Only Three People Know the Recipe for Joe's Superette's Prosciutto Balls

A couple years ago, I rejoiced at finding the storied prosciutto balls, once made at the Carroll Gardens institution Joe's Superette, at a Soho pizzeria called Prince Street Pizza. Louie, who used to make the balls at Joe's (which closed in 2011 and is still sorely missed), was behind the counter.

However, in December 2013, I got a message from Louis' brother saying that Louis had left the pizzeria in late 2012 and the prosciutto balls were not longer to be found there. 

Now, a couple days ago, I received this comment from "Frankie," the nephew of Leo Coldonato, the owner of Joe's and the inventor of the taste treat. He wrote, with a detectable sadness between the lines:

Hopefully one day I can bring my uncles prosciutto balls back to Brooklyn where they belong. You can count the number of people who know us real recipe on one hand, and have fingers left over. Besides myself and Louie, I only know one other person who knows his real recipe. Like I said, hopefully one day I can bring them back to where they belong.

Esposito Pork Store Picks Up the Slack for Joe's Superette

I noticed this sign in the window of Esposito Pork Store on Court Street in Brooklyn the other day. It hadn't been there before. Obviously, the butcher is trying to fill in the prosciutto ball hole left in Carroll Gardens by the closure of Joe's Superette in spring 2011. The neighborhood institution was known citywide for the excellence of its prosciutto balls. Sure, those balls are now being made at Prince Street Pizza by an ex-employee of Joe's. But a Brooklynite doesn't want to have to have himself to SoHo every time he wants a deep-fried, hammy, cheesy treat. I haven't tried Esposito's prosciutto balls, but I plan to soon.

Meanwhile, here's what the former site of Joe's looks like now. The letters on the great old sign were taken away by relatives of the former owner, I was told. The space will be a Greek restaurant when it reopens. The renovation has revealed bit of very old brick, steel pillars and tin ceilings.

Joe's Superette's Prosciutto Balls Found

I'd heard scuttlebutt and seen Internet reports that the famous prosciutto balls of the shuttered Joe's Superette were being made at a Soho pizzeria called Prince Street Pizza. I've been in deep mourning ever since that low profile Carroll Gardens institution closed last year. So I was curious.

I didn't manage to get to the pizzeria until a few weeks ago. I saw prosciutto balls on the menu on the wall. And when I saw a laminated New York Times article about Joe's (below) on the counter, I was hopeful. But it wasn't until I saw Louie—looking straight-jacketed in an official Prince Street Pizza polo and baseball cap—that I knew it was all true. Louie was the guy who made the balls at Joe's, taking over the duties after his boss Leo Coldonato—the inventor of the delectable treats—got sick.

I had a true Brooklyn encounter with Louie. I greeted him, told him I used to go to Joe's a lot, and had heard the balls had migrated there. He didn't betray a glimmer of recognition or gratitude; just shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't remember you," and walked away.

I ordered a batch of prosciutto balls. They were as I remember. Yet, somehow different. Bigger, and richer with ricotta. I recall eating six very easily at Joe's. Here, four of the balls nearly overwhelmed my senses. Still, very good. Though not exactly the same.

I also learned a bit of Joe's history from Louis. I always assumed that Joe's closed because Leo died. That's not exactly true. Louie said he closed because the landlord hiked the rent, indicating he would have continued on if the rent had stayed the same. He also said a Greek restaurant was going into the space.

Joe's Superette Sign Deconstructed

Before it disappears forever—as it most certainly will—let's take a close look at the sign for the recently closed Carroll Gardens deli Joe's Superette. For it is an irreplaceable piece of New York memorabilia.

First: "Joe's." Joe was the man who founded the deli, back in the 1950s. No one I have met knows Joe's last name. I'm assuming he was of Italian descent. Before opening up his own place, he worked as Pete's Grocery, which was down the block. He retired in 1985 and sold the store to Leo Coladonato, who ran it until his death earlier this month.

