue, at 70th Street, lies Mariella Pizza—a hotbed of Grandma! She is always on the counter as you walk in to the shop and, during lunch hour, fresh ones are constantly being churned out of the pizza oven.

Joe Cavaleri, co-owner of Mariella Pizza

Joe Cavaleri, co-owner of Mariella Pizza

“Mariella,” says Joe Cavaleri, “was the first one to sell Grandma pizza to the public, about 15 years ago.”

I knew that once there were nine Mariellas, so I asked which one debuted it.

“This one!,” said Cavaleri. “You’re standing in the place!” And the other Mariellas? “We are not part of a group any longer…so I don’t know!”

When I asked Cavaleri if the Grandma was a popular item, his response was kind of a classic “are yooo kidding me? Last night we delivered an order of 17 Grandmas to a party at Marymount College! People love it!”

Any secrets in the Mariella Grandma? “Oh yeah. We’re thin, like the others,” Cavaleri said. “But they all use oregano. We use basil—fresh, on top! Also, they all mix the oil and garlic into the tomatoes. We don’t. We spread the dough with oil and garlic, then put the tomatoes and cheese on top of that.”

And it is a beautiful thing to behold…

Grandma pizza with basil topping ready to go at Mariella

Grandma pizza with basil topping ready to go at Mariella

As you can see, it is not a muddle of cheese and tomato, as most regular New York pizzas are. The sauce—though not raw, and not chunky—is quickly cooked, and gets applied in discrete dabs (“just one or two dabs per slice,” Cavaleri points out.)

It is one of the factors that helps this pie feel…well…fresher and lighter! But I don’t think it takes a Bloomingdale’s credit card to love the Grandma.

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