Editor's note: And our roving pizza correspondent, Philip G., checks in from the Old Line State, good ol' Maryland. Buon appetito, ladies and gents! —Kuban
Ask any Baltimorean about what makes the Baltimore food scene special, and there is sure to be one answer: Crabs.
Crap. This is a pizza site.
When I thought about doing a series on Baltimore pizza, I knew exactly where I had to start: Pizza John's. I have been reading about Pizza John's for a few years now. It always seems to break into the top 5 of AOL Cityguide's Best Pizza in Baltimore, and it comes up from time to time on Chowhound, but up until recently I had never made the trip to visit.
Pizza John's has been a Baltimore area staple since 1966. It was a carryout-only operation up until 1981, when it added a seating area. The space was renovated and expanded in 2004. It is now a giant, mustard-colored building with a highly stylized exterior—almost reminiscent of a full-service chain restaurant. Oh, and it has a 12-foot-tall pizza guy statue standing out front. Confused? Me too. But he's been standing on that street since 1977, so leave him alone.
Editor's note: Today, Chuck K., a New York expatriate living on the West Coast, drops by with some news about a little slice of heaven in Sedona, Arizona. Buon appetito, friends! —Adam
Attention, pizza lovers: There is a pizza paradise that has been under the radar for far too long. I first discovered this oasis in the pizza desert (some say that's everywhere west of the Hudson River) four years ago when I was returning from a road trip through the Southwest.
I came to the proverbial fork in the road, where I could either head west on Interstate 40 out of Flagstaff, Arizona, or continue south on 89A, where the mystical village of Sedona, land of the energy vortex, lay ahead. A little voice told me to head south. I did, and I discovered thousands of shops hawking every possible New Age product known to man. There were energy crystals, nature sounds, tantric massages, and enlightenment, all available for a price.
But as I was driving down the road, I noticed a sign that caught my attention like a Mike Tyson left hook. It read: Apizza Heaven.
Artichoke, man. What can be said about this place that hasn't already been argued about on Slice and a slew of other websites in recent weeks? I have been to the joint three different times—twice last weekend after word first broke on Slice and Chowhound and once this past Friday night—and I'm here to say that their pizza has already improved.
I had a chat with Francis Basille, one of the owners who grew up making pies at Basille's in Staten Island and asked him about Eric Miller (doesn't know him from Adam—not Kuban, the proverbial Adam!), the ingredients he uses, and the opening of his restaurant in the pizza-saturated East Village.
Now I'm gonna have a chat with you guys about why Artichoke's reception has been so incendiary—there have certainly been differences in opinion and we'll see if we can get to the bottom of this once and for all. I want to hear from those of you who've tried the joint when it first opened and went back in recent days to see if anyone agrees with my contention that Artichoke's plain slice is better now than it was when they opened.
This is not dainty stuff. Portions are huge, even sloppy. Grated cheese is strewn with abandon, and tomato sauce liberally applied. The pizza is lumpy, a little heavy-handed with the muzz, occasionally burnt, and undeniably delicious. Of the three varieties usually on hand, the square Sicilian (made with a combination of fresh mozzarella, Polly-O, and a sprinkling of pecorino and Parmigiano-Reggiano) is our favorite, a hungry-man study in contrasting sharp, salty, sweet, and creamy flavors. The round “Neapolitan” is nearly as good, though you might fault its somewhat stiff, unyielding crust. The best thing the U.G. can say, however, about the artichoke-spinach pie is that Keith Richards apparently loves it. Thick, bready, and anointed with a super-creamy sauce enriched with butter and wine, it’s Garcia’s pride and joy, but kind of an acquired taste.
Editor's note: Slice reader Rich DeFabritus joins us today with an update on a Trenton, New Jersey, legend. —Adam
The legend continues—De Lorenzo's Robbinsville (2350 US Highway 33, Robbinsville, NJ; (609)-341-8480). New location is bigger, but crowds still a mainstay, so get here early or be prepared to wait.
Words and Photographs by Rich DeFabritus | British author Benjamin Disraeli was quoted as saying, “change is inevitable, change is constant”. And while many are resistant to change, it’s as certain as death and taxes.
Recognizing this, the famed New Jersey landmark, De Lorenzo’s Tomato Pies, has embraced change and done the previously unthinkable—they’ve moved! Now before you get your pizza peel warped in disbelief, let me clarify. Technically, the old Trenton location will stay opened concurrently with the new Robbinsville location. But with revised hours (no longer opened on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, dinner servings only) and the onset of urban decay, it’s a matter of time before the Hudson Street joint is no more.
