Pizza in the far east

I finally got around to visiting Roberta’s, one of New York’s most hip pizza joints.  They’ve won michelin stars and plenty of awards but the thing that had kept me away until now was their location in the far east.  Not Asia; just Bushwick, but as a Manhattanite I can rarely be arsed to journey out into the boroughs.  Nevertheless my sister wanted to go, so I made the schlep.

The weirdest thing was that, as I stepped off of the subway, it was quiet.  I walked and criss-crossed a few streets without any risk of becoming roadkill.  People were scarce.  There wasn’t even any crazies.  I passed a hipster bar and it was calm and inviting.  The whole neighbourhood felt so … livable.

Roberta’s was very un-restaurantey and more like a patchwork of half-buildings and shipping containers with wooden or concrete walls connecting them all.  Nothing was uniform or smooth.  It really felt like a lunch party in somebody’s backyard, squeezed between other peoples’ backyards.  I suspect that this mish-mash approach is what makes it so cool for the hipsters.  I didn’t mind, but I was there for the pizzas, which were damn good.  The 4 of us had to perform many subtle negotiations to share the pizzas fairly and get our teeth into what we wanted most.  We ate our fill and still could have taken half of it home but we just couldn’t stop.

To top the night off, we shared a pint of Ben & Jerry’s on a park bench with 1 spoon, then watched an indie movie at the Nighthawk.  This was probably my most Brooklyn encounter ever.  I might start growing a man bun.

Roberta’s –


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