Lost City Asks "Who Goes to Sam's?"

Been to Sam's a number of times over the years. Finally wrote it up for "Who Goes There?" Nice shot of the pizza oven. I've never been inside the kitchen.

Who Goes There? Sam's Restaurant

To eat at Sam's is to know Louis Migliaccio. Louis is the waiter, bartender, sometime cook and chief bottle washer at this Court Street institution, and the son of Mario Migliaccio, who has made pizzas at this timeless, basement-level, red-and-white-checked-tablecloth joint for sixty years, and is or is not retired now, depending on what article you read.

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The Torch Is Passed at Sam's Restaurant

A sea change has quietly taken place at Sam's Restaurant, the 79-year-old Cobble Hill staple (it was South Brooklyn when it began business) that serves pizza some say is as good as Grimaldi's or Di Fara's, in a time capsule space complete with red leather booths and checkered tablecloths.

For nearly 60 years, the pies here have been hand made by Mario Migliaccio, who emigrated to the U.S. from Italy when he was 22 and Truman was President. He's put in less and less time in the last couple years, as he got older, coming in just a few hours a day. But he never retired, and never stopped making pizzas.

Last month, Mr. Migliaccio's wife passed away. The pizzeria was closed for a few days. And today, June 8, the old pizzaiolo hung up his apron for good. In classic New York Italian-American immigrant fashion, he is flying back to his home land—specifically, a house he had long been building for himself on his birthplace, a small island near Ischia, an island north of Capri, in the Gulf of Naples.

Taking his place in the running of Sam's will be his son, Louis, a familiar face to Sam's regulars. No need to worry: the place isn't going anywhere, and Louis doesn't plan to change a thing.

81-year-old Mario Magliaccio was one of Brooklyn's master pizza makers, but few knew it. He kept to himself and didn't court publicity the way some other old pizzerias did. For that, you have to admire his integrity and modesty. At Sam's, making good, simple food didn't qualify the owners for any special genuflection; it was a matter of course.

(Photo courtesy of Slice)

Sam Knows Heroes

Sam's, the old-time Cobble Hill Italian place, is known for its coal-fired pizza. But some time ago, a foodie friend who knows his stuff recommended I stroll in some afternoon and get one of their heroes to go.

I finally got around to it yesterday, walking through the front and back rooms of the empty eatery to the small window, by a small cash register, that looks into the kitchen. I ordered a meatball hero. It took ten minutes. They wrapped it up beautifully is white paper and tin foil. I would have stayed hot for an hour if I had had somewhere to go. But I didn't. So I ate it right outside, on the sidewalk.

My friend was right. It put the crunchy, tough, chewy heroes you get at most pizzerias to shame. The bread was soft and fresh, the meatballs inside it moist and delicate, the sauce savory and not too spicy. Most heroes are heavy and sink like a rock to the bottom of your gut. This one was airy and light. (The picture above does not do it justice.) I had no trouble eating the whole thing in one sitting.

The next day I went back and order a sausage Parmesan hero and took the time to observe how they did it. The key seems to be that they treat the roll and the filling as two separate dishes which should be prepared differently. The filling goes in the pizza oven to heat, while the bread is placed just outside the oven, where it gets warm. The bread is later placed in the oven for a short time to develop a light crisp. Most hero places put the filling on the bread and then heat the whole thing together for about 10 minutes, rendering the roll horribly hard and crusty.

After the roll is taken out, sauce is spread in thin layers on either side of the loaf. The sausage is the put in carefully, bit by bit. I also noticed that they slice the sausage lengthwise, in thin strips, thus avoiding the big, unmanageable chunks that sometimes get in the way of eating a hero.

Sam's is going to have a hard time getting me to order a pizza from now on.

Lost City's Guide to Cobble Hill

To many, the realtor-hatched neighborhood names of Cobble Hill and Carroll Gardens mean little. "What's the difference? It's all South Brooklyn in the end." Indeed, the nabes are so small and so close together, they might as well be categorized under one name. Still, over the years, I've discerned enough differences between the two areas that I think they deserve separate handles. Cobble Hill is tonier, its average street more architecturally beautiful; Carroll Gardens a bit more scruffy, closer to the highways and the docks. CG retains a stronger ethnic, Italian-American edge, while CH is more blandly heterogeneous. And CG, in my opinion, has more mercantile personality than CG, which just has, you know, a lot of nice shops.

Another way of saying that is there's just not as much living history on hand in Cobble Hill. Still, the area is a joy to walk through and there's enough to talk about. And so I will, in this, Lost City's fourth such guide to New York neighborhoods.