"I don't get why Vezzo is so popular just like I don't get why some people spend their Saturday nights at one of those souped-up frat houses on Third Avenue."
Every neighborhood in Manhattan has its pros and cons. It's probably true that a lot of West Villagers would say they have nothing to complain about. But, then again, they still have to deal with the fact that Bleecker Street Pizza sits on Seventh Avenue South. Snap! You could argue that some 'hoods have more pros than cons when matching one up against another, but I guess there's an upside and downside to living anywhere in the city. I mean, take my 'hood, Murray Hill, for instance. You could certainly say the place is a toolbox, given the type of crowd that frequents the Third Avenue watering holes. But, its residents also have the benefit of three strong pizza delivery places (Totonno's, Pizza 33, and Libretto's) that allows me to see past some of Murray Hill's shortcomings.
So why am I getting greedy and trying to find a fourth? Why did I insist on trying Vezzo a third time this past weekend, knowing that I had been disappointed on my first two orders? Is it the consistently strong crowds it draws, making me wonder if I've missed something? Is it the flack I took after my first post on Vezzo was critical of the place? Should I feel bad about that (I'll answer that one now—F NO!)? Was it the promising crisp crust that maybe just needed to be topped with higher quality ingredients? These are all viable questions, but here's the most important inquiry: Is Vezzo back in BUBBLE TROUBLE? Let's find out.
Editor's note: Below, reader Lemons checks in with some St. Louis pizza intel. For more on St. Louis–area food, check out Lemons's blog: St. Louis Eats and Drinks. —Adam
It's flatter than a pancake, it's square, and there's not a hint of mozzarella about it. What's something described like that doing on a pizza blog?
It's a piece of Imo's Pizza, the epitome of St. Louis–style pie. This idiosyncratic rendition is characterized by an extremely thin crust with no raised edge, the pie itself roughly cut into 3-inch squares—or as closely as you can get when starting with something round—and the use of Provel cheese. Detractors, who include most non-native St. Louisans, describe it as Cheez Whiz on a cracker.
Frankie and Mary Lou Cappezza, the former owners of the now-closed Corona Heights Pork Store, are my culinary E. F. Huttons. When they talk, I listen. So when they told me I had to check out Rose & Joe Italian Bakery in their old Astoria stomping grounds, I wasted no time getting there.
As usual, they were right. Rose & Joe's wondrous braided semolina bread has plenty of character and flavor. But as good as the bread is here, Rose & Joe's ultimate triumph is their Sicilian pizza.
In the back of the bakery a young woman sells slices: plain, broccoli, and sausage. The crust is crisp, slightly doughy, and surprisingly light. So don't thank me when you bite into your first slice of Rose & Joe's pizza. Thank Frankie and Mary Lou.
Most Sicilian pizza is just too thick for me, but Rizzo's in Astoria is the home of the wondrous thin-crust Sicilian slice. For 40 years, Joe Rizzo has been making thin-crust Sicilian pizza the way his father learned in Sicily. That means he uses homemade sauce (slightly sweet), full-cream mozzarella that lies ever so gently on top of the light—almost demure—crust, and just enough Romano cheese to give his pizza a little zing.
When you walk into Rizzo's, all you'll see on the counter are rectangular trays of fresh-out-of-the-oven Sicilian pizza. After years of maintaining Sicilian-only pizza purity, Rizzo's is now making conventional Neapolitan pizza. I can't tell you how it is, though, because I refuse to order it on general principle—I come here for the Sicilian slice only.
Rizzo's
Address: 30-13 Steinway Street, Astoria NY 11103 (Queens, between City Avenue and Dunway Street; map) Phone: 718-721-9862
At Denino's, the pizza box says it all: "In Crust We Trust."
They should trust their crust, because it is light and crisp and pliant.
Denino's is a classic red-brick tavern pizzeria (with a separate dining room), but it is just as welcoming to kids after a little league game as it is to middle-aged softball players coming in for a pie and a brew after a game.
I'm crazy about Denino's sausage pie, which features fine sweet Italian sausage made fresh every day by a local butcher. If you want to go vegetarian, try the white pie, made with mozzarella, onions, fresh garlic, and a splash of olive oil.
After 53 years, you might think the Denino family has gotten bored with making pizza. Not so, according to third-generation co-owner Michael Denino: "We still put our heart and soul into every pie."
Denino's
Address: 524 Richmond Avenue, Staten Island NY 10302 (at Hooker Place; map) Phone: 718-442-9401 Related: All Denino's entries on Slice
Giuseppe Pappalardo, an owner of Joe & Pat's in Castleton Corners, Staten Island, mastered his craft at three legendary Staten Island slice establishments: Nunzio's,Ciro's, and Tokie's. His slices are distinguished by a superbly thin, crisp crust.
"They're easier to digest," he says, "so you can eat a lot of them."
And believe me, I do.
Giuseppe's son Angelo has now joined him at the pizzeria. He's a serious chef whose last stop was at Esca in Manhattan. I'm sure he'll do wonders for all the other food at Joe & Pat's. The only way he could improve the pizza is to make it with fresh mozzarella.
It's not always easy searching for pizza. I had just eaten a fine pie in the outdoor café at Tosca in the Throgs Neck section of the Bronx. It was really hot and muggy, and I was on foot, looking for PJ Brady's, which a couple of locals had insisted was just a few blocks away. I headed east on East Tremont Avenue. I crossed Interstate 295 on a bridge and walked two hundred yards. I reached Philip Avenue and made a right. The first house number I saw was 2800, and the numbers were going up, a good sign considering PJ Brady's is at 3201 Philip Avenue.
The houses I was passing were more like bungalows, and many had boats in the driveway. The boats made sense, considering that Throgs Neck is surrounded by water. A few of them were guarded by Doberman pinschers that looked ready to defend their masters' possessions with all their fury. When I reached 3100 Philip Avenue, my shirt was soaked through with sweat, and my heart sank. I was staring at yet another highway, and this time there was no pedestrian bridge to cross. I despaired of ever reaching PJ Brady's, where the legendary pie man Louis Palladino was plying his trade two days a week in semiretirement (see Alan Feuer's profile in the New York Times).
Hovering over the activity is a slim, fair-haired guy wearing a permanent grin, otherwise known as the owner, James O'Brien, a musician (he plays guitar and piano) and barkeep-turned-restaurateur. He'll tell you his passion for pizza stretches back to his youth in New Jersey and time spent in New York and New Haven, Conn., places that live and die by pies. Only after he knew pizza would be the next bullet point on his résumé did he meet the man who would shed serious light on the subject: consultant Edan MacQuaid, whose dozen or so years of employment at Pizzeria Paradiso and 2 Amys—Washington's trailblazing pizza purveyors—give RedRocks street cred.
Salvatore Pollito is a pie man, no two ways about it. Ten years ago he opened a solid slice joint in Queens. Then, when he felt he had mastered the art of the slice, he decided to tackle coal-fired, brick-oven pizza, inspired by his many ttips to Totonno's and Patsy's. He has done that successfully at Bella Via, which, with its brick walls and big windows, is one of the more cheerful pizzerias I have come across.
Pollito had a local guy build the oven at Bella Via, and tucked it into the back of the place in full view of the salivating patrons, who watch as he turns out beautiful pies. Pollito uses low-moisture, slightly aged mozzarella, Italian tomatoes, and fine locally sourced sausage on his pies. His crust is fairly thin, bready, and soft and doesn't have much chew to it.
Bella Via
Address: 47-46 Vernon Boulevard, Long Island City NY (at 48th Avenue; map) Phone: 718-361-7510 Related: All Bella Via entries on Slice
A slice from Nunzio's is a pristine exercise in elegant pizza minimalism. It's not very big, so pizza-by-the-ton Ray's fans should go elsewhere. Yet everything about it is right: the ratio of sauce to cheese, the crisp yet pliant crust, and the tangy sauce enlivened by fresh basil. I love the sausage Nunzio's puts on its slices. It's nubby, loaded with flavor, and has plenty of fennel in it. Nunzio's even looks the way a pizzeria should: It is a white stucco shack with a tiny dining room brightened by black-and-white photos of the original Nunzio's in South Beach, Sraten Island.
Nunzio's
Address: 2155 Hylan Boulevard, Staten Island NY 10306 (at Midland Avenue; map) Phone: 718-667-9647
This past Sunday, like so many of mine, was all about the pie. I started with a noon jaunt down to Luzzo's to reconfirm my love for the Naples-born Margherita DOC. However, as I was coming from uptown, I stumbled first upon good ol' Vinny Vincenz, as it's only one block north of Luzzo's on First Avenue. I had to at least stop in and grab one of Vin's excellent Sicilian slices, just to use it as a base case! Besides, Vinny has always been a friend of Slice's, and they even have E-Rock's classic review of the joint taped to their window—if other pie joints could only be so savvy! Of course, if I were Vezzo or L'Asso, I don't know if that would be such a good idea.
