[ WP ] You are a travelled drug-dealer in the state of New York and open a pizza place as a cover for a drug operation . In doing so , you find your true passion , making pizza .

“ Hey Mikey, pass me another can of crushed tomatoes. ” 
 
 I clicked the can opener into place, cranked, and dumped the can of sweet italian sunshine into the pot, introducing it to the minced garlic and olive oil waiting patiently below. Stirring gently, I inhaled. Some things just can ’ t be rushed. Tomato sauce is one of them. 
 
 “ Jon, we ’ ve got a line around the block. We ’ re already backed up with orders for the next hour. Can you hurry it up back there? ” 
 
 Smiling to myself, I thought about how crazy this was. When you spend years shaking people down for thousands, it seemed trivial that these people were lined up and waiting to, of all things, fork over cash. No shake down. No guns. Just the crash of the register, the crunch of crust, and satisfied sighs. 
 
 “ They ’ ll wait, ” I laughed back at him. 
 
 I can ’ t pinpoint the moment it happened. Was it while I was researching the place? Or maybe it was when we were doing the build out? Like anything in life, there ’ s no point in doing it unless you ’ re going to do it well. Besides, nobody would believe my little hole-in-the-wall pizza joint was doing millions in business if our pies weren ’ t the best fucking pies in Brooklyn. 
 
 Those weeks I spent visiting the classics were something else. I ’ ll never forget that first taste of Di Fara. The sauce at L & B is to die for. There were no shortage of young guns to check out either. Roberta ’ s? Solid, but too much of a production. Same with Paulie Gee ’ s. Sottocasa is good, but lacks creativity. I fuck with Best Pizza ’ s white slice, but it ’ s not as good as the coal oven spots. 
 
 And who doesn ’ t remember pizza of their childhood. Greasy slices at Chuck E. Cheese. When mom would go out of town for a while, and dad would order Domino ’ s. Every kid loves pizza. 
 
 So we started with the basics. Sourdough crust. A long fermentation and quick fire. Homemade tomato sauce, slowly simmered with the best tomatoes, giving a burst of sweet and acid. Hand pulled mozzarella, made with a major assist from grass fed, Hudson Valley cows. A scorching coal oven. Cold pilsners from Suarez Family Brewery and IPAs from Other Half. Simplicity. 
 
 When we opened the doors, I was nervous. We ’ d sunk close to a million into the place. We desperately needed a new way to cleanse our cash flows. That much hidden cash was a burden. Who could anticipate what happened next? 
 
 When Instagrammers and bloggers started showing up, I paid no mind. But The New York Times? The fucking New Yorker? For years, I thought nothing could match the rush of negotiating with the Colombians. That was before I knew what a Friday dinner service in Gowanus could be like. 
 
 I scraped the oregano into the pot, filling the air with an intoxicating smell of pending satisfaction. I settled into a blissful trance, as I often did stirring sauce. 
 
 “ They ’ ll wait, ” I mumbled to myself with a chuckle.