FORMER INDEPENDENCE BANK: Let's start on Court Street, Cobble Hill's main artery, as it is Carroll Gardens'. At the corner of Court and Atlantic is the former Independence Bank, now a Trader Joe's. Take a look, because the 1922 building, with its mighty white bricks and mightier arched windows, is impressive—but also because of the plaque honoring George Washington outside. Want to know why it's called Cobble Hill? Because a conical hill topped with a fort once stood roughly on this spot. Washington used it to spy the approaching British and watch his forces duke it out in nearby Gowanus. The British didn't like that. When they got here, they razed the hill to the ground. Thus, Cobble Hill has no hill.


METROPOLITAN ROD AND GUN CLUB: Take a brief detour to the right on Pacific Street. The name of this institution itself screams 19th century. Actually, the club was incorporated only in 1934. They bought the Pacific Street building in 1939. Inside, you'll find an indoor pistol and smallbore rifle range and archery range.

STAUBITZ MARKET: Back to Court. This butcher, the last holdout of what used to be a strong German enclave, has been near Warren Street since 1917. The McFadden family, which has owned the business for more than 40 years, has retained the old time feel of the place, and sells about every kind of meat you can think of. It—along with the 1960-founded PAISANOS MEAT MARKET a block over on Smith Street—are the last, best butchers in the area.

JIM & ANDY'S: An old-school green grocer, run by a family whose patriarch used to help sell vegetables from a horse-drawn cart and who recently died. Wall-to-wall produce, Sinatra on the radio, a big metal scale, paper bags, vague prices. Nice place.


SAM'S PIZZERIA: An old family eatery near Kane Street with faded decor and peculiar ways. Don't tell them how to serve you, they're going to do it their way regardless. The old man of the family still makes the pizzas, as he has done for the last 58 years. There's a wooden phone booth that doesn't work and a cocktail menu that apparently does. It's never busy.

KANE STREET SYNAGOGUE: As you pass Kane Street, glance to the right. The somewhat drab, but still majestic building on the south side of the street is the Kane Street Synagogue. It's real name is Baith Israel-Anshei Emeth, but no one really calls it that. At 152 years, it is the oldest Jewish congregation that still serves the Brooklyn neighborhood in which it was founded. The congregation has been in the current building since 1905, and was for a while called the Harrison Street Synagogue, during those early years when Kane Street was Harrison Street. The edifice was built in 1855 as a Middle Reformed Protestant Dutch Church. Aaron Copland had his Bar Mitzvah here in 1913.

COURT PASTRY SHOP: Some think this bakery near Degraw makes the best Italian pastries in the area. I'll vouch for the Svingi, apple turnovers and the unshowy, timeless interior. Anytime a Catholic holiday is on the way, look for specialized cakes and treats.

DEGRAW STREET FIREHOUSE: Walk east of Degraw a hundred feet and see the defunct Engine 204, which was shut down by the City amid much protest in 2003. It's a beautiful 19th-century structure, redolent of the days when firehouses were more private men's clubs than public institutions.

THE STREETS: Almost any block in Cobble Hill—which runs from Atlantic up north to Degraw in the south, and Smith Street at the western point to the BQE—is gorgeous. The trees are tall and old. Most of the brownstones have been well kept up, and were handsome to begin with. Churches, small and grand and old, pop up regularly. The grid is nicely interrupted by picturesque one-block streets like Strong Place (rich people), Tompkins Place (more rich people) and Cheever Place (some rich and some oldtimers). There are good patches of old bluestone left on the ground. The run up Clinton Street from Degraw to Atlantic always lifts my spirits. Try it on a bike; there's a lane.

CHRIST CHURCH: At the corner of Clinton and Kane is a Gothic masterpiece built in 1840 by Richard Upjohn, the guy who did Trinity Church across the river. The Upjohns lived nearby and were congregants. There are Tiffany windows inside, though it's hard to tell them apart from the fakes put in after a fire in 1939. Take a look.

CONVENT WALL: Turn left on Kane and walk to Henry. Lining this corner is a particularly ancient-looking wall, covered with wines, crumbling and with a metal door near the center. If it seems out of place, it's because the convent it once encircled is now gone. The Nursing Sisters of the Sick Poor order was started in France. They left sometime before the 1960s.


COBBLE HILL PARK: Thank tenacious residents that the church that used to stand on Clinton between Congress Street and Verandah Place wasn't replaced by a supermarket. If it had, we wouldn't have this lovely vest-pocket park, which—combined with the quaint nearby corner coffee shop and Verandah's exquisite alley of former carriage houses—has the quiet elegance of a piece of Parisian urban greenery. It's easy to forget that you work and have bills here.

