We’ve gotten quite a few requests for this place, some going so far as to deem it a “local institution.” Located on the Post Road in the heart of Darien (or at least the middle of Darien), Post Corner has a bit of a long-standing following and—as we’ve been known to do—we’re determined to see if it’s the nostalgia or the pizza that’s keeping them in business.

Establishment. Post Corner Pizza is a family staple and borderline landmark in Darien with a menu that goes far beyond pizza. A Greek diner ambiance complete with urns on display, an indoor adobe tiled roof and ample seating set the stage for a hauntingly familiar dining experience complete with quick service and a family-friendly atmosphere. In past visits, Post Corner has been jam packed on a pretty consistent basis (especially on a Friday night) however, we were met with quite the opposite, as the dining room was pretty dead when we stopped by and flat-out empty once we left (don’t expect this to be the norm). Post Corner attracts many fervent regulars with children in tow with its deep, Greek-influenced menu featuring salads, sandwiches and grinders, kabobs, souvlaki, moussaka, gyros, and other fun-to-say items in addition to Greek-style pan pizza. Also, if it seems like we just cut-and-pasted our Establishment blurb for Hope Pizza in Stamford, it’s because we pretty much did.

Pizza. Post Corner Pizza regulars often claim that this is the best pizza in Darien and rightfully so, as Darien isn’t exactly the most competitive of pizza hotbeds. Still, this is not a bad pie. Our pizza of choice was a large, bacon and green peppers number, infuriatingly cut up into stupid square slices.

Founded on a spongy, buttery, unmistakenly Greek pan crust, this pie delivers what we’d expect with a few shortcomings in the texture department. For one, it was greasy even for a Greek pie (blame it on the bacon if you’d like), sapping the overall product of its crispness despite the crust’s beautiful golden brown color, forcing us to go the dreaded knife and fork route on some slices. The sauce was pretty tasty, but it felt thick and cooked down, again taking away from the overall texture with an unwelcome clunkiness. Speaking of clunkiness, avid readers might recall our fiery opposition to square slices which incidentally, has not changed. Pulling the pizza together however, was a deliciously creamy and stringy blend of bright, fresh-tasting cheeses that did their damndest to salvage this markedly heavy pie. Additionally, the toppings—while partially to blame for the pizza’s texture issues—were doled out generously and absolutely delivered in the flavor department (as bacon tends to do).

The bottom line. While Post Corner might chalk up its following to having the best pizza in Darien, it’s much more plausible that their popularity has something to do with the personable, family-friendly environment they foster, as the pizza’s just north of mediocre.

Establishment: 23/30
Pizza: 20/30
Hits the Spot: 7.0/10
Large Cheese: $13.00

We went to Pepe’s shortly after we concluded our tour of Stamford, we ate at Modern shortly after that, and then—inexplicably—we waited another six months to tackle the final piece of New Haven’s holy pizza triumvirate, Sally’s. Yes, we finally braved the arctic winds waiting in yet another out-on-the-street New Haven line to round out our tour of the city’s heaviest hitters.

Establishment. As it turns out, New Haven pizzerias are all kind of the same: minimal parking, old coal-fired ovens, and long lines in the street (which can be charming on a summer evening, but painful and borderline infuriating in the dead of winter). Sally’s is no exception, with its requisite long, dimly lit, wood-paneled, ceramic-tiled, drop-ceilinged dining room spattered with pictures and articles attesting to its fame and/or Italian-ness (apparently, Ol’ Blue Eyes was a big fan of the place).

(sorry for the lack of photos, the garish, stained glass “PIZZA” bar lamps blew out all of our good interior shots).

Once we found our way inside, thawed, and were seated (no small feat in its own right) we waited a good 10 minutes to be helped, and another 35 or so to be served. In this time, we witnessed an obvious regular strut in and feed his family of six, a family of eight leave in absolute disgust after their one hour wait yielded no pizza whatsoever, and the brazen neglect of the time-honored “I’ll be with you in a sec” promise about 40 times over. But Sally’s (and the rest of the city in general) isn’t known for its kindly interest and goodwill, especially toward newbies like us; we never expected much. The menu is more or less a list of toppings, among which are the New Haven-specific white clam pie and an extraordinary emphasis on mozzarella being considered a topping. Oh, New Haven, you and your disconcerting ways.

Pizza. Once we absorbed the horrible one-two punch of waiting and terrible, impersonal service, we sunk our teeth into a medium mozz (“mootz”) pie topped with sausage. That’s two toppings if you’re keeping track.

The crust was less chewy than expected, but it was super thin, yeasty, and blistered with a hearty New Haven char in places (and burnt to a friggin’ crisp in others), making for a markedly unique taste and fingers resembling those of a chimney sweep. Crust aside, the sauce was the true crown jewel of this pizza with a strong, well-seasoned tanginess and the chunky texture of whole crushed tomatoes. The mozzarella, while somewhat of a outcast in New Haven, was superbly creamy and stringy. Further, it brought the pie together both physically and in terms of flavor, mellowing the sharp flavors of the sauce and making us wonder why it’s so much of an afterthought in these parts—without it, this is just a big cracker with sauce.

