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"@Petey: But Di Fara has a gas oven."

Oh, I know. But I think that's where the true magic of Dom lies. By sheer force of will, he conjures up coal tar where none otherwise exists.

"@ petey, California pizza? As a Californian, I'm not sure I get it."

"California Pizza" = more about creative toppings than about the pie.

Well, of course, real New Haven clam pies are delicious.

The weird 5 or 7 clam pies that have cropped up in NYC are less appealing.

"I'm still peeved at the SE/Slice software that spams links to even OUR OWN URLs! Just nudged that out."

Spam nightmares aside, I did think it was funny that the top Google result for "motorino brussels" was you, instead of being Yelp or Flickr or Motorino...

"I'm still a bit confused as far as using canned tomatoes for pizza sauce. Do you use just the tomatoes, or are you supposed to blend the juice/puree into the sauce?"

Neither. You merely wave unopened cans of San Marzano D.O.P. tomatoes near the pie, and then you get this. Quantum physics and the volcanic soil makes it happen.

"Of course, all of this certification rests on the notion that DOP tomatoes truly are superior in flavor and cooking results to similar tomatoes grown elsewhere or marketed under different names."

Well, sorta.

San Marzano D.O.P. lets you know you're tomatoes have been grown in a particular volcanic ash soil that has a good tomato reputation.

Tomatoes are like wine grapes in that particular pieces of terra are thought to make a difference.

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Interestingly, it would seem easier to replicate Parmigiano-Reggiano in New Jersey than it would San Marzano D.O.P. tomatoes.

If you wanted to replicate Parmigiano-Reggiano in New Jersey, you could just feed the cows the same thing, and follow all the same procedures, and theoretically, you could end up with something identical to Parmigiano-Reggiano.

But you couldn't really replicate San Marzano D.O.P. tomatoes in New Jersey, since you wouldn't have the right soil.

For a year, part-time, during college.

These two hippy-ish Italian-American guys opened up a pizzeria to serve mostly the college kids while smoking a lot of pot.

My friend was an amateur baker, and he liked to get high, so he ended up hanging out with the pizzaiolos, and baking pies for them part-time. I was his friend, and I liked to get high, so I ended up hanging out with the pizzaiolos, and delivering pies for them part-time.

It was a wonderful experience. It was in the wilds of Connecticut, on the fringes of the New Haven pizza-sphere, so they made crazy claim pies and white pies. And it was a laid back environment where I got to sneak behind the counter and play with the dough and the oven.

"On the sustainability of the Eataly concept ... I just hope that they can maintain the very high level that I experienced there."

See, that's the brilliance of Di Fara's, and why it's earned its cult status:

Dom just shows up every day and works.

Pizza is not about opening night. Pizza is about a life.

(And that's why Anthony Mangieri is a stand-up guy. I was never crazy about UPN - I thought it was good, but not great. But when Mangieri got tired of it, he just shut it down. He didn't sell the name to the new owners. He didn't franchise. Pizza is about pizzaiolos, not about businessmen.)

I normally employ the traditional six step process:

1) Wrap each slice separately in parchment paper.

2) Tie string around the paper to seal each slice. (You can tie either a knot or bow. But remember: if you use a knot, you'll have to have scissors around to cut the string when it's time to unwrap the slice.)

3) Bury all separately wrapped slices together in one freshly dug hole in your backyard. A hole 6 - 8 feet deep is what you're looking for here. (I know some folks insist you need a separate hole for each slice, but that's pure overkill.)

4) Gently refill the hole with dirt. If you do this too quickly or too roughly, you really can negatively affect the process.

5) Plant alfalfa sprouts on the surface of the refilled hole. This is the key step to the entire process, and folks who skip it never understand why their pizza doesn't taste quite right later. While the sprouts won't grow very much overnight, the additional nitrogen they provide to the soil underneath is what makes the whole thing work.

6) When hungry, simply carefully dig up the slices, and eat. Voila.

However, when I'm stuck in the city without a backyard, I instead just toss the whole pizza box in the fridge overnight.

"And while I'm getting the square, I'll try the anchovy."

Actually, if it's simply 'flavor explosion' that you're after, their arugula pie might be an even better bet than the anchovy. The prosciutto and parm help hit all flavor corners.

"@petey: Just found this exchange between us from October 2008. Broken record, I am."

Yeah. You've definitely grappled with the question before. It just always confuses me.

They're an odd duck in the NYC pizza scene. They're not artisanal and they're not historical. But they've got a kickass oven and they use kickass ingredients.

"And, yes, Luzzo partisans, it even blows away—especially blows away—Luzzo's, whose popularity among Slice readers I have never understood."

What's up with the rampant hating on Luzzo's, Adam? I can understand if you don't think it's the number one pie in town, but how can a pizza lover not appreciate what they're cranking out?

(And it's not a rhetorical question. Write a post explaining your anti-Luzzo's stance sometime. I'd actually be curious to read it.)