I finally got to try Frank Pepe's a while back, having never visited New England before at all, so it was also my introduction to New Haven style, period.
I'd previously thought the idea of a "tomato pie"—just sauce with a little parmesan, no other cheese, no toppings really—seemed kinda crazy. Like, I was willing to try it, since that's one of a couple "classic" pies in the style, and it's well-regarded, so I figured I must be wrong, but I couldn't reckon how that'd work out well.
It all came down to the quality of the sauce, and mostly to the quality of the tomatoes. And boy was I wrong. That sauce was absolutely enough to hold up an entire pizza (almost) on its own. I mean, damn. I've made some excellent sauces from home-grown San Marzanos (I know, I know, I don't have the volcanic soil or whatever, but they were good) but this was next-level. So much complexity when, as far as I could tell, there was hardly anything in the sauce other than the tomatoes.
I'd previously thought the idea of a "tomato pie"—just sauce with a little parmesan, no other cheese, no toppings really—seemed kinda crazy. Like, I was willing to try it, since that's one of a couple "classic" pies in the style, and it's well-regarded, so I figured I must be wrong, but I couldn't reckon how that'd work out well.
It all came down to the quality of the sauce, and mostly to the quality of the tomatoes. And boy was I wrong. That sauce was absolutely enough to hold up an entire pizza (almost) on its own. I mean, damn. I've made some excellent sauces from home-grown San Marzanos (I know, I know, I don't have the volcanic soil or whatever, but they were good) but this was next-level. So much complexity when, as far as I could tell, there was hardly anything in the sauce other than the tomatoes.