Pizza, Coney Island and a Big Black Nose

Hot dogs for lunch and pizza for dinner? How much better can it get? And not only hot dogs but Nathan's Famous hot dogs for lunch AT Coney Island, and not just "pizza" but PIZZA -- maybe the best there is, at Di Fara's in Brooklyn.

It's sad but probably true that one of the reasons the pizza tastes so good is you have to work so hard to get it. Every pizza that has come out of Di Fara's for the last 41 years has been made by one man -- Domenico DeMarco.



He's got a small nondescript pizza shop on a corner in Midwood, Brooklyn, with the Q train elevated rumbling by outside and Jacob's Kosher Bakery across the street. Four pizza ovens raise the heat inside the shop and Mr. DeMarco has a box to stand on so he can reach the top oven. The shop fills up with the smell of fresh basil and singed crust every time he opens one of the ovens and reaches his bare arms into them to pull out a round or square pizza. He's 74 years old and slight, he's got gray hair and a nice smile and his English consists of "who gotta gah-lic?" or "t'ank a you."



He slaps the pizza on the counter, tosses more cheese on the top and then snips fresh basil all over it with a scissor. Toppings are minimal. And the pies are expensive!-- $25 for a large margherita (just cheese and basil, the garlic and pepperoni are extra) and, get this, $5 for a slice! $5 bucks for a slice!



And that's not all. The pizzeria doesn't open until 6:30 for dinner. You line up on the street under the overhang of the 99 Cent Store next door to keep out of the rain until the lady who will take your order really does push open the door, and then you walk in, place your order and sit down to wait, with a lot of other people. Maybe you order one of those slices. Or two. Or three. DAMN! that is good pizza!



Why is it so good? Plotnik can't tell you but he can tell you this: it is as good or better than any he's ever had. It puts Grimaldi's to shame, is 'way better than any he's ever had in Manhattan and his and Duck's favorite pizzas in Shmalifornia (Pazzia in Saint P. and Casabianca in S. City) are only imitations. The crust is kind of black around the edge but that makes it even tastier (except for the part you can't eat) and maybe the Italian 0.0 flour and special mozzarella really do make a difference.

And you really do have to love the I Love The Pope cards on the old cash register.



But Plotnik thinks it's just Mr. DeMarco. When he's gone, Di Fara's is done. The man seems to be making a fortune but he can't last forever. You'd better just drive down there and get in line.

Oh -- the Nathan's Famous Hot Dogs aren't much anymore. And all the rides are Closed Until March 28. Wait a minute, it's April 21st. Too bad, still closed.



Poor old Coney Island looks like hell but the memory is still alive in anyone who knew it once. Ducknik grew up going to Coney Island and has 'way fonder memories than Plotnik does, but she and Plottie rode the Cyclone and ate Hot Dogs together down there when they first met -- probably in 1969 or 1970. It was sketchy then too but got worse. Now they say there is about to be a rebound. It has to happen. The beach is too nice. Getting there on the subway is so easy. How can this place not thrive? It doesn't make sense.



Plot, Duck, 5Head and BBone spent a lot of time yesterday sitting near the water, listening to music and dancing on the boardwalk. When the weather is nice it's hard not to love Coney Island. And the area is depressed. And it's a subway ride away from everything. If Plotnik was planning to move back to The Apple, Coney is where he would look to buy.






But then they were back in Clinton Hill. Plotnik took Mischief out for a walk and a lady yelled at him for letting Mischief lie on the grass.

"This is a private apartment," she said.

"This is a dog and this is grass," said Plotnik. "What's the problem?"

"Yaddayaddayadda" she yelled, but Plotnik had already tuned her out. He scratched Mischief's nose. He wasn't listening either. It's really easy to get back in NY Mode.