My manias tend to create lists, and T. Anthony's has been on my pizza list for a couple of years. Multiple trusted sources named it when I was scouring the city for thin-crust and New York–style pizza. When I finally tried it, I made the mistake of going sober. It was one of the greasiest pizzas I've had in years.
While it was excessively greasy, the crust was a strength. The dough is hand stretched. Crackling walls line the interior pockets of the bubbled up cornicione and there is good charring in spots. It sports a nice crumb and chew, but about a third of the way down from the rim of the pie, the crust becomes completely flimsy. The only folding that could happen with this slice is tip to end-crust, because even folded in half it's gonna flop.
Plain cheese is safer than pepperoni, which renders out so much fat that the slice becomes a complete oil slick. I wanted to blame the pepperonis for turning both sides of the pie orange, but I think the grade of cheese doesn't help. T. Anthony's uses a blend of part-skim and whole milk cheese, so unless my slice got topped with a handful of whole milk, on multiple visits, then it must be the quality of the cheese that causes it to break and grease up the place.
The sauce, also made in-house, has some peppery zip to it, and an herb finish. The ratio of cheese-to-sauce was heavy on the cheese side. The topping distribution was sporadic and hefty, with a heavy concentration of toppings towards the pizza's center. A structurally unsound move for the T. Anthony's pies.
I had high hopes. So what am I missing here? What is it that advocates of T. Anthony's love, other than it's a late night pizza stop on Comm Ave?
T. Anthony's Pizzeria
All products linked here have been independently selected by our editors. We may earn a commission on purchases, as described in our affiliate policy.