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.
On Friday I posted an entry with the emailed text of two tipsters eager to hip Slice to Artichoke, a new pizzeria in the East Village. Later, in the comments of that post and on Eater, people raised concerns that we had guerrilla marketers in our midst. I'd like to address that.
Are They Shills?
Are they? I don't think so. In email exchanges I've had with both guys since publication of that post, they've seemed aboveboard.
If I'm being fooled, however, then I will admit that in my rush to "break news" about a potentially hot new pizzeria, I didn't read those emails with the amount of skepticism that I'd like to think has kept Slice free of shills over the years I've been publishing.
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.
Posted by Adam Kuban, December 18, 2007 at 6:00 AM
Or, 'This Is Where You're Ordering Pizza From Now, Park Slope'
Peppe's Pizza & Panini
Address: 597 Fourth Avenue, Brooklyn NY 11215 (b/n 17th and 18th streets, Park Slope; map) Phone: 718-788-7333 Website:peppepizzapanini.com Oven Type: Gas-fired, steel-deck oven Hours: 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. daily Payment: Cash and cards Price: $16 for large plain pie (18 inches); $12 for small (12 inches) Recommended Options: Order the plain pie and ask for a mixture of regular mozz, fresh mozz, and the imported Pecorino-Romano. The Skinny: This newcomer to the Park Slope pizza scene is being compared to Di Fara, and while that side-by-side is a little premature, it offers a stand-up pie that's miles beyond that of any conventional-oven pizzeria currently operating in the neighborhood. If you live in the Slope, this is your new go-to delivery pizzeria.
A whole pie with fior di latte (fresh mozzarella). The lighting in my kitchen blows, so this doesn't look as good as it tastes.
Even so, apart from visits to Franny's on special occasions or delivery orders placed solely to stave off hunger when all other late-night options are closed, I hardly look forward to eating pizza in the neighborhood.
Enter Peppe's Pizza & Panini, which actually has me excited again about Park Slope pies and slices.
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.
I had a truly great pizza in a new pizza place on Saturday, and though I'm not going to tell you that I have seen pizza's future and its name is Isabella's Oven, the way Jon Landau did a zillion years ago when he saw Springsteen live and declared that he had seen rock and roll's future, I will say I had a pie that would easily make a New York City top ten list and maybe a national one as well.
Now in New York, when you declare a pizza place that's not on anybody's radar to be Pizza Hall of Fame-worthy, there can be hell to pay. But I'm willing to stand the heat of the wood-burning oven.
It makes my heart sing when I walk into a pizzeria and see the glow of burning wood logs in a brick oven. Patricia's serves pizza made either in the aforementioned wood-burning oven or a gas oven. The pizza is the same price, so why anyone would order a pie made in the gas oven is beyond me. My Margherita had the most tender pizza crust I've had east of Phoenix. It had virtually no crunch, but it had the texture and consistency of fresh-backed bread. The mozzarella was fresh, as was the basil, and the tomato sauce wasn't gummed up by too many spices. The sausage, oblong strips cut lengthwise from what must have been a fat link, had a clean porky flavor. The menu here proclaims, "the Best Sicilian Pizza in New York City!" Though I appreciated both the fresh mozzarella and the smoky taste the wood-burning oven imparts to the thick Sicilian crust, this claim could not be substantiated by the half pie I had. I though the crust would have used a bit more olive oil. The menu at Patricia's has a zillion items on it, everything from Rigatoni PavarottiPavarotti to T-bone steak, but I've never had anything except the pizza—from the wood-burning brick oven, not the gas oven.
At Tosca, the servers wear polo shirts that say "Coal oven pizza since 1922." I was skeptical, because neither my Bronx-born relatives nor my Bronx pizza mavens can recall having a pizza here until a couple of years ago. No matter. I ordered my pizza with fresh mozzarella and sausage on half and went back to check out the coal oven. Sure enough, there it was, a white- and black-tiled beauty that looked as if it had been there for a long time. I wandered back to my outdoor table and waited for my pizza. It arrived in a few minutes, and as soon as I took a look, I knew it was a serious pie.
The snow-white mozzarella had little brown blisters, and the crust had charred brown and black spots. I wished the crust had a little more salt in it, and it was a little too crisp for my taste, but this was a fine pie, nonetheless. I'd been living in New York for thirty years as an adult, and somehow Tosca (or whatever it had been called before this) had escaped my attention. My loss.
Tosca Cafe Address: 4038 East Tremont Avenue (at the corner of Miles Avenue), Bronx NY 10465 Phone: 718-239-3300 Rating: Related:Tosca review (1/3/2006)
I arrived at Mario's one scorching summer day just before noon, weak from hunger. I looked at the menu, full of classic red-sauce, Neapolitan-American items. There was no pizza to be found. My waiter came over. "Do you still serve pizza here?" I asked. "Yeah, we got it," he said grudgingly, the way a Cadillac dealer might admit he also sells Hondas. I ordered my usual (large half sausage, half plain) and reflected on my rather curious interaction with the waiter. I remembered that when I ate at Mario's a few years ago, for a story I was working on, the fifth-generation owner, Joseph Migliucci, discouraged people from ordering just pizza at his fine-dining establishment. The pizza arrived ten minutes later. It was a superior pie: crisp, slightly bready crust; terrific fennel-flecked sausage from a local butcher; fresh basil; a sprinkling of Parmigiano-Reggiano; and a simple tomato sauce not overburdened with unnecessary herbs and spices. It would have been a world-class pie if the fresh mozzarella I had asked for (I know they make mozzarella every day at the restaurant for other dishes on the menu) had found its way to the pie. The aged mozzarella was obviously high quality and full fat, but the yellow color gave away its age.
I spotted Migliucci sitting on a chair just in front of the swinging kitchen door. I asked, "Why do you make it so hard to order pizza? You make a great pie here." He smiled and said, "It is good, isn't it? I don't have a problem with people ordering pizza at lunch, but at dinner it's hard to make money if people are occupying tables for four ordering pizza and soft drinks." Migliucci then went on to tell me that his great grandparents had opened Mario's on Arthur Avenue in 1919, serving pizza and other dishes from their native Naples. Before that, they had owned pizzeria/restaurants in East Harlem, Naples, and that hotbed of pizza activity, Cairo, Egypt. Migliucci's father once told the New York Times's Craig Claiborne, "My grandparents left Naples with my father in the early 1900s and opened the first Italian restaurant ever in Egypt. It was a success, but my father became restless and decided to come to America."
As I was leaving I implored Migliucci to restore pizza to its rightful place on his menu. He laughed. "You know what happened. The chains gave pizza a bad name. They open pizza shops. We're a pizzeria, not a pizza shop." So I'll let you in on one of the worst-kept secrets in pizzadom: They have excellent pizza at Mario's, the reluctant pizzeria.
Mario's
Location: 2342 Arthur Avenue (between 184th and 186th streets), The Bronx NY 10458 [Map] Phone: 718-584-1188 Rating:
In planning Pizza: A Slice of Heaven, I originally envisioned a chapter on "beach pizza," for pizzerias found along the boardwalk in places such as Ocean City and Atlantic City in New Jersey, and Rehobeth, Delaware. I eventually nixed the idea because my research revealed that most beach pizza is pretty awful (there are exceptions along the Jersey Shore that are written about elsewhere in the book). Another exception that I had to include is New Park Pizzeria, located in Howard Beach, Queens, right next to Kennedy Airport.
New Park Pizzeria is the paradigm of a beach pizza joint. You order at the counter and take your slices to the outdoor eating patio in front of the restaurant. There's a small heated room in the back where people eat their pizza in cold weather. The guys behind the counter are invariably teenagers from the 'hood, and they wear their baseball caps backward, but don't be alarmed; they're reasonably friendly. The pizza comes out of a super-hot gas oven that produces charred-on-the-bottom, crisp-crusted slices topped with just a little too much good commercial mozzarella.
New Park Pizzeria
Address: 156-71 Cross Bay Boulevard, Howard Beach NY (at the corner of 157th Street; map) Phone: 718-641-3082
Note: Many people know New Park Pizzeria as the scene of a really ugly racial incident in December 1986, when four black men came to the pizzeria looking for a phone to call a service station because their car had broken down. They were chased out of the pizzeria by a group of white teenagers and beaten with baseball bats and a tree limb. They ran onto the nearby Shore Parkway, where one of them was killed by a passing car. That was years ago, and though I don't think the NAACP is holding any meetings in Howard Beach, nobody working in the pizzeria was ever accused of any wrongdoing.
Wassup, Homeslices? Adam here. I arrived at at Serious Eats–Slice world headquarters this morning, sat down at my desk, and before I could do even a lick of work, the bossman, Ed Levine, started badgering me: "Whatever happened to the excerpts of my pizza book you were posting? I haven't seen one on Slice in ages."
City officials know a good slice of pizza when they see one: The street in front of Louie and Ernie's has been renamed Ernie Ottuso Square, after one of the owners. A Louie and Ernie's slice is a diminutive triangle of pizza pleasure in which grated cheese and full-cream mozzarella sparingly cover a thin-enough crust. Also worth the calories and the trip are the fried calzone and the white pie, both made with ricotta. The white pie, in particular, is Louie and Ernie's pièce de résistance. The overflowing ricotta was so sweet and creamy I could have had it for dessert. The mozzarella on it was clearly full cream, and there wasn't even a hint of tomato sauce on it. This was serious pizza. A word to the wise: Don't arrive too late. The pizzeria ends its day when the dough is gone. "We run out, we run out ... that's it," says John Tiso, an owner. "We close."
LOUIE AND ERNIE'S Phone: 718-829-6230 Location: 1300 Crosby Avenue (at Waterbury Avenue), Bronx NY 10461 [map] Rating:
Hey, folks: I just published a story about the original French bread pizza joint on Serious Eats....
It was late last Friday evening and I was on the phone with my girlfriend's sister after having recently arrived in Ithaca, New York, for a weekend visit. "Drive up to campus, and ask any student. Everybody knows where it is," Sis said. "We'll meet you there in 15 minutes."
Armed with that tip and a simple map drawn by the motel desk clerk, we set out on the snowy streets hoping the pavement had been sufficiently cleared of last week's slippery precip. Our destination: The Hot Truck.Continue reading 'The Hot Truck'
Words and Photographs by Steve F. | This transplant from the East Coast says, "Cincinnati is a ghost town for pizza." Ask the locals, and they'll vehemently disagree—because they grew up with their favorite pizza chains, such as LaRosa's and Donato's. These local chains offer pizza that is one step above microwaveable pizza. Simply put, it's junk. However, if you really explore Cincinnati, there is one worthy mention for Slice, and that's Dewey's Pizza.
Dewey's has the closest thing to New York–style pizza in Cincinnati, with a couple of glaring differences. First off: No slices. Yup, it's whole pies or nothing. Second: Dewey's is a polished, stylish restaurant, a big difference from most New York pizza joints. But is that so bad? I don't think so. Dewey's looks sharp, inside and out. Inside, there are big windows that fully expose the ovens and prep counters. Cool!
Let's get to the pizza. I always get the large pie (17-inch) for $11.95. I make sure to order it well done, which gives it that crisp dough and a slight crunch—otherwise, Dewey's usually bakes it on the light side, and it gets a bit too chewy and doughy. The cheese is 100 percent mozzarella (the only place in Cincy that uses all mozzarella on its pies). The red sauce is bit spicy, and not as sweet as I like it, but it's tasty nonetheless.
Overall, Dewey's is a damn good pie, and if you grade on a curve for the Midwest, then Dewey's is a fantastic pie.
I grew up in Poughkeepsie, New York (great pizza there!), then moved to Long Island (great pizza!), then Philadelphia (great pizza!), and now Cincinnati (crappy pizza!). I'm extremely thankful for Dewey's—a solid pizza place that keeps this ghost town haunted.
Posted by Adam Kuban, January 25, 2007 at 12:09 PM
Robert Sietsema of the Village Voice hits Cronkite, the new pizzeria from Fornino owner Michael Ayoub. Sietsema notes the fact that the crowd is sparse despite the phenomenal pies:
There's nothing wrong with the pizzas, though, which come in two sizes: a 10-inch individual pie, and a 16-inch regular pie that easily feeds two. Made in a gas-fired brick oven, the crust is similar to what one finds in Central Italy: thinner than the standard American pie, with crunchy areas competing with squishier ones. Our favorite that first evening was Tartufo, the most expensive pie on the menu ($36/$51). The pizza melts three cheeses—fresh mozzarella, ricotta, and fontina—as a creamy platform for a blizzard of shaved black truffles, which look like wood ash on white snow. Very Japanese, visually speaking. The pungent odor assails the nostrils, and the truffles leave a miraculous aftertaste that persists for hours. Do I love this pizza? You bet! It would be worth it to go hungry for the day to split this gem with a friend. There is a problem devouring it first thing in the meal: Nothing else on the menu can top it.
If you don't want to get that spendy, he says, six other pizzas he and his tasting party tried were "spectacular," with the exception of the one topped with pesto, which, he says, is "like a toxic chemical spill on your pie."
Posted by correspondent, January 16, 2007 at 3:42 PM
DISPATCH AND PHOTOS BY DAVE, Special to Slice .::. No discussion of New York-style pizza around Rochester, New York, would be complete without taking into account Cam’s New York Pizzeria, if for no other reason than that it's one of only two pizzerias in the area (Sal’s New York Pizzeria on Monroe Avenue being the other) whose name expressly claims it to serve "New York" pizza. That aside, it’s still worth a mention for serving up pizza that, while more of an approximation than a classic example of the New York style, is pretty good in its own right.
Cam’s is, dare I say it, a chain (stay with me here) that has slowly grown from what I think was its original location on Lyell Avenue in Rochester out to the ’burbs and beyond, with locations now as far away as Watertown to the north and the Finger Lakes to the south. According to its website, each location is independently owned and operated, and each location makes its own dough daily, but in my experience, the results have been pretty consistent from one to the next.
So how is it? It’s good. Very good, even. Although whether it’s "authentic" New York–style pizza is, well, debatable. The crust, while thin (especially by local standards), is a tad thicker than you would get at the typical corner slice joint in New York City, with a chewy breadiness that lacks the exterior crunch that I associate with New York pizza.
Still, that’s hardly cause for complaint, as the texture and flavor of Cam’s crust are what make its pizza so good. It has a fresh, yeasty, breadlike quality, and though not paper thin, it’s thin enough that you can polish off several slices without getting stuffed. The sauce has a lively, tomatoey tang, and the mozzarella isn’t piled on too thick, with the occasional pocket of sauce visible here and there.
The pie pictured here is from the Spencerport location (about 12 miles west of downtown Rochester), which opened a few months ago at the corner of South Union Street and Route 31. Like all Cam’s pizzas, this was cooked in a steel-deck gas oven, resulting in a golden-brown underside with no charring, as you can see in the slightly out-of-focus photo. (If you like your pizza charred, I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere; I wouldn’t recommend asking Cam’s to cook it longer, as you will simply end up with burnt cheese and a dried-out crust.)
CAM'S NEW YORK PIZZERIA Address: Route 31 & 259, Spencerport NY 14559 [map] Phone: 585-349-1040 Website:camsnypizza.com The skinny: Pies come in 14-, 16- (pictured), and 20-inch sizes, and slices are available. By-the-slice or pie, it’ll run you about $1.50 a slice. The Spencerport location is open from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. daily, and till 11 p.m. on weekends. Major credit cards accepted.
Dave is Slice's Upstate New York correspondent. He prefers to go by "just 'Dave'."
DISPATCH AND PHOTOS BY DAVE, Special to Slice .::. New York–style pizza is disappointingly scarce around Rochester, but it can be found. One of the better examples is produced at Main Street Pizza in Brockport, a college town about 20 miles west of the city. Main Street offers thin-crust "NYC Style" or white garlic pizzas, as well as "Traditional Pizza," which is described as "thick crust, zesty sauce with two cheeses," all available by the slice ($1.50) or pie. New York–style pies come in 12-inch, 14-inch, 16-inch, and 18-inch sizes and average out to about $1 a slice.
At its best, Main Street puts out some damn good, authentic New York pizza, with a thin, bready crust and a judicious amount of sauce and chewy mozzarella. I say "at its best" because that's my one complaint: In my half dozen or so visits, Main Street has been somewhat inconsistent. One pie was undercooked and the crust had separated into two layers, with a paper-thin bottom that you could peel away from the other layer of dough stuck to the underside of the cheese. Still, Main Street's pizza has been good enough, often enough, that one bad experience hasn't deterred me from returning.
My most recent pie (pictured, a 16-incher) was above average, though not as nicely charred underneath as the best that I've had there. Like almost all pizzas around here, Main Street's is cooked in a gas-fired, steel-deck oven. Because Brockport is only about an hour from Buffalo, I should mention that the wings are pretty good, too.
MAIN STREET PIZZA Address: 82 Main Street, Brockport NY 14420 [map] Phone: 585-637-8760 Payment: Cash and credit accepted
Dave is Slice's Upstate New York correspondent. He prefers to go by "just 'Dave'."
Posted by Adam Kuban, November 29, 2006 at 9:48 AM
Lucali
Address: 575 Henry Street, Brooklyn NY 11231; Carroll Gardens, b/n Carroll Street and First Place [map] Getting There: F train to Carroll Street Station; walk west to Henry; Lucali is on east side of street, about one-fourth block south of Carroll Cost: Plain pies (14-inch), $17; calzones, $7; cash only The Skinny: Using a gas-assisted wood-fired oven that he built himself, owner-pizzaiolo Mark Iacono lovingly crafts pies inspired by legendary Di Fara proprietor Dom DeMarco—with a similar high-quality three-cheese blend and the signature pour of olive oil.
The New York Times checks in with a review of Lucali, the Carroll Gardens newcomer patterned after Di Fara. And, like Di Fara, Lucali appears in the "$25 and Under" column:
Posted by Adam Kuban, November 13, 2006 at 2:04 PM
Ciccio's Pizza
Address: 207 Avenue U, Brooklyn NY 11223 [map] Phone: 718-372-9695 Hours: M-Sat., 11 a.m. to 9 p.m.; closed Sundays Oven: Gas-fired, steel-deck
Words by Luke Weiss, Special to Slice | The first time I went to Ciccio's was about seven years ago. My father had told me about a place he had been to in the '80s that served only slices—no calzones, no heroes, nothing but slices. I took the F down to Avenue U hoping to discover this gem. I walked up and down Avenue U, marking each pizza place I passed. I couldn't find the joint he had mentioned, and, realizing I had to choose, settled on the diminutive storefront of Ciccio's Pizza for my lunch needs.
Bensonhurst is a sparkling neighborhood, the lights from the nail salons glow up and down avenue U, and there always seems to be some sort of street decorations stretching between the light fixtures. It smells incredible as you pass the Italian delis and sausage markets, but it is the pizza places of the neighborhood that have a truly special feeling. You are likely to see grandma (she makes the sauce) sitting in a corner huddled over a cane, occasionally spitting some rebuke in Italian at her misbegotten nephews who run the counter.
After two years of preparation, Carroll Gardens newcomer Lucali opened, somewhat fittingly, on Columbus Day. Not long after, the Chowhounders started yapping about it, with most barking their approval. At the urging of Slice reader Mark H., I headed over last night to see what all the fuss was about.
The joint is the creation of Mark Iacono and takes the place of a soda fountain once known for making some of the last real egg creams in Brooklyn. Locals can take comfort, however, in the fact that Mr. Iacono was raised in the neighborhood and still lives around the corner. Not only that, but much of the equipment—including the espresso machine—comes from Leonardo's Pizza, which was sadly replaced by a Dunkin' Donuts around this time last year. The recipes, too, are from the neighborhood, having come from Mr. Iacono's grandma and aunts.
Posted by Adam Kuban, October 15, 2006 at 12:00 PM
Manetta's is in a section of Queens I call the pizza triangle: cornered by Long Island City, Astoria, and Forest Hills. It's also a stone's throw from Silvercup Studios, where they shoot The Sopranos. If Tony and Carmela and Dr. Melfi are in the mood for pizza, they call over to Manetta's. So if your pizza order is backed up at lunch, chances are it's because the cast of The Sopranos has placed an order for 50 pies. Don't complain, if you know what's good for you. You may end up like Adriana or Steve Buscemi's Tony B.
Manetta's owner, Mario Manetta, built his oven with his own two hands, so when I asked how it worked, the pie man working that day said, "Ask the boss. He built it." The oven is in the back of the room you walk into off the street, past the display case of desserts and antipasti and salads.
Mario's pizzas are Roman-style individual pies, ultra crisp and very thin. He uses delectable mozzarella made in the neighborhood at Spatola, and sauce he strains himself from San Marzano tomatoes. Mercifully, he goes fairly light on the cheese, thereby achieving a fine balance on his pies between sauce and cheese and crust.
Manetta's is a full-service Italian restaurant, but I couldn't tell you how the rest of the food is. I've never had anything but the pizza (well, OK, I've also had a piece of pretty good cheesecake and a delicious rice pudding studded with macerated Italian cherries trom Mario's hometown of Monte Casino in Italy).
Manetta's
Address: 10-76 Jackson Avenue, Long Island City NY (Queens, 49th Avenue; map) Phone: 718-786-6171
GREEN DOOR PIZZA Location: The Muslim Quarter, Jerusalem. Getting There: From the Damascus Gate, make the first left off El Wad. Telephone: 02-627-6171 Hours: Fluctuates depending on business. On busy days -- en Shala, Mr. Ali says (Arabic for "G-d willing") -- 7 a.m. to midnight. On slow days, he closes as early as 6 p.m.
Do the time warp: Abu Ali greets visitors to Green Door Pizza from his "pizza pit." After cooking an egg-and-cheese pizza, Mr. Ali coats it with uncooked tomatoes just before serving it.
WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHS BY SELTZERBOY .::.Let's say you've just traveled 5,600 miles, becoming the first person in your family in 2,000 years (give or take a few hundred) to return to your homeland. Would grabbing a pizza be on your mind? It wasn't on mine, either. Alas, duty calls.
We all eat pizza on the road. Not just to see how it measures up; we like to be reminded of home. But this wasn't one of those trips. Surrounded by the beauty and vibrancy of Israel, I never felt like I wasn't home. So I waited until home took its weekly vacation -- on Saturdays, the Jewish Sabbath, Jerusalem grinds to a halt -- to explore the local pizza trade. The only place to do that on Shabbat is the Old City. Aside from the Jewish Quarter and the Western Wall, life there beats as usual.
Holy land: A view of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem's Old City. The Dome of the Rock, Islam's third-holiest site, was built in 691 C.E. Below it is the Western Wall, the only surviving portion of the Second Temple, destroyed by the Romans in 70 C.E.; it is Judaism's holiest site.
Old City is the part of Jerusalem that dates 4,000 years and draws religious pilgrims and curiosity seekers from around the world. It's easy to get lost amid the narrow streets and alleys, each filled with a different story from the city's compelling past. Following the action in this one-square-kilometer town, it's little wonder I ended up deep in the Muslim Quarter -- the largest and liveliest section of the walled city. What's surprising is that with nary a tourist following me, I ended up eating something called Arabic pizza. Much of Old City involves visiting ancient places; in the Muslim Quarter, even everyday life looks probably just as it did when the Ottomans ruled. Except that for most of the Ottoman Empire, pizza didn't even exist.
Not far from the Damascus Gate, Green Door Pizza is a respite from the bustle. Whereas all the action in the Muslim Quarter takes place on the street ("streets" are about 10 feet wide), the Green Door does its business in an actual sit-down restaurant. It's near the intersection of El Wad and Suq Khan ez-Zeit, but good luck finding any street signs. Most outsiders just call this the Arab shuk, using the Hebrew word for "market." You'll know you've found the right place when you see its large green doors, unmistakable amid the seemingly endless paths of stone.
Down a few steps are a few mismatched plastic tables and chairs. As I enter, an elderly man is eating a whole fish from a frying pan at
Ask any Baltimorean about what makes the Baltimore food scene special, and there is sure to be one answer: Crabs.
.
