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Delancey: A Man, a Woman, a Restaurant, a Marriage Delancey: A Man, a Woman, a Restaurant, a Marriage by Molly Wizenberg
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“The square pizza at Di Fara is a complex, multi-step thing: a 1/2-inch-thick crust pressed out into a pan, topped with a long-simmered San Marzano tomato sauce, slices of fresh mozzarella cut from a fist-sized ball, slices of aged mozzarella, grated Parmigiano-Reggiano or Grana Padano that he feeds through a hand-cranked grater as he goes, plenty of olive oil poured from a copper jug, and fresh herbs snipped with scissors. It’s sort of like focaccia—focaccia that oozes so much cheese and tomato that you need a knife, a fork, and three napkins to eat it.”
Molly Wizenberg, Delancey: A Man, a Woman, a Restaurant, a Marriage
“While I sobbed into the greens, I wondered how Brandon, standing a few feet away at the pizza oven, could handle the onslaught of tickets. Answer: he's an East Coaster. In a pinch, he has access to such concepts as 'Fuck 'em', and 'Let 'em wait', and 'I'm working as fast as I can here.' I am a people-pleaser from Oklahoma, where life is placid enough that it's considered song-worthy to watch a hawk making lazy circles in the sky.”
Molly Wizenberg, Delancey: A Man, a Woman, a Restaurant, a Marriage
“Why make things complicated when it's hard enough to do simple things well. 159”
Molly Wizenberg, Delancey: A Man, a Woman, a Restaurant, a Marriage
“If a man can’t build a violin, he might as well make pizzas in a former violin shop.”
Molly Wizenberg, Delancey: A Man, a Woman, a Restaurant, a Marriage