We weren’t particularly crazy about the sausage topping as Sally’s uses sliced sausage rather than crumbled, which tends to shrivel into little grease-filled cups in the oven. Plus, it tasted pretty bad. Also, as is the case with ultra thin pies like these, it cools ultra fast; even when you put it away with ravenous Pizza Tour speed, your last slice is just south of tepid. That said, we can see how Sally’s simple core product keeps people coming back, especially favored regulars that can traipse right in and throw back a few well-rounded, iconic pies while suckers like us play the waiting game on the street.

The bottom line. Sally’s certainly earns its reputation as one of the big three with a clean, textbook New Haven pie, but the unwritten rules here will leave you scratching your head.

Establishment: 13/30
Pizza: 21/30
Hits the Spot: 5.0/10
Large Cheese: $15.80 (18")

Nonna’s has been taunting us for months to the point that we even tried to hold off on the Stamford Pizza Tournament back in July until they opened, but to no avail. While they may have not made our summer deadline, Nonna’s is now open and serving pizza. And where there is pizza to be eaten, so too is the Stamford Pizza Tour.

Establishment. Nonna’s is a pretty by-the-book pizzeria, sporting a takeout counter, a display case full of specialty heat-to-order slices, and a pretty sizeable dining area for eat-in parties as well. The atmosphere is a bit hackneyed and confusing, melding the otherwise unfamiliar themes of classy Italian plates and artwork hanging from the walls and Hewey Lewis and the News blaring out of the speakers above them, but we were comfortable nonetheless.

Seating was ample and almost excessively private due to the cubicle-styled divider splitting the dining room in half. As a result, we felt just short of neglected, staring into our empty drink glasses as our waitress went sprinting by, stopping only to take our order (she dropped the bill in full stride). Nonna’s menu is very broad, featuring Italian specialties, pasta specials, dinner specials (countless iterations of chicken, eggplant, veal, and seafood dishes), soups, salads, sandwiches and wraps. Interestingly enough, conspicuously absent from the first menu we received was pizza, but rest assured, Nonna’s carries it in the form of traditional, gourmet, and Sicilian-style pies complemented by a charming offering of calzones and other dough-rolled, pizza-like delicacies.

Pizza. For all the knocks we had on this establishment, the pizza itself is pretty good. Our pies of choice, a plain pizza and a gourmet spicy chicken (sauceless, topped with chicken breast and sautéed hot cherry peppers) came out screaming hot (albeit not at the same time…which was weird) and were considerably larger than advertised.

The crust was dense, chewy, and flavorful with an excellent crispy bite and surprisingly faint brick oven char. We were pretty split on the sauce, as it had the clean natural sweetness and tang we’ve come to expect and was portioned almost perfectly, but it was starkly underseasoned and couldn’t exactly wow us with its bright subtleties. As advertised on the door, Nonna’s uses a healthy amount of Grande brand mozzarella cheese which, with its a creamy flavor and stringy snap, complemented this pie very well.

Nonna’s really sets itself apart with its dedication to freakishly overtopping its pizzas with excellent gourmet toppings to the point that it’s almost comical but still greatly appreciated. Every square inch of our spicy chicken pie was covered with chicken and red peppers, and was packed to the brim with amazing flavor for a slow, spicy burn in conjunction with the smooth, creamy cheese. All in all, a very good pie.

The bottom line. If you can get past the inherent strangeness of the service atmosphere as a whole, Nonna’s certainly delivers with a very big, very good pizza, and very flavorful gourmet topping options.

Establishment: 19/30
Pizza: 23/30
Hits the Spot: 7.8/10
Large Cheese: $12.95

Flying their unmistakable neon banner over Bull’s Head, Coalhouse Pizza is one of the newest pizza establishments in Stamford and the subject of many, many requests; some glowing recommendations, some just out of curiosity.

The Pizza Tour returned to Stamford with a vengeance on our excursion to Coalhouse, toting along an absurd number of guest judges including fellow Stamford bloggers, JR of Streets of Stamford and Kate of Stamford Notes, as well as about six other disciples of the Tour clawing themselves back onto the bandwagon.

Establishment. Coalhouse Pizza sports a snazzy blues- and jazz-inspired feel that, once you get over how wildly out of place it is in Stamford, is rather unique and charming, albeit approaching obnoxious levels of trendiness. Prints of blues and jazz icons dot the walls and cover the tables while their sounds flood the warmly lit restaurant for some top-notch ambiance. Unfortunately for us (and fortunately for them) the place was absolutely jam-packed, so we had to wait outside in the Arctic tundra and take what we could get table-wise (which is mostly our fault for not realizing that the triumphant return of the Stamford Pizza Tour would draw such a crowd of guest judges). That said, Coalhouse is set up well enough for moderately large crowds and was very accommodating to our stupidly large party, equipped with a couple outdoor propane heaters and serving us rather quickly once we got inside. The menu at Coalhouse includes hearty salads, a limited selection of pasta dishes and sandwiches, and a conversely extensive selection of ribs and chicken wings in addition to a very wide spectrum of specialty pizza offerings and high-quality, gourmet topping options.

Pizza. Once we got settled, