Bella Pizza

The second I spotted Dennis Bellisario’s cornicello around his neck, I knew there was a story to be told. Meant to protect against the malocchio (“evil eye”), wearing a cornicello doesn’t just mean you’re superstitious and approximately-Italian. It also means you’re tethered to tradition and unwavering beliefs.

And for Dennis, his tradition and beliefs center around family recipe pizza.

As far back as Dennis can remember, the little restaurant at the corner of of Memphis and 49th in Old Brooklyn, Ohio has been a pizzeria. The red, white and green awning of authenticity on the front of the building. Before Dennis’ father opened Bella Pizza in the early nineties it was a joint called Mama Mia’s, opened circa 1953. Tradition runs deep here; unchanged.

Bella doesn’t rewrite the book on what a restaraunt is, or is supposed to be, or even used to be. In fact, Google’s actual map listing for it lists it as “basic neighborhood pick for pies and wings” (right on the map, I kid you not). I think Dennis would probably approve of that description.

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And that’s also why Dennis doesn’t have slices, which, admittedly was what we were hoping for when we set foot in the place. Quality over quantity means not selling pizza that’s been sitting under a lamp all day, losing heat and frequented by flies. That’s what Dennis told us.

I suppose the Old Brooklyn neighborhood is not incidentally named after the Italian-immigrant hotbed borough of New York City. As a resident of a city that’s lost a lot of it’s Italian heritage, it was refreshing for your author to see this little corner of far southwestern Cleveland holding the line for the paisans. This was capped off by the familiar red, white and green flag flying right at the same height as Old Glory high above the dining room at Bella Pizza. Tradition.

Cleveland feels like Buffalo in that Buffalo feels like real-deal, no B.S. people. And so it goes in all the cities that make no mistake in being by a Great Lake. When the reservoirs run dry out west and the traffic becomes too much, you all can just come back home to the most abundant fresh water availability in the known galaxy. Space available, here in reality.

Anyways.

We decided to set our high-brow, elitist/urban, greens-driven appetites aside and eat like we would’ve back in the old neighborhood. Pizza and wings: go.

Like so much of the lifestyle of true Clevelanders, Dennis couldn’t change the recipe for the pizza even if he wanted to. Tradition. “If I changed even the slightest thing about it, people would be all ‘what’d you do?‘” he tells us. The meat and cheese are all from the same sources (Dennis has got a ‘guy’) for many years now. They way ya done it got ya where ya are so far, and is that so bad? Tradition. No sense changin’ now.

And so maybe Dennis charges a little more for pizza than… the other guy. “Quality over quantity,” he says, and sort of sneers at the idea of folks paying less to get more of something that isn’t very good. Which I can support.

The secret to the award-winning garlic Parmesan wings is using Pecorino Romano cheese. It gives the wings more zip than using Parmigiano alone. If you think Dennis is worried about me exposing his craft secrets , don’t think it. His garlic Parm wings are people’s choice winners for the best in Old Brooklyn three years running. The secret’s out and there’s only room for followers at this point.
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Dennis with the hardware and the pennant

And there’s one final tradition that …sails… past them all. Decades of award-winning pizza and wings, and successful transition of ownership within the family, and little nuances and everything red sauce pales in comparison to Dennis’ proudest moment as an Italian;
Playing Christopher Columbus in the Columbus Day parade every year.

That’s right.

Yes, for many years now, Dennis Bellisario has proudly portrayed the Italian of greatest historic prominence to Americans. The fingers extending towards the riches of the West Indies. The thousand-yard stare. Clevelanders can rest assured that the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria will find their way safely up Murray Hill Road to Holy Rosary Church under Dennis’ steady hand and watchful command.

It’s tradition.

 Of note and possibly great import: belisario loosely translates as ‘swordsman’.

Coney Island, Baby

The best way to sum up Coney Island (the amusement park aspect), is a line from the second Godfather movie in reference to the always-imminent death of the villainous Hyman Roth:

“He’s been dying of the same heart attack for the last 20 years.”

Coney Island is always just about to close. This summer, and next summer, and the summer of ’85, and the Summer of Sam, and decades of New York summers were/are always going to be the “last” summer of operation there. And as a result, thousands of mourners have made the June, July, or August pilgrimage to this lock-box of yesteryear America on the far eastern tip of Brooklyn, USA.

One last ride on the teacups before they become Trump-built luxury condos. Grab an authentico chip of paint off the Cyclone before it becomes termite food. So frommy own need to see this American icon before it bit the dust, we revisit Coney Island, in black and white, in the late summer of 2008.

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The park, boardwalk, and overall neighborhood had a surprisingly local feel, however. It was evident that the remoteness of Coney had let is continue to exist as a neighborhood, which as folks that live in bigger cities know, if you live in a neighborhood, it’s much more likely to feel like home.P1030923

There are as many remnants of rides as there are functioning rides, and it certainly does feel like the entire amusement park will surrender itself to development one day. But on August 18, 2008, everyone that was *this* tall could still  shake, rattle and roller-coaster around on the Cyclone or pay too much for a flat soda in Astroland.

I was saddened to read that Shoot The Freak was demolished in 2010. After the devastation of Hurricane Sandy, an effort was made to revive many of the boardwalk attractions. This included a far more politically-correct game called “Shoot The Clown” bringing back the spirit of ‘Freak’.

I think generally-speaking folks are probably more comfortable shooting a ‘freak’ than an innocent clown, but on the other hand maybe we just shouldn’t shoot anyone for sport.P1030924

There is a touch of almost every 20th Century decade at Coney Island. The 1920s boardwalk, where women dared to show leg above the ankle. The original Coney Island hot dog stand looks much the same as it did in the 1930s, when a hot dog was all Depression-era New Yorkers could afford to eat. ‘Newer’ rides speak to World War II and glorious fifties-era America. And the American Century rounds out nicely in East New York with the ravages of our sad experiment with urban renewal (read still-undeveloped lots) and a smattering of public housing and hastily-built condo towers.

P1030919 Coney Island remains an essential visit, be you a local or a tourist tired of the maddening crowds of Manhattan. Make sure to visit soon, as this might be the last summer of Coney Island!

Or… maybe not.

To view the “Coney Island, Baby” gallery in its entirety, please visit the CultofAmericana photo galleries or click on any of the photos above.