It is a sad sad day!
I feel terrible to have found out so late after the fact, but an old friend and great pizza maker, Sal Malanga died back in 2009.
I remember going to Sal's back when it was on 95th and Broadway next to the Symphony Space. It was a good time in life. I grew up on Sal's pizza. My mom started taking me there since the early 70's and then when I got older, my friends and I would go over to Sal's for our pizza fix. Back then, the Upper West Side wasn't the way it is today. There were no Starbucks, trendy overpriced diners and restaurants, and it was not a cultural hub. It was populated by newly arrived immigrants and their upcoming 1st generation offspring, poor families, rent controlled tenants, and the undesirable. Back then, the real slums were north of 96th Street. We were only a couple of blocks away and the physical boundary was not that defined.
Things didn't cost as much as they do today. With a $1 you could buy a $.50 plain cheese slice, a $.25 soda, and a $.25 Marino's italian ice. I must have been in that tiny shop about 2-3 times a week easily. We were the young and coming neighborhood knuckle-heads at a time when there were feuding neighborhood gangs and crack was gaining in popularity. Luckily, we were all too young to hang with the older gang bangers, who ended up landing themselves in jail after a brawl with a rival gang in Central Park. As a result, we all managed to stay out of any real trouble.
In the winter, we used to go into Sal's for pizza, and linger to talk to see who was gonna crack Sal. He was never a chatty man, but once he warmed up to you, he was really a nice man. There were even times we got a free slice or italian ice if we promised to get out of his hair. Every once in a while, very rarely I might add, if Sal could not make it in, you would see his brother Carmine at the helm, but for the most part, Sal was always front and center.
Sal's pizza had a special thin crust, which was crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside. His cheese was unlike any other pizza shop I had tasted then and honestly, unlike any I have tasted since. Sal lovingly flung and tossed each floured dough ball he took out the fridge from those round nesting metal bowls and then cut each one with his handy dough cutter with the white handle. He spent a good 5 minutes just working the dough to get it to the perfect thickness so it could to bake to perfection. When he was finished, he would scrape the counter with the dough cutter to collect all the excess left behind. It wasn't a saucy pizza, but it didn't need to be. The magic was all in the dough and THAT cheese.
One day, Sal told us they would be moving further uptown. We were devastated. 102nd was within walking distance, but it wasn't just the fact we could still go up there and eat his famous slices, but we were feeling the loss of a trusted friend and surrogate father. During that time, a lot of my friends moved away, and it seemed like I was the only one left from the old gang. It was as if one chapter was closing and another was just beginning. I made a handful of pilgrimages over to the new location, but it wasn't quite the same. The restaurant had been renamed and now Carmine was a lot more visible. The pizza was still the same...yummy as ever, but as much as I had loved Sal's pizza itself, it was the feel of the old shop I missed and my long-gone friends. It was my first lesson that everything in life is constantly in flux.
I moved out of the old neighborhood 12 years ago. It makes me sad to go back sometimes since it has changed so dramatically and it reminds me of my long deceased mother who remained there until the end of her days. All the old mom and pop shops are gone. I am always in a hurry, and I never manage to remember to go back up to Sal's. I felt terrible to find out Sal had passed and that I had not had a chance to take my children there for a taste of my roots.
I found a link to a site reporting that the shop on 102nd had closed due to bad health inspections. I am hoping this was simply a temporary set back and that everything has been set straight since. I would hate for a fine NY institution like Sal's Pizza to have met such a tragic closing of its doors, and for the legacy of a hard-working and legendary old man dating all the way back to 1959 to have been dishonored in the end.
I feel terrible to have found out so late after the fact, but an old friend and great pizza maker, Sal Malanga died back in 2009.
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| Picture by David Wharton |
Things didn't cost as much as they do today. With a $1 you could buy a $.50 plain cheese slice, a $.25 soda, and a $.25 Marino's italian ice. I must have been in that tiny shop about 2-3 times a week easily. We were the young and coming neighborhood knuckle-heads at a time when there were feuding neighborhood gangs and crack was gaining in popularity. Luckily, we were all too young to hang with the older gang bangers, who ended up landing themselves in jail after a brawl with a rival gang in Central Park. As a result, we all managed to stay out of any real trouble.
In the winter, we used to go into Sal's for pizza, and linger to talk to see who was gonna crack Sal. He was never a chatty man, but once he warmed up to you, he was really a nice man. There were even times we got a free slice or italian ice if we promised to get out of his hair. Every once in a while, very rarely I might add, if Sal could not make it in, you would see his brother Carmine at the helm, but for the most part, Sal was always front and center.
Sal's younger brother Carmine
Sal's pizza had a special thin crust, which was crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside. His cheese was unlike any other pizza shop I had tasted then and honestly, unlike any I have tasted since. Sal lovingly flung and tossed each floured dough ball he took out the fridge from those round nesting metal bowls and then cut each one with his handy dough cutter with the white handle. He spent a good 5 minutes just working the dough to get it to the perfect thickness so it could to bake to perfection. When he was finished, he would scrape the counter with the dough cutter to collect all the excess left behind. It wasn't a saucy pizza, but it didn't need to be. The magic was all in the dough and THAT cheese.
One day, Sal told us they would be moving further uptown. We were devastated. 102nd was within walking distance, but it wasn't just the fact we could still go up there and eat his famous slices, but we were feeling the loss of a trusted friend and surrogate father. During that time, a lot of my friends moved away, and it seemed like I was the only one left from the old gang. It was as if one chapter was closing and another was just beginning. I made a handful of pilgrimages over to the new location, but it wasn't quite the same. The restaurant had been renamed and now Carmine was a lot more visible. The pizza was still the same...yummy as ever, but as much as I had loved Sal's pizza itself, it was the feel of the old shop I missed and my long-gone friends. It was my first lesson that everything in life is constantly in flux.
I moved out of the old neighborhood 12 years ago. It makes me sad to go back sometimes since it has changed so dramatically and it reminds me of my long deceased mother who remained there until the end of her days. All the old mom and pop shops are gone. I am always in a hurry, and I never manage to remember to go back up to Sal's. I felt terrible to find out Sal had passed and that I had not had a chance to take my children there for a taste of my roots.
I found a link to a site reporting that the shop on 102nd had closed due to bad health inspections. I am hoping this was simply a temporary set back and that everything has been set straight since. I would hate for a fine NY institution like Sal's Pizza to have met such a tragic closing of its doors, and for the legacy of a hard-working and legendary old man dating all the way back to 1959 to have been dishonored in the end.
UPDATE: I just called (212) 663-7651 and was informed Sal's is still very much open and they close nightly at 10:00 pm...what a relief! I am definitely taking my kids there VERY soon.
EVEN MORE CURRENT UPDATE: Took the kids over to Sal's. My little one ate 2 whole slices, even the crust. The pizza was still the same; magical, and I got to tell my kids all about the history of the place and its owners. It was a really nice experience!
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