Staycation

It's Memorial Day weekend, the first getaway of summer, and most people treat this holiday weekend as the opening day of summer vacation. Fang and I are jetting off on a proper vacation in a week and half so we decided to stay in town this holiday weekend; in the current vernacular, this holiday we're going on staycation.

There's something rather desolate about Manhattan during a holiday weekend. While it's pleasant to ride the subway or go to the movies with fewer people clogging every square inch of personal space, a long weekend begs some kind of getaway. With our weekend chores completed on Friday night, today was wide open for any possibility. The plan was two-fold.

First we planned a visit to Westchester County. We are mulling over the notion of giving up the glamor of Manhattan living (and its associated costs/commute hell) for a quieter life in the suburbs. If it happens, it won't happen for another year or so, but we felt it was prudent to start to see where we might want to live. Commuter train service to Manhattan was critical; close proximity to Connecticut for my job was equally important. Westchester County has always appealed to me. The taxes are horrendous, but curiously, the housing prices are reasonable. For what we paid for our co-op in Manhattan, we could own a large house on half an acre of land. At last I could realize my dream of owning a riding lawn mower. I am drawn to the water so we began to examine areas near the Hudson River. Today we explored Sleep Hollow.

Sleepy Hollow is an old village slightly north of Tarrytown, NY. Established in 1640 it was made famous by Washington Irving with his tale of the Headless Horseman. The locals take Halloween very seriously. Overlooking the Hudson River, it was lush and bucolic and dotted with sprawling beautiful homes. I am smitten by this place. After roaming the neighborhoods of this charming little burg, we prowled through Tarrytown and visited a local lighthouse. As we stood at the banks of the Hudson in the distance we could see the towering edifices of Manhattan. They seemed very far away.

We would have lingered but we had another mission on the dockets today.

I am fanatical about good pizza. If it's not good at bite one, I won't waste the calories finishing it. For years I have heard legendary tales about the phenomenal pizza in New York. Those great pizzerias must be in Brooklyn because in all the years I have been in this region, I have yet to have a decent pie in New York. The crust is too thick or it tastes like cardboard. The sauce is bland or the mushrooms come from a can and taste like formaldehyde. There are hundreds of Famous Ray's in Manhattan and every one I've been to has been utterly lacking. I haven't had pizza in a long spell because I've simply given up the hope of finding one that enthralled.

A while back, I was talking to one of my foodie-homies. We discussed pizza and he mentioned Frank Pepe's in New Haven, CT. Not only was this the home of a classic Neapolitan style pie but they were famous for their white clam pizza. My heart soared. If you're going to have pizza, the creme de la creme has got to be a classic white clam. New Haven is a long ride but I've been known to go long distances for superior foodstuffs.

Before I undertook this voyage, I needed further validation. I asked another homie, a native of New Haven who shares my love of seafood pizza if the laurels were deserved. Oh yes, he confirmed in hushed tones. At Christmas he gave me a gift card for Frank Pepe's. That sealed the deal. I had to go.

So today after we left Westchester, we weaved through holiday traffic forging their way to Rhode Island and Cape Cod. We held off eating all day in order to fully appreciate the nuances of the Frank Pepe White Clam Pizza. After hours of artful traffic negotiation, we arrived in New Haven. Turning onto Wooster Street, we had arrived in Connecticut's version of Little Italy. We parked and behold, there it was: Frank Pepe's. Master of the Pizza since 1925. One of the traditions at Frank Pepe's is the wait. There is usually a line of people waiting outside the door for a table. We waited 34 minutes.

It was worth the wait. We ordered a classic clam pizza, half white and half red sauce. It was served bubbling hot and the crust was crispy and delicious. The pie was a riot of garlicky clam goodness. Even Fang was impressed.
It may not look like much here, people, but let me tell you how incredibly good this pizza was. It was sublime. Velvety and spicy and worth a 73.3 mile drive.

And to think, I have two more days free of my staycation left to enjoy. What shall I do?