Next: "Superette." This is a term that has largely fallen out of favor. But back in the day, what we know called a Convenience Store or Mini-Mart was called a Superette. It's a contraction of "Supermarket" and the suffix "ette," meaning a smaller version of a supermarket. It came into usage in the 1930s, the same decade that saw the spread of supermarkets, self-service mega-stores that offered a wide variety of foodstuffs (and scared the bejesus out of tiny butchers, bakers and grocers). One has to imagine that Joe was being a little grand about his tiny shop when he called it a superette.

According to a cousin of mine who is schooled in fonts, the interesting white lettering falls into a general category know as "Tuscan." Which makes sense.

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Memories of Joe's S Perette

I used to live on Carroll Street, between Smith and Hoyt. That's right around the corner from Joe's Superette, the deli which closed forever last week after a half a century in business. I was at that address for seven years. And for a few of those years, I would pass right by Joe's nearly every day. I always used to call it "Joe's Perette," because the sign was missing the "U" and it looked like it would never be repaired. (It never was.) It seemed the grubbiest sort of business. The windows went unwashed. The items on the poorly stocked shelves were covered with dust. And there was never anyone in there.

At one point, someone told me the place actually made good sandwiches. So, during a day at home, I braved the place for lunch. It was a died-in-the-wool Italian neighborhood joint. I expected to be intimidated and unwelcomed. But the man behind the counter took my order matter-of-factly, and went about slicing the meats and cheeses I requested for my sandwich. He wasn't exactly warm and friendly, but neither was he cold and forbidding.

This, I later learned, was Leo Coladonato, the owner. He had been an employee for many years, but bought the business when Joe retired in 1985. The most remarkable thing about Leo, at first glance, was his moustache. A real soup-strainer. Thick, reddish and bushy, of a style that had gone out of fashion a century before. (That is, before hipsters and bartenders recently brought it back.) Leo always dressed in a too-small, colored t-shirt, a pack of cigarettes stuffed in the front pocket. Along the edges of the refrigerated cabinets behind the counter he had scotch-taped photos of his family and children.

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The Saddest News in Forever

Joe's Superette, a historic pillar of the Carroll Gardens Italian-American culinary history, is closing. Unbelievable and unbelievably heartbreaking.

Here's the whole, horrible story from Pardon Me for Asking:

The old fashioned deli at 349 Smith Street between Carroll and 2nd Street is closing its doors after more than 50 years. The original owner, Joe, for whom the deli was named, ran the place with his wife and daughter for decades. They did all the cooking out of the relatively small kitchen in the back. When Joe was ready to retire, he sold the business to one of his employees, Leo Coladonato. Leo knew the store and its customers well. One could say that he had grown up there. He had started working for Joe when he was just a kid, delivering orders. As he became older, he made his way behind the counter, slicing cold-cuts and making sandwiches.

When he took over the business in 1985, Leo kept the name and the old "Joe's Superette" sign, so everyone continued calling it Joe's. All through the 1980's and 90's, there were long lines in front of Joe's at lunchtime. Though customers loved the overstuffed sandwiches, they really came for those famous prosciutto balls that Leo made in the small kitchen in the back of the store. Deep-fried to golden perfection, the gooey, cheesy bites of breaded ricotta, mozzarella and ham were there reason why people came to this place from all over Brooklyn. They were simply heavenly. Sadly, Leo has had health issues in reason months. Louie, who has worked for Leo for a few years, has kept things going in the store. However, the decision has been made to close Joe's Superette. The store is being emptied right now.

I have eaten those prosciutto balls a hundred times. Every time, they have been phenomenal. There's just nothing like them. They're Italy-good. Not just Italian-American good. They're that fantastic. I loved them so much, when I did my walking tours, I bought a couple dozen and fed them to my fellow walkers. I doubt anyone in New York can replicate them.

I will write a longer, more detailed tribute later. Too sad right now. Couldn't they have given us a week's warning, so we could have had just one more bite?