what up????!
Here’s a quick, sadistic move for home: Add chicken fat to your potato salad.
Last week I made a big batch of stock, so naturally I had to skim off a bunch of chicken fat over the weekend. I always save my fat, and I thought about cooking with it—eggs, beans, maybe make a salad dressing. But instead, I mixed it into potato salad like a dang freak.
A quick potato salad using boiled Russet potatoes, celery, vinegar, mushroom soy sauce, chicken fat, and Duke’s mayo proved to be lethal. This was so damn delicious I found myself sneaking a little spoonful of potato salad between tasks as a treat. Take out the trash? Potato salad. Finish a workout? Potato salad.
While it tasted super duper meaty and tangy, I think the chicken fat and soy sauce made the potato salad look very grey and very shitty. So, I’m not going to bother posting a pic because I fear it will undersell the idea, but chicken fat in potato salad works, homie.
Alright, now that I’m done with the intro, it’s time for a little tablespoon of medicine (potato salad).
Hey before we talk about Grandma-style pizza, consider subscribing! Pay if you want. This is all free for now, unlike my love (which is quite expensive).
The Grandma Slice at Secret Pizza Rules
I went to Secret Pizza over the weekend to try the Sicilian-style and Grandma-style slices. Both were spectacular, and add to the catalogue of already-awesome-shit Sean Lango serves, but the Grandma-style decidedly won my heart.
Secret Pizza’s round pizza, which at one time was labeled the best pizza in Los Angeles by Times critic Bill Addison (a title that I believe still holds up), is an East Coast-style pie. What does that mean? Well, for starters, they’re big fuckers—18 inches in diameter, thin crust, with a crunchy, pliable dough that’s delightfully chewy. No flop. It features uncooked pizza sauce, a blend of both mozzarella cheese and Pecorino Romano, and oregano. That Pecorino is crucial—it gives the pizza needed bite. It’s an awesome East Coast pizza, and one that’s been sorely needed in Los Angeles.
So yeah, the New York style is excellent and probably the best in L.A. blah blah blah, but hey-and-hold-the-hell-up, because Sean’s Long Island Grandma slice and Sicilian square might be better.
The Grandma-style slice is bitey, herby, thick, porous, and unbelievably tangy. It is the single most enticing slice of pizza I’ve had all year. I feel….attached to it.
The composition of this classic New York square slice is wonderful. “With Grandma style, it’s more of a balancing act between sauce and cheese,” Sean says. Is the cheese on top or the sauce? It’s hard to tell, and who cares? Both tangle together forming a beautiful marbled appearance.
He par bakes the pizza crusts for both the Sicilian and Grandma for workflow reasons, but also for texture. Smearing the heavy pizza pans with a little bit of olive oil and pre-baking the dough creates a crispy-crunchy bottom that compliments the chewy, soft interior. Oh, and the Grandma-slice looks chunky, but it is deceptively light. Even Sean gets fooled by it sometimes, “Sometimes I look at it, then pick it up and get surprised by its weight.” It tastes both rich and bright, the summation of meticulously chosen ingredients. “It gets a heavy dose of our best olive oil, cheese, and basil,” Sean says proudly.
Though Sean uses his same master dough for all of his pizzas, the Grandma slice is longer and bigger. The Sicilian, which is shorter and taller, features oregano and whole milk low-moisture mozzarella, while the Grandma has basil and a fresh, whole milk mozzarella. Both cheeses are Grande brand (what many New York pizzerias use for Grandma-style.) The Grandma is also finished with a drizzle of olive oil for opulence; the Sicilian, meanwhile, goes without it.
The whole milk “loaf” of fresh mozzarella cheese on the Grandma-style is much creamier than the low-moisture stuff. Mix that cheese with a little Pecorino, and boom—you’ve got an irresistible cheese blend.
There’s debate on what constitutes a true Grandma-style slice. Sean operates his dough with a hydration percentage in the mid 60’s, meaning a flavorful, light, and crisp pizza dough. Whether or not a classic New Jersey Grandma slice should feature garlic is often the subject of argument. Sean omits it here, but he might dabble with it in the future.
“People have strong feelings about the garlic, which I respect. I’ll probably have it as a option soon.”
Sean doesn’t need the garlic, though. It’s not really his style. The classic, New York style cheese slice at Secret Pizza remains champion because it’s understated, and that same aesthetic echos throughout his Grandma-style pies. It’s Sean’s commitment to less is more that makes the pizza at Secret Pizza so damn good. Do the little things right, and you can’t go wrong.
Feels like something Grandma would say.
On most weekends, you can catch Sean and his crew selling squares of both Grandma style pizza and Sicilian style. The Grandma slice typically goes for $5, and a Sicilian for $3 (Sean tells me he’s probably going to raise that to $3.25).
Secret Pizza L.A.
3501 Monterey Rd.
Los Angeles, CA 90032
That’s it! Thanks for reading, and go grab a slice of Grandma-style pizza already. If you want to subscribe, boy howdy that’d be dope. Tell your friends! I’ll see ya’ll on Monday.