I have no patience. When I pass by the lines snaking out of DUMBO's famous Grimaldi's Pizzeria, I just keep on walking.
Their 'za is wonderful -- but my time is worth more than a slice or even a whole pie.
So, I was hopeful when Ignazio's opened its doors to offer a bit of brick-oven competition. And, as it happens, I wandered in one day with a friend and her two-year old daughter, famished and in need of a respite.
At that moment Iganzio's was perfect.
There were seats available. It had air conditioning. And, most importantly, the little girl -- mesmerized by the live jazz band -- ceased whining.
By the time the pizza arrived, we attacked. It seemed to be one of the most glorious pizzas I'd ever devoured. I promised that I would be back. Back soon.
Plus, besides the lack of lines, they had a serious advantage over Grimaldi's: delivery.
I kept thinking about that pie. I finally succumbed to its memory one evening with a pal in from out of town. Sitting in my apartment with a salad and the requisite bottle of vino, I called and placed an order.
Above is a snapshot of the pretty pie we received 20 minutes later, scattered with fresh basil and bubbly cheese.
It looked good. It tasted good. But just good. Not great. Clearly the mind has a way of playing tricks on you. Even on your tastebuds.
Nonetheless, I live in Brooklyn. I demand great when it comes to my pizza, beer, bagels and much, much more.
Suddenly that line at Grimaldi's isn't looking so long after all.