DEGRAW MANSION: Walk further up Clinton to the southeast corner of Clinton and Amity. Freestanding homes are rare in South Brooklyn. You had to be super rich to demand an unattached swelling. The Degraws were and they lived here at 219 Clinton. It was built in 1844, and was later home to the first private elevator in all of Brooklyn. As recently as 1988, the house had had only three owners. Don't know if that's still the case.

LICH BUILDINGS: Walk west over to Henry Street. Long Island College Hospital has been busy lately trying to knock down or sell off all its magnificent old buildings. They're still stubbornly hanging on, though, including the 105-year-old Lamm Institute building at 110 Amity Street and the Pholemus building across the street. Gaze while you can.

WARREN PLACE: Walk west on Warren. Don't walk too fast, though. You'll miss the tiny, gated Warren Place on the left, a narrow alley of miniature brick "Workingman's Cottages." They were built by Alfred Treadway White, the 19th-century developer-with-a-soul, who thought laborers should live in dignity. A more beautiful mews you won't find. They go for millions there days. The gate's usually open. Go in and walk around. Just do it quietly.


TOWER BUILDINGS AND HOME BUILDINGS: Two magnificent, and magnificently red apartment complexes overlooking the BQE. They were built as tenements by that self-same White. Everything about the sturdy, yet appealing architecture is wonderful, from the outside recessed apartment entrances to the peekaboo stairwells to the castle-like turrets.

LONG ISLAND RESTAURANT: Walk back to Henry and up to Atlantic. The Long Island Restaurant at this corner hasn't been open for a year and a half. But it remains as is inside and the distinctive neon sign still hangs over the street. Gaze inside and sigh at the half-century old mainstay that has been lost.

ORIENTAL PASTRY AND GROCERY: Walk east on Atlantic to this small, crowded shop, one of the better exemplars of Middle Eastern foodstuffs on this avenue. Sacks of nuts, dried fruit, spices, everything. Sweets are in the back and worth sampling, including various pistachio and honey-based goodies. You can find a good many treasures here, if you know where to look.

LOST CITY'S GUIDE TO THE LOWER EAST SIDE
LOST CITY'S GUIDE TO CARROLL GARDENS
LOST CITY'S GUIDE TO TIMES SQUARE

Two Examples of Attitude, Sam's Style

Sam's restaurant and pizzeria on Court Street in Cobble Hill has been around long enough that it's comfortable telling its customers where to get off. Here are a few of the joint's cozy signs designed to preempt various patron questions and demands. The top sign on the front door's a bit of a conundrum, you have to admit. I get what they're after, basically: The bathrooms are for customers only. But why is the "L" capitalized? And what's with "First"? Pay $2 first, and then you can use the toilet? Also, $2 seems like a random amount. Well, it's this sort of quirk that makes old places like Sam's worth one's while.

Had a pie at Sam's recently, and have to put a word in for one of the more undersung pizzas in Brooklyn. Cheesier than most, but with a good crust and tangy sauce. An honest pie. The 81-year-old man known as "Sam" still makes every single one, a la the tradition of Di Fara's Dom DeMarco. He's done so for 57 years.

Where Cocktail Hour Never Ended

There's been a lot of talk in recent years about the rebirth of cocktail culture. But a perusal of some menus in town lets you know that, for some places and for some people, the previous cocktail era never really died.

Take the menu at Sam's Pizzeria on Court Street in Brooklyn. It looks relatively unchanged since the 1960s. And right there at the top is a selection of twenty or more cocktails for purchase. All the one-time classics are here. Not just the Martini and Manhattan, but the Side Car, Rob Roy, Pink Lady, Black Russian, Stinger, Rusty Nail and Singapore Sling. Even a Sloe Gin Fizz.

Now, if you order one of these, there's no telling what kind of drink you'll get. It will probably be mixed up by the guy who just put your pizza in the oven, after all. But the prices are right. $6.50 across the board. The same drink cost double at any place in Manhattan. The only deviation: a regular Martini is $6.25; an "extra dry" Martini is $6.50.

My advice? Splurge for the extra quarter to ensure you're getting at least a 2 to 1 ratio on the gin and vermouth. Live a little.

Wooden Phone Booth Sighting: Sam's

They don't work, but they're there.

These wooden phone booths are in Sam's, the old time pizzeria on Court Street near Kane. It's one of the last holdouts of the old Italian neighborhood. The pizza's pretty good, the service a bit huffy and eccentric. There are red leather booths and you can get a Rob Roy.

As far as I known, these are the only extant wooden phone booths left in Cobble Hill/Carroll Gardens. Please let me know if I'm missing any.

Past articles:
Wooden Phone Booth Sighting: Chumley's