I was in my kitchen washing dishes and all of a sudden I thought, “I want pizza.” Then specifically, “I want to go to Di Fara.” “Maybe I’ll make pizza soon but I want to go to Di Fara.” Then the very next moment I got a text from my friend/sister/former wife, Shino. It was a link that said “Domenico ‘Dom’ De Marco, founder of legendary Di Fara Pizza, has died…”. Her next texts were, “let’s pray for his soul and spirit.”
I began to cry. I’m crying now as I write this. I can say I met a master in my life because I met Dom. Anybody who knows me knows pizza is one of my favorite things in the world and Di Fara is my favorite pizza, period.
I remember the first time I had it. It was a summer day in Brooklyn and Shino and I were out at Coney Island with our bikes enjoying the day. She suggested that we go to her favorite pizza place for dinner. It was the best, she said. I was skeptical because in my mind the best pizza place was Ray’s on 6th Ave in the Village, but I agreed to go anyway. We got to a nondescript corner in Midwood on Avenue J and ordered some pizza from the window. I can’t remember if we ordered a pie or slices but I think it was a pie. Then we waited. We WAITED and waited as this old man stood hunched over making pie after pie, pouring on the olive oil, cutting the basil by hand, just taking his time and enjoying every minute of it. Almost two hours had passed by the time our order was ready. Finally I was going to see what this pizza was all about. Then I took my first bite. It was like the heavens opened up and I saw what was possible with pizza. EVERYTHING. The flavor of that pizza, the cheese, the sauce, the crust, the OIL was unlike anything I’d ever eaten. I lost my mind. How had I gone all this time without having this treasure? Shino said I looked like “a little baby having birthday cake for the first time.” I believe her.
You have to understand, this pizza shifted things in my life. I suddenly became a snob. I would go to Di Fara as often as I could, trying out the round and square pies to learn the differences in texture. I would watch Dom as he made the pies trying to pick up every step he took. I even drizzle olive oil at the end of my pies in a circular motion like him now. I went so much, his sons who often ran the shop knew my name and knew my order. They remembered to change the cutter for me (even when I forgot) so I didn’t have any pepperoni bits in my pizza. I also built a rapport with his daughter, Maggie. In short, I found my pizza home.
When I traveled to Italy for the first time, the first place I went to when I returned to NY was Di Fara. Even after ALL of that delicious pizza in Rome and Florence, I had to go home. When my friend’s and I started a Pizza Club our first stop was Di Fara. I was so proud to bring everyone there.
I would stand there waiting for my order watching Dom doing what he loved and taking his time doing it. Every once in a while he would throw me a wink and it would make my day. Watching him take pies out of the oven with his bare hands left me in awe. Watching his children take care of everything else so he could focus on what he loved again showed me what was possible when you find your path.
As years went by things began to change. Shino and I got divorced, Dom started ending his shifts earlier letting his son’s finish off the evening pies, and eventually he finally retired. I would go there still supporting, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in the back but he wasn’t around much anymore. In the early days I would go in the back to use the restroom and I might catch Dom taking a moment to rest while drinking a glass of wine, and that’s how I’ll remember him. At ease, taking his time, enjoying his life. We should all be so lucky.
May Domenico ‘Dom’ De Marco, be embraced and lifted up by his ancestors. May his children find comfort in knowing that their father was a true master and that he continues to be loved around the world for the food he made with his hands and offered for us to enjoy at $5 a slice. May we all embrace his example of finding what you love to do, and doing it for the rest of your life. I’m gonna go now and make some pizza, and their might be some tears mixed in with the sauce, and that’s okay.
I am so so grateful for this man. I’m so grateful to Shino for introducing me to him and for the most of the photos in this post. And I’m grateful to everyone who ever went with me to Di Fara and gave me the opportunity to share something I really love. We give thanks and look forward to that first pie in the ancestral plane. I wonder how long the wait will be.
