Grimaldi's Pizza in My Mouth: What took me so long?

Like I said, in my mouth
I can proudly say I've been a New Yorker for 7 years, yet in the same breath, I can ashamedly say that until a week ago, I had never, in all that time, had a slice of the famed Grimaldi's pizza in DUMBO. And it wasn't because the line stretches around the corner at all hours. And it wasn't because I was a Manhattanite that dare not trek all the way to Brooklyn, let alone for a pie (they don't do slices, not to mention reservations, delivery, nor credit cards). And it wasn't because I don't love a great pizza. Honestly, it was because, well...I never really got around to it.

As a New Yorker, one has a laundry list of things one MUST experience (damn cultural guilt), which somehow continues to grow exponentially every day. It is our responsibility, after all, to take advantage of all that is placed at our finger tips, yes? This overload of stimuli is what attracts some and, at the same time, deflects others, from this little big city. (I am of the former breed, if you couldn't tell already.)

Short 'n' simple menu
Thus, how appropriate that after living in "the city" (Manhattan, for those not familiar with the elitist lingo) for 7 years, it is when I become a Brooklynite (can I call myself that after moving there just under a month ago? I say yes.) - it is when this happens that I finally sink my teeth into that doughy goodness that is Grimaldi's. Consequently, it doesn't hurt that it's a 10-minute walk from my door to theirs.

Now I am one that is consistently critical of hype and hoopla, especially when it concerns food. (Insert my eye roll here, thinking of my wasted time in dramatic lines at Magnolia's for an awful cupcake and Shake Shack for an "eh, I've had better" burger.)

However, Grimaldi's does not fall into this overrated category of food expereince. On the contrary, it's probably better than you can ever imagine. And do you want to hear the kicker? I did not even have to wait in line! (Gasp. I know, the envy is nearly palpable.) I must have gone at one of those extremely rare off-peak hours/minutes/seconds and my eager, hungry party of three strolled right in to a table by the window. I'm fearful to divulge what day and time this was, as I do not want to lose my edge. But, okay, twist my arm. It was a Saturday evening post-10 pm.

The not-so-regular Regular demonstrating the gooey goodness that is fresh mozzarella
A pipin' hot White with the toppings of our choice
My insert-to-mouth view. This guy didn't last too long, poor thing.
To make a long story short (as I now have an official craving and we know delivery is not an option) it was the best damn pizza I've ever had. We ordered two pies, naturally, to try their two different types: Regular, which comes with saucy crushed tomatoes, mozzarella, and fresh basil; and White, which simply boasts extra mozzarella, garlic, and fresh basil (sans sauce, hence, white). To the regular we added onions, and to the white, ham and mushrooms. Excellent additions if I do say so myself. If I had one criticism, it would be that they skimped on the fresh basil, of which I can't get enough. Nonetheless, each pie was deliciously unique, tapping into two completely different palates. I could not decide which to savor as my last bite. I think I may have shoved both into my mouth at the same time; it's only fair.
With the perfect balance of flavor (thanks to fresh ingredients), the perfect pizza crust (doughy and bubbly with the slightest crunch), and the perfect company (my two favs: my mama and m'lady), I left an overly satisfied customer, ready to do it again...and wait in line a million times over.

The damage has been done. Not too shabby for three little ladies.

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