The best pizza seems to be a transplant from Connecticut, which makes it okay even if it is in Texas now.
I'd eat at Corky's. My favorite was the pizza with the spinach topping, a perfect creation of thin, slightly charred crust, made-from-scratch sauce, whole-milk cheese, and fresh, oven-roasted spinach. From time to time I would ask the owner, Dominick (Nick) DiBattista, what his secret was. Something about the spices he used in his sauce. I didn't care really. I was young, hungry, and had a sewer commission to write about. Life was good.
Then it was over. One day in 1995, I made a pit stop on the way back home to New York from Boston. Corky's, named after Nick's father, was closed. There was a sign with a farewell message from Nick. He was off to Florida. Damn, I recall saying to myself on the drive home, I wish I'd gotten the recipe for that spinach pizza.
Over the past 15 years I'd think of Corky's from time to time, especially after eating another ordinary pizza. I was at Sally's in New Haven last fall, and it was still among the best I'd ever had. But I was still thinking about that spinach pizza and the little shop in East Hartford and wondering whatever became of that guy. Then, a few months back, for some reason after all these years I turned to my Mac and typed in the name "Corky's." As easy as that, I found a restaurant with that name in Arlington, Texas.
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