Once when I was at Brooklyn College, Borough President Marty Markowitz said to us in a speech, “Once a Brooklynite, always a Brooklynite!” I decided to take him at his word, especially since, at that point, I knew that I’d soon be leaving Brooklyn for Florida, which left me with mixed emotions. Once Brooklyn is in your soul, it’s a hard place to get rid of.
One reason is the Brooklyn Bridge. Another is the pizza. Manhattanites, I won’t get into a Grimaldi’s vs. Lombardi’s debate with you … as far as I’m concerned, it’s all the best. Hand-tossed, thin crust, wood fire oven, fresh mozzarella, thin layer of tomato sauce, big pieces of real basil and honest to god hunks of sausage. That’s a pizza.
Now, Sydney does many kinds of food brilliantly. You’d be hard pressed to find a city with more variety; so, I’m not talking badly when I say that pizza is not one of Australia’s specialties.
But let’s not waste time talking about what’s wrong when I can cut to the chase and tell you what’s right.
After a long quest for pizza even a Brooklynite (that’s me!) could love, I found the shining holy grail of mamma-mia goodness in a tiny shop in Darlinghurst called Lucio’s.
There are maybe 9 tables, most of them outside, and the wait is typically about 45 minutes if you don’t get there at opening. The waiters are all dreamy Italians who say “per la signora?“. I swoon and pretend that I didn’t understand what they said.
All of the pizzas on the menu are pretty standard fare, and the ones I’ve tried have been superbo. The pui grande of the pizzas, though, is the Lucio.
It’s half margherita/half fluffy, warm ricotta calzone, and all kinds of pizza-rific goodness. There is absolutely nothing not to like here.
I want to sing “O Sole Mio” whenever I think about Lucio’s. I don’t need to tell you anymore, except to say that this pizza would sell in Brooklyn. And I know – I’m a Brooklynite.