Dom De Marco’s lives up to the hype
To say that Dom De Marco’s opened amid some hype would be like saying that Barack Obama and Mitt Romney would both kind of like to be president.
The hype started well before it opened. I heard about Dom De Marco’s from one of our sportswriters (a proud son of Brooklyn). I heard about it from a guy on whose radio show I was a guest. I heard about it from a number of foodie friends. I’m pretty sure I even heard about it from my dentist, although maybe that’s apocryphal. But they all had the same firm contention: This place is gonna be great, because its roots are in Di Fara Pizza, a Brooklyn legend.
And OK, I don’t know about you, but I’m not a big fan of hype, which usually is inversely proportionate to quality. Plus, fine traditions have an uncanny way of being besmirched in this country; Italy, Schmitaly. So, when some very mixed reports started trickling in from friends and co-workers, I was confident my hype-o-meter had been vindicated once again. When President Obama’s peeps ordered a bunch of pizzas during one of his visits, I almost felt sorry for those poor slobs, so susceptible to a snow job.
Then I finally made it in to eat – and found that, for one of the few times in the history of the world, the hype had been absolutely, positively justified. The place is indeed great.
First there’s the fact that it’s a pizzeria with a pizzeria menu, but with enough imaginative starters and salads to keep things interesting. The Eggplant Pizzettes ($9), for example, was three thin discs of breaded and fried eggplant, resting on a splash of marinara, each topped with a dab of whipped ricotta and a jaunty (and flavorful) basil leaf. Simple – almost minimalist – and a lovely way to start dinner.
We would have to have pizza, of course. Our server, when asked, told us that the Di Fara Special ($26 for a whole pie, $17 for a half) was the signature pizza. That made sense in view of the name, but we like thick pizza, so it made sense on a personal level as well.
And, good heavens. The crust was very crisp on the outside – with some of the light charring some people have complained about but that I find appealing – and whisper-light on the inside, a fantastic juxtaposition of textures in the same crust. The “red pie” was topped with hand-cut pepperoni, which didn’t seem like a big deal until it dawned on me that meant that some slices were thin and some thicker, so some were crisper than others, which was another nice interplay of textures. And with a blend of cheeses and basil, it was the best pizza I’ve had in a very long time. Even the half-pie was a big one (it wasn’t mentioned on the menu, but was offered by our server) and the leftovers weren’t there when I went searching at breakfast time.
My own grandmother was known for stretching strudel dough over her dining-room table, not for marinara, but I have an appreciation for good grandmother food of all types, so Gram’s Spaghetti & Meatballs ($14) was a no-brainer. The beef, pork and veal meatballs were just a tiny bit dry – maybe in part because the latter two are a lot leaner than they were in Gram’s time – but wonderfully flavored and textured, the pasta perfectly al dente, the sauce benefiting from long hours on a stove.
And let’s talk about that sauce. Dom De Marco’s menu notes that it uses San Marzano tomatoes on all of its pizzas and in Gram’s Spaghetti & Meatballs, and yeah, the difference is always noticeable. They’re more tomato-y than other tomatoes, less acidic and sweeter. I found myself wondering if I can grow them in my backyard.
Service throughout was fine, our server a beginner but charmingly upfront about that fact, and when she stumbled a bit with the corkscrew, a co-worker was standing by to help. I always love to see good training.
I liked the atmosphere, too. The napkins are red-and-white checked but the kitsch ends there; just about everything else is sleek, with lots of dark wood.
On the first evening we tried to visit Dom De Marco’s, it was filled up with political types there for an event for Dean Heller. That was irritating, because it meant we had to come back another night. But then I remembered the Obama pizza run.
How often do the Democrats and the Republicans agree on anything?
Contact reporter Heidi Knapp Rinella at hrinella@
reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0474.