Fall zah at the Beach

Grant is holding it down in exploratory fashion while I’ve been grabbing late night mediocre slices around the ward, Pizza Tonight at Ellwoods on a whim, and a steady work diet at 8 1/2.

A lazy day this weekend ended me at the Hunt Club farm for some animal petting and hayrides with a buddies family. Beautiful fall weather and a relaxed afternoon called for some family zah. We passed up whatever bowling alley trash they were serving at the festival and opted for a long time local favorite. YNOT rarely disappoints. Make sure to dine in or pick up for maximum satisfaction.

Occupy my belly, Wall Street

I don’t have the urge to turn this blog into a political commentary but I will say that I’m stoked that a large number of disgruntled Americans have grown some balls and are doing something about this unfortunately situation we’re all in.

I made my way down to Zuccotti park to take some pictures and mingle with those that are gnarly enough to put themselves in pig’s grasp.  I met a small group that flew in from Arizona (who are dealing with their own pig terror) who had been staking out Wall St. for weeks.  They didn’t look like dirty hippies either.  Nice, well informed people with phone numbers written on their arms in faded Sharpie, numbers for the National Lawyers Guild.

The Zuccotti park camp is amazingly well organized.  Equipped with trash bins, recycling bins, sanitation stations, women’s hygiene areas and a nice spread of food donated by some very generous folks.  Everything beamed joy, compassion, hard work and generosity.  It was funny to hear a couple volunteers arguing about how much water they had purchased, and how much of it would be appropriated for the coffee.  There is a lot more work involved in this shit than most people imagine.

I was also lucky enough to get a slice of pizza.  From whence it came I have no clue, but it was a pretty damn tasty slice.

Reminded me of many a Mary Angela’s slice I’ve had.  Heavy, wet, too much cheese.  The crust on this trumps that shit Richmond chain any day, but the sloppy form on this took me back home for a minute.  It was nice.

Valley Stream, Long Island

There are a few things in New York that had long since disappeared before I got here.  Most of the cool shit I read about as a young hesher living in the 2nd floor of my parents’ very-middle class, suburban home in Virginia Beach has vanished.  The famous L’Amour rock club in Brooklyn is gone.  Slipped Disc, the record store that every metal band I liked went to for meet ‘n greets, signing sessions, is gone.  CBGB’s never stood a chance.  And I barely got a fighting chance to visit Mars Bar before it had been demolished along with the plethora of band logos, swastikas and ignorant filth that was carved shamelessly into their bar top.

It seems like everything I wanted to like about New York was taken away before I could muster up the courage to move here, or rather be snatched up here by some selfish, rich bitch.  I still would like to see these things, where they once stood.  Feel the ground upon which heavy metal legends like Lemmy, Kirk, Bruce, Rob and Randy once stomped on.  Where millions of kids looked to spend their allowance on the imported version of The Ritual, where local bands like Cyanide Breed would pedal their product and begin to make a name for themselves before moving on to Revocation or Ramming Speed.

I recently got a chance to head to Valley Stream, Long Island, where the legendary Slipped Disc record store once stood.  I find it utterly bizarre that Metallica would venture all the way out to this tiny, miserable looking town to sign records for fans.  Valley Stream is a good New York hour long drive from any venue in Brooklyn or Manhattan that they’d probably be playing at.  That tells you how important this store must have been to the scene back then.  The decline of the music industry led Mike Schutzman to close up shop in 2008.  It sickens me to see what is sitting in the place of an iconic, unique record shop that still used hand written receipts for their sales.

This post isn’t so much about pizza as it is about my frustrations with the world, with people in general.  This is now home to this.  What the fuck!?

I met a nice girl who happened to be from VS.  She was stunned that I’d even heard of the place, but I’d like to think that most metal heads know of the town, or at least the record haven that it accompanied.  She was even more stunned that I knew a few more odd details about the town, mostly because during the early part of the last decade, my High School years, I was tape trading (a term I still like to use when swapping CDs and mp3s) with a group of like minded kids in Valley Stream.  They all lived in Valley Stream and I kept in touch with them for years.  Two brothers formed a band called Cyanide Breed and I kept track of all their demos, their shows, the progress of their first offical release, ect ect.  They were a kick ass melodic death metal band with a ton of thrash and black metal influences.  The singer went on to join Ramming Speed in Boston and the others I completely lost track of.

I told this girl to show me some pizza in the area, something that she would eat with her friends while getting stoned in her Toyota on a school night.  That place was Eddie’s.

It looks like any other boring, lifeless suburban sports bar.  The neon glow of Bud signs blind your eyes and draw you in like a moth.  The faint cheers of an unknown crowd and the verbose commentary of a baseball announcer filling the gaps between the spats of the patrons and clanking of glasses.  Apparently they have pretty awesome bar pizza and I love bar pies.

Uber thin is about the only phrase I could find for this stuff.  Not much else happening here.  Tasted like a fucking Tombstone (which isn’t bad!) but thinner than papyrus.  The cheap pepperoni really threw me off on this one but you can get a 10″ bar pie like this for about eight bucks.  Not a bad deal.

Next we head to the legendary Slipped Disc.  As we drive down Rockaway Ave., she cries out in disgust at what she sees.

You’ve gotta be kidding me.  THIS is what’s wrong with you people.  You’d rather come in here, sip on some generic latte, fill your face with cream cheese and listen to bad poetry on Tuesday nights?  Faith in humanity is waning fast and I’ve got to get out!  Beam me up!

Apparently the Slipped Disc owner is letting, ahem, Sip…This, sell some memorabilia.  I begrudgingly handed over my money because I knew this wouldn’t last forever.

Day 13

Great looking slice, eh?  You could almost hold this thing up at the very end and it would lay horizontal with no drooping.  Unfortunately the flavors just arent’ all here.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great slice but it looks better than it actually is.  The cheese is a very oily kind of mozz and the sauce is a little too sweet for my liking.  I feel like they may have cooked the sauce for too long.

If you should find yourself near the Graham Ave. stop on the L-train and you’re looking for a slice, I would tell you to go no further than Carmine’s.  $2.50 for a plain ain’t bad and they have a shit-ton of other slices as well.

Day 12, Cannabis Corpse and a Plain Slice

After seeing Cannabis Corpse at the Knitting Factory and forgoing All Shall Perish and Black Dahlia Murder, I hopped across the street to Mariella’s II and grabbed a plain slice.  Doctored up with garlic salt, oregano and parm, it ain’t half bad.  But for $2.75 this slice should taste much better.  I’d rank it down there with a good manhattan dollar slice.

Pick up Cannabis Corpse’s new album, “Beneath the Grow Lights Thou Shalt Rise.”

Click That Shit

Every Day a Pizza

Sunday Night meltdown

Took the day off from pizza, but I’ll let this one count.

Smart Pidgeon

Pizza month continued

Luigi’s on 88th and 1st Ave.  My favorite slice around this shitty, rich neighborhood.  The picture of consistency, always crisp and ready to go.  Well balanced flavors so that no one ingredient is thrown off, although I do tend to apply copious amounts of oregano and parmesan.

3rd Annual Brooklyn Bacon Takedown

FUCKKKKK this looks awesome.  Favorite pizza topping, guanciale!

Pizza month continued…

Been eating your daily slices?  I have.  Check out the latest and greatest.

Go! 99 pizza

And a fucking expensive night out at Roberta’s with my best buds.

This is the R.P.S.  Dunno what it stands for but the pie was pretty decent.  Not crazy about the toppings but god damn they know how to cook.  Also tried the Banana Hammock and Ben seemed satisfied with my go-to vegetarian recommendation:  Classic Margherita with capers.  A nod to Belly Timber for getting me on the caper train.

Pamparius Bros. in Brooklyn

Andy is up here on a business venture and aside from him hanging out with Susie Esman he made some time to grab a couple slices with me.

We met up at Ben’s new bike shop, Brooklyn Bike & Board (or Brooklyn Smörgåsbord) and we strolled down Vanderbilt in search of a decent slice option.  We found Amorina’s just two blocks south and stepped inside to order two slices of this stuff with a San Pelle for $6.  Andy got shafted on his slices but mine turned out great.  All around crispy, chewy on the inside with some stretchy cheese and a well balanced sauce.

Check it out fools!