I wish I had a slice of pepperoni for every time someone’s told me that their favorite pizza was the best in the city, whatever that city may be.
Palermo. Florence. Vancouver. Chicago Near North. Chicago South Side. Boston. And, this afternoon, Brooklyn.
Since I’m always happy to give the benefit of a doubt to the pizza lover in question, I’ve dutifully trotted along to more pizzerias than I could possibly count. 
Today, the pilgrimage took me to Grimaldi’s in the shade of the Brooklyn Bridge. Grimaldi’s is an institution that inspires great passion in the hearts of pizza lovers. It’s a proper sit-down joint, with red-checkered cloths on the tables and a hulking coal burning oven in the back. A large, hand-scribbled sign in the window proclaims “No Slices.”
When I arrived to meet friends at 12:30 p.m. (the restaurant opens at noon on Saturdays), there was already a line on the sidewalk of close to 100 people. A kindly old gent in a blue, button-down, Oxford cloth shirt (who looked like he should be hosting at an Irish pub instead of an Italian pizzeria) worked the line, asking each party the number of people.
Each group was taken in the order they stood in line. No special treatment. No shenanigans. Just quiet efficiency and not a peep of complaint out of the hungry faithful. We waited about an hour (fortunately there are couple massive trees in front providing shade).
The experience was well worth the wait.
Once seated, things move along fast at Grimaldi’s. This is not the place to sit and nurse a Negroni. You can order a glass of house red or white wine or one of seven bottled beers (all are $4), but you’d better be ready with your pizza order too. Servers are quick and efficient and in no mood for schmoozing.
It’s a pity the pace isn’t a bit slower, because the show in front of the pizza oven is spectacular. A cast of four or five guys do the duties, patting plump rounds of pizza dough (made daily on the premises), dusting them with flour, patting some more, stretching, twirling, caressing, smoothing, and finally, topping with ingredients.
Each time a worker is ready to pass the dough to the next “station” he tosses it through the air with the nonchalance and grace of Derek Jeter or Khalil Greene going for the easy double play.
Two other men are responsible for slipping the pies into the coal-burning oven. When they remove a pie, it’s shipped airmail over to the counter where it’s slid onto a dented metal pizza tray and delivered to the table.
I loved the pizza. Fans say its true beauty comes from the coal-burning oven. They scoff at modern day “brick ovens” which do not use coal and do not reach the 800 degrees of the coal oven.
Indeed, I found the crust to have a lovely smoky flavor and a distinctive crispness from the high heat. Moreover, there were a few tasty blackened spots on the bottom…another bonus of the oven, say die-hard Grimaldi lovers. The pizzas cook in just four or five minutes. (This photo comes from the pizza-loving website Slice.SeriousEats.com.)
The toppings are simple and top quality. Pepperoni, sausage and ham; onions, mushrooms, red peppers, black olives and sun-dried tomatoes. Capers and ricotta are the only remotely fancy additions. They're both delicious, the ricotta lending a lovely creaminess; the big fat capers adding tang and texture.
There’s also garlic and anchovies to punch up the flavor. “Extra basil” or “Extra mozzarella” will set you back two bucks. A large plain 18-inch pizza costs $14; each topping is $2.
Grimaldi’s is open daily for lunch and dinner. But don’t show up between 4 and 6 in the afternoon. That’s when the oven is “refreshed.”
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