Anyway, Luzzo's was terrific (although you have to order their Margheritas with extra mozz, since they're awfully stingy with that), and Vincenzo was on point, Sicilian-style, and I went home satisfied. As a quick aside, I will say that Luzzo's crust is on par with Isabella's (on a good night, of course). The best indication that Luzzo's is on point has to be that it sits a half block from Una Pizza Napoletana and still draws comparable crowds on Friday nights.
At dinner time, I realized I hadn't been on a slice walk in some time. A slice walk is a pilgrimage to pie that I make every so often, typically on Sunday nights, where I have dinner by means of trying 3 or 4 slices from different Manhattan pizzerias. A slice walk is how I've tried, by my own modest estimate, approximately 200-plus pizzerias in Manhattan alone. These walks will never be all inclusive—I'm not eating pizza from a "deli" where I can also buy Rolos, and I'll never buy a slice from a joint after walking in and looking down at a monstrosity of a slice pie (trust me, you can tell when a slice is gonna be downright bad after going on enough of these, or so I thought).
Posted by DJ Bubbles, September 10, 2007 at 5:00 PM
Vezzo Address: 178 Lexington Avenue, New York NY Phone: 212-839-8300
The draw: Strong word-of-mouth recommendations to the DJ, "Thin Crust Pizza," two sister pizzerias (Gruppo and Posto) that are also doing very well, a brick-oven, cash only (often indicative of high quality, e.g., Patsy's of East Harlem, Una Pizza Napoletana), and an exceptional Zagat rating for Gruppo (26 for quality—Vezzo makes the same pie, trust me).
The facts: Wow, it's Sunday night and it's been a busy weekend. Kinda want to just stay on the couch, maybe order in. A dinner jaunt doesn't sound good right now, not even for a pie. I know, pretty pathetic. I had been seeing some big crowds while walking past Vezzo lately and I decided to see what all the fuss was about. And, although you know that I don't like to rate a joint's delivery pie, in this instance, it wouldn't have made a bit of difference. A trip to Vezzo for a fresh made pie would not undermine any of the DJ's conclusions contained in this article.
Ladies and gents, the always opinionated DJ Bubbles has checked in once again. Because I never know when he's going to strike, I'd been unofficially calling his stunning dispatches "drive-bys." Now I'm formalizing it. Here's the DJ Bubbles Drive-By on Isabella's Oven. It's a must-read, so do click through the jump. —Adam
Words by DJ Bubbles | It has been said before that having a great meal can be a transcendent experience. When someone has poured all his soul, energy, and being into something so divine, you can taste it in every bite. It isn't something that happens all that often in these times, but when it does, you don't soon forget it. To say that I had one of these experiences this Saturday may be true—I'm still not sure. How is that possible, you ask? That's a good question, and all I know is it happened on my second trip to Isabella's Oven after a very mediocre first visit. The difference in pie quality was immediately apparent after I had my first slice of an individual Margherita while sitting on Isabella's outdoor patio. However, the questions regarding this newbie's consistency linger, and I have to ask myself—was this past Saturday the beginning of a beautiful friendship or a flash in the pan, mere pizza fool's gold?
Ladies and gents, Slice's favorite drive-by pizza reviewer is back after a long absence. That's right, DJ Bubbles, whose credentials are best explained by the man himself in his message below, has resurfaced with the following email, to which he attached two photos—one presumably of himself and the other, I'm guessing, his dog, who I'm going to christen DJ Doggles. Buon appetito! —The Mgmt.
Attenzione, New Yorkers: Slice is in Bubble Trouble again as New York City's number one player hater is back on attack. The primogenitor of the Definitive NYC Top Ten Pizza List (the most commented-on article in Slice's history) has undertaken many exploratory slice walks throughout New York County in search of the borough's best grandma, or nonna, slice. Rest assured, I found it, and it certainly was not the Levine-endorsed Maffei on 22nd Street and Sixth Avenue nor the bootleg hybrid that is Lazzara's pan pie. No, my new No. 1 nonna hosed both of those knockoffs.
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Ask any Baltimorean about what makes the Baltimore food scene special, and there is sure to be one answer: Crabs.
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