It’s only a matter of time before pizza pilgrims come to Beddia for advice. I watch as he grabs a ball of portioned dough. It breathes and hisses. It’s alive. “A great dough makes a great pizza,” Beddia says. “That’s why half my day is spent making it.” He stretches it into shape between his hands before adding the pie’s other elements. His tomato sauce couldn’t be simpler: raw, crushed, canned New Jersey tomatoes, sea salt, and garlic. He ladles six ounces of sauce onto the dough, spreading it in a spiral. Then he adds both fresh and aged mozzarellas. Next come the toppings: house-made pork sausage, roasted onions, crimini mushrooms, and arugula. All classic. All simple. As Beddia puts it, “I’m not putting f*#%ing apples on my pizza.”
There’s something else you won’t find at his pizzeria. Beddia skipped the wood-fired oven—standard at today’s hip pizza spots—in favor of a gas Montague deck oven. What it lacks in romance it makes up for in control. “It produces a real dry heat that I prefer,” Beddia says. “Plus, there’s a bit more room for error.” So unlike Neapolitan-style pies that cook for a few minutes at upward of 900 degrees, Beddia’s pizzas bake at 600 degrees for ten minutes. The result is a well-done pie, crispy on the bottom, soft but not watery on the top, with deep charring along the crust’s edge. That blistered, blackened crust has become a signature for Beddia. It’s not something you leave on your plate. When he cuts the pies into eight slices, you hear the crackle and the crunch. “That’s a good sound,” he says.
And then comes the final touch, the seasoning. Beddia sprinkles a pinch of dried oregano and then shaves Old Gold cheese—more than you think he should—over the top. Made at nearby Hidden Hills Dairy, the cheese is like an aged Gouda, and it gives the pizza a rich, mouthwatering bite. Finally, he pours extra-virgin olive oil over the pie in a spiral from a long, thin-spouted dispenser. He learned the extra cheese and oil finishing moves from watching DeMarco up in Brooklyn. Then it’s time to make another pizza, the same exact way. Repeat ad infinitum—or at least until the dough runs out.
Dining and Cooking