More frequently than I wish, something absolutely delicious that I want to share with you simply doesn’t photograph as appetizingly as I would hope. Sometimes, I have to make a judgment as to whether the photograph is just going make everyone want to turn the page. But then there are dishes like this one; such a flavor hit that I don’t want you to miss it, even if it isn’t the most photogenic.
An homage to CO. and DiPalo Dairy Store in Little Italy
It’s great to live in a city where you can still shop in a traditional Italian cheese and dairy store that’s 99 years old and just expanded into the space next door. That’s quite an accomplishment given that New York’s Little Italy is fast contracting and is now cheek to cheek with an ever-enlarging Chinatown. But Louis DiPalo continues his family’s almost century-long run at DiPalo Dairy at 200 Grand Street, (212-226-1033).
Now I won’t say this place actually reminded me of my old haunts in Rome which were more Salumerias than Dairy outposts. But it is exclusively Italian down to the Illy coffee that was being sampled along with rounds of Gran Padano, that cousin of Parmigiano that’s grainier and less well known. DiPalo continues that wonderful Italian tradition of letting you sample virtually everything you buy.
We were treated to paper thin slices of prosciutto that literally melted in our mouths and we got to taste our cheeses. The cheese selection at DiPalo is fantastic and I think, well priced. I got Pecorino Romano for $12.00 a pound and Gran Padano was on offer at 11.99. Then there was, at 7.99 for 500 grams or 1.1 lbs., the all-important Stracciatella, yet another cousin, this time of mozzarella, that’s the basis for my homage to Co., the new pizza place at 230 Ninth Avenue and 24th Street (212-243-1105).
And there’s also a little nod (in the use of the prosciutto) to the spectacular “Parma” pizza at World Pie, 2402 Main Street in Bridgehampton (631 537 7999), which is one of our all-time favorites.
We are in full pizza mode in New York at this point. It’s one of the most frequent of foody discussions and pizza practitioners have amped up their offerings and, more often than not, thinned out their crusts to a point where one wag described them as communion-wafer thin.