NEW YORK — After nearly 15 years of kneading dough in his Brooklyn pizzeria, Salvatore Lo Duca faced an unexpected crisis: his family’s signature thin-crust pizza relied on bromated flour containing potassium bromate, a chemical suspected of causing cancer and already banned in 20+ countries. The discovery sparked a frantic kitchen overhaul as Lo Duca and his five brothers abandoned the centuries-old ingredient for an organic alternative.
‘We didn’t realize how deeply it was embedded in our process,’ said Lo Duca, now adjusting recipes with ‘a little more expensive’ flour. ‘It’s not just about cost—it’s about what we’ll taste when we bite into a slice.’
The impending ban, currently awaiting Gov. Kathy Hochul’s signature, could transform New York City’s culinary identity. A draft bill would prohibit potassium bromate in flour by 2025—a move already disrupting thousands of pizzerias and bagel shops. For bakeries like Utopia Bagels, whose owner Jesse Spellman described the chemical as ‘the only reason we get those perfect bagels,’ the transition means rethinking every step of production.
‘You could achieve the same texture, but it would take triple the time and cost,’ Spellman admitted. ‘This isn’t just about dough—it’s about how we’ve been making food for generations.’
The chemical, used since the 1940s to reduce rest time and create chewier crusts, has no safe exposure level according to experts. Studies from the 1980s show it causes cancer in animals, and the FDA’s warning labels now call it a ‘potential carcinogen.’ Yet its absence threatens the very definition of New York food—potato-chip-scratchy crusts, bagels with perfect ‘springy bite’—a legacy many fear would be lost.
While some shops, like DoughBoyz in Florida, cling to bromated flour, others embrace change. ‘Without it, dough ferments longer, producing lighter pies that actually digest better,’ explained pizza historian Scott Wiener. ‘The slices might not be as fast—but they’ll be healthier.’
For now, pizzerias navigate a tightrope. The bill allows one year to switch suppliers and adjust recipes, but with General Mills’s ‘All Trumps’ flour (a staple for nearly 100 years) already offering unbromated alternatives, the industry is adapting at a frantic pace. Meanwhile, customers debate whether the change will bring back that perfect slice—or leave New York without its soul.
‘This isn’t just about pizza,’ Wiener insists. ‘It’s about how we tell the story of New York—and whether it’s a city of speed or artistry.’}
‘We didn’t realize how deeply it was embedded in our process,’ said Lo Duca, now adjusting recipes with ‘a little more expensive’ flour. ‘It’s not just about cost—it’s about what we’ll taste when we bite into a slice.’
The impending ban, currently awaiting Gov. Kathy Hochul’s signature, could transform New York City’s culinary identity. A draft bill would prohibit potassium bromate in flour by 2025—a move already disrupting thousands of pizzerias and bagel shops. For bakeries like Utopia Bagels, whose owner Jesse Spellman described the chemical as ‘the only reason we get those perfect bagels,’ the transition means rethinking every step of production.
‘You could achieve the same texture, but it would take triple the time and cost,’ Spellman admitted. ‘This isn’t just about dough—it’s about how we’ve been making food for generations.’
The chemical, used since the 1940s to reduce rest time and create chewier crusts, has no safe exposure level according to experts. Studies from the 1980s show it causes cancer in animals, and the FDA’s warning labels now call it a ‘potential carcinogen.’ Yet its absence threatens the very definition of New York food—potato-chip-scratchy crusts, bagels with perfect ‘springy bite’—a legacy many fear would be lost.
While some shops, like DoughBoyz in Florida, cling to bromated flour, others embrace change. ‘Without it, dough ferments longer, producing lighter pies that actually digest better,’ explained pizza historian Scott Wiener. ‘The slices might not be as fast—but they’ll be healthier.’
For now, pizzerias navigate a tightrope. The bill allows one year to switch suppliers and adjust recipes, but with General Mills’s ‘All Trumps’ flour (a staple for nearly 100 years) already offering unbromated alternatives, the industry is adapting at a frantic pace. Meanwhile, customers debate whether the change will bring back that perfect slice—or leave New York without its soul.
‘This isn’t just about pizza,’ Wiener insists. ‘It’s about how we tell the story of New York—and whether it’s a city of speed or artistry.’}
