Saturday was our last night in West Palm Beach, Florida. Drew had attended meetings for three days, while I had . . . not. I spent my time on the beach, with a book in one hand and bottled water in the other, soaking in the 82-degree warmth. Retirement is a wonderful thing!
With meetings and beach time over, we walked the length of Clematis Street, the "historical heart of Downtown West Palm Beach," looking for a place to eat. Fire Rock, Grease Burger Bar and Rocco's Tacos were filled with loud music and crowded tables, so we walked further down the street, toward the Intercoastal Waterway.
The line outside the front door was a sure sign that the wait would be worth it; and it was.
As soon as walked in, we saw the pizza makers at work, surrounded by mounds of fresh Parmesan and mozzarella, jars of "secret-ingredient" sauce, and more toppings than we could try in many return visits. The place was packed with three floors of enthusiastic, Brooklyn-accented pizza lovers!
Had we never been to the Brooklyn Grimaldi's, the West Palm Beach version would still have offered great pizza with a reminiscent flavor of New York. But having experienced the real thing, Drew and I knew what was missing.
self portrait
With meetings and beach time over, we walked the length of Clematis Street, the "historical heart of Downtown West Palm Beach," looking for a place to eat. Fire Rock, Grease Burger Bar and Rocco's Tacos were filled with loud music and crowded tables, so we walked further down the street, toward the Intercoastal Waterway.
We saw a sign that looked familiar - New York familiar. Grimaldi's Pizza! Who knew that there was another, besides the original, the one under the Brooklyn Bridge. (It turns out there are over 20 throughout the U.S., even locations in Queens, Hoboken and Coney Island.)
We had eaten at the Brooklyn Grimaldi's a couple of weeks ago when our daughter, Katherine, her husband, Andy and his brother, Chris, were visiting.
The line outside the front door was a sure sign that the wait would be worth it; and it was.
As soon as walked in, we saw the pizza makers at work, surrounded by mounds of fresh Parmesan and mozzarella, jars of "secret-ingredient" sauce, and more toppings than we could try in many return visits. The place was packed with three floors of enthusiastic, Brooklyn-accented pizza lovers!
There was no line outside the West Palm Beach Grimaldi's. The waiter said, "Pick any table," as we walked in. Frank Sinatra sang in the background, glossy NYC landmarks lined the walls, even our neighborhood subway sign hung over the bar. . all attempts to create an authentic New York City atmosphere. But the place lacked something.
It certainly wasn't the pizza! Our sun-dried tomato, pepperoni, kalamata olive, thin crust pizza was equal, in every way, to its "Just Like Under the Brooklyn Bridge" cousin. We finished off all but two pieces of a large, plus a slice of New York cheesecake.
Had we never been to the Brooklyn Grimaldi's, the West Palm Beach version would still have offered great pizza with a reminiscent flavor of New York. But having experienced the real thing, Drew and I knew what was missing.
A dash
of New York City
Soul.
of New York City
Soul.
Can't wait to try this pizza place. Nice poem. It goes well with a story about pizza as it sounds like you're adding the missing cooking ingredient :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks! Either walking across the Brooklyn Bridge or taking a water ferry are fun ways to get there.
DeleteGrimaldi's! You made it thru the line! Looks delish!
ReplyDeleteNext time you come to NYC, we'll brave the line. The atmosphere and pizza are SO worth it!
ReplyDelete