[Photographs: Tim Kang]

Whenever I have an impatient hankering for coal-oven, old-school New York–Neapolitan-style pizza, a small chain of Bergen County restaurants called Brooklyn's Brick Oven Pizza has obviated my need to actually go to New York.

According to the restaurant's placemat blurb, owner John Grimaldi and family opened the first Hackensack location of Brooklyn's Brick Oven Pizza in 1993 with the training and blessing of his uncle Patsy Grimaldi. Yes, that Patsy Grimaldi, founder of the eponymous pizzerias in Brooklyn and Hoboken. You could even say that Brooklyn's Brick Oven Pizza is yet another offshoot of the Pizza Family Tree, since Patsy Grimaldi himself learned the ropes under his uncle Patsy Lancieri in East Harlem.

I gave the almost hidden Brooklyn's Brick Oven Pizza location in the Edgewater Commons shopping center a test drive.

The anything-but-plain cheese pie reminded me why I loved this style of pizza so much. The light crust's crispy bottom served as a substantial platform for the islands of oozing house-pulled mozzarella floating amidst pools of sweet, lightly salted and barely cooked tomatoes. To finish off, a healthy scattering of oregano provided an earthy counterpoint to the grated Romano and blackened strands of basil chiffonade. I liked the sauce to cheese ratio, though I prefer a more unified melt versus the segregated form shown in this pie. This pie is best eaten quickly, before the cheese stiffens and separates from the sauce.

Observe the perfectly cooked crust baked in these coal ovens. Its golden brown hue is mottled with char and tiny steam holes. Upon first bite, a fragrantly sweet yeasty aroma wafted through my nose. This malty flavor should be the goal for any aspiring pizzamaker. I particularly enjoyed the thick-skinned endcrust. Its crispy, Romano-dusted exterior revealed a soft, open crumb that packed a wonderfully potent bread flavor. The crust's thickness varied throughout the pie—at points it was 1/16" thick, at others 1/2".

The sweet sausage, pepperoni, and red onion pie had the same foundation. The bottom crust didn't cook as well, but the sausage and pepperoni was liberally applied throughout the pie to my satisfaction. The red onions offered a perfumed, sweet counterpoint to the rich cheese and meat.

The sweet sausage didn't stand out, except for a good amount of fennel flavor. The thick-cut pepperoni didn't crisp up very well and lacked any stand-out flavor, but the pieces did shrivel into the pleasing grease-filled cups that burst in your mouth.

Our exceptionally cheery and helpful waiter suggested we try the fried ravioli appetizer. It came with a dish of the same sweet, lightly cooked tomatoes used on the pizza. The sauce served as an essential lubricating counterpoint to the crunchy, breaded pasta, which was filled with a piping hot ricotta and spinach filling. I couldn't help but wonder how that filling would taste in a pillow of pizza dough.

I found the pies at Brooklyn's Brick Oven Pizza to be extremely similar in style and flavor to the original Grimaldi's near the Brooklyn Bridge. The crust may have been a little thicker overall, but the pizza had a remarkably similar flavor profile. Since I believe that flavor's the main selling point of the original pie, I rejoice that I no longer have to fight through FDR traffic and hunt for parking to get it.