This is how I know that pizza is really good: I can’t stop eating it.
Long after my hunger has abated, on into satiety and then discomfort, I continue eating. Others have ceased and desisted. Not me. I am embarrassing myself. Then, too, the pizza is now cold. The cheese has congealed and the sauce is more of a tomato jam. I am not finished.
That was the scene at Grimaldi’s in Garden City. This is one of Long Island’s classic coal-oven pizzerias, and last night it did that venerable tradition proud. The dense little meatballs on one of our pizzas weren’t worthy of it and so I concentrated my efforts on the other, generously, almost lavishly topped with chopped tomato and fresh mozzarella that would sink a lesser crust. But Grimaldi’s rose to the challenge.
Eating a good pizza, I am lulled into a state of uncharacteristic benevolence. It didn’t bother me that the Caesar salad was overdressed. Or that my Shiraz was merely OK. Everything was beautiful.
Grimaldi’s is at 980 Franklin Ave. Garden City 516-294-6565.