Finding Bruno's

Aside from unlimited cans of Fresca, bottomless bowls of cereal, carte blanche access to a gassed-up car, and impeccable laundry service so willfully rendered by my awesome “Ma”, a weekend at my parent’s North Jersey suburban sanctuary is a reliable reminder that when it comes to food (nevermind everything else), the Garden State doesn’t fool around.

Miles away...from the canorous clanking of 4 AM garbage pick-up; from the daily macadam minefield of discarded pizza crust, oily paper plates, and scattered falafel shrapnel, from the haphazard assortment of tattered trash bags unremorsefully hemorrhaging non-biodegradable rubbish all over the street…rests a world marked by true culinary greatness…a world known simply as New Jersey.

After two years in Chicago, where I lived, worked, and constantly defended New Jersey, (no, not “Joisey” ), I am relieved to be back on the East coast, where “Taylor” is brand of devilishly sweet and salty processed pork product, not a male name for some bigorexic Big 10-touting meathead. Prouder than ever of my Jersey roots, I am glad to now be far away from the miasma of Midwestern myopia that compels hypocritical Chicagoans to tell landfill jokes, practice snidely saying, “Yo, Ma!” , and asking me if my father is in the mob by day, before heading out for a night of drunken 3am singalongs at a bar blasting epic rock anthems by who else but Jersey Gods Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen. The irony here is heavier than a plate of Fries with Mozzarel and Gravy from Versailles Diner, but then again, “Timbo” from Orland Park wouldn’t know anything about that. He'd probably order the french toast (which is quite good at Versailles by the way.)

But I’ll save my acrimonious analysis of all things Midwestern for another time as I write to you today with the intentions of highlighting one of New Jersey’s greatest culinary offerings…Pizza.

Historically overshadowed by epic New York City players, Lombardi’s, Ray’s, and John’s, New Jersey boasts a vibrant pizza scene that rivals New York’s any day of the week. Be it the old-school charm of Spirito’s in Elizabeth, the no-frills presentation at Bevacqua’s Reservoir Tavern in Parsippany, or the 70’s warmth of shore staple Vic’s in Bradley Beach, top-quality, insanely good pizza pie can be found in just about every corner of this great state.

That said, having just logged my 1 zillionith visit over this past Easter, I can finally take the opportunity to tell you about a place that has had a grip on my pizza-eating heart for years now, embodying the true greatness of the New Jersey pizza experience. I speak, of course, of Bruno’s.

About 15 miles west of Midtown, you’ll find this hidden gem tucked away in an aging strip mall along a relentlessly busy strip of Route 46 in Clifton. I was first introduced to this wonderful purveyor of pie during my teenage years, by a good friend of mine who happens to go by the name “Sturch”. Equally passionate about his pizza, (and eating in general), this Mr. “Sturch” spoke highly of a small neighborhood joint in his old town that made a traditional Sicilian pie unlike any other.

So on a cold Friday night, in the winter of ’98, I sat down to what would be the most eye opening experience of my then just-budding pizza-eating life. A decade later, after hundreds of Sicilian pies, several special occasion dinners, countless solo take-out trips, and even more afternoon naps, Bruno’s still slings the most dynamic, most memorable Sicilian pie you’ll ever have.

Arriving as a thick and doughy rectangular wonder in a frame of crispy goodness, the Sicilian pie here is traditional on all accounts. Instead of using shredded mozzarella, the boys at Bruno’s do it the right way, starting with a layer of thinly-sliced mild mozzy that is then dressed with a generous helping of a sweet and sour red gravy unlike anything I’ve ever had. Finished off with a sprinkle of Pecorino, and blasted in the oven for 8 minutes (which seems like an eternity), this work of art comes to the table as a symphony of textures cominbining salty and spicy and everything in between. Add fresh garlic, and pitcher of RC Cola, and you'll wonder why you spend twice as much for this stuff in the city. I know I do.

Though my infatuation with the Sicilian pie has never waned, I have, over the years, found a way to get a feel for Bruno's other offerings, including the regular (round) pie (above left) which is as good any in North Jersey. A tad salty (in a good way), not too thin, and dusted with corn meal on the bottom, Bruno's round pie is true Jersey-style, perfect for folding and just oily enough that eating with your head tilted to one side is not only encouraged, but an absolute must.

If you can somehow bypass the Pizza Parlor in the front, you'll find a large dining room in the back of the house where you can enjoy classic italian favorites off of Bruno's rather extensive dinner menu. Giant portions, great sides of macaroni, heaping salads, and sinful dishes like the "Sausage Volcano" are the reason why I've celebrated anything and everything with my family here, and probably always will.

I can't speak highly enough about Bruno's, of course as an eating establishment but perhaps more so as a living hommage to the integrity, hard work and genuine class that underlines so many of New Jersey's oldest, and most popular restaurants. In the over-advertised, super-commercialized world of pizza, places like Bruno's, sadly, are a dying breed. Be that as it may, owner/operators Mike and Rich (and buddies of mine) have dedicated their lives to making pizza the right way, the only way they know how.

Now you just gotta get out to Clifton to get it....and I'm right behind you.

Bruno's Pizzeria

973-473-3339
1006 Us-46, Clifton, NJ 07013
MAP IT

Food: A (The sicilian pie is of another world)
Ambiance: A (classic Jersey pizza parlor)
Service: A (Mike and Rich actually care about their customers and it's rather obvious)
In a thought: I can only hope I'll be able to enjoy a square pie with my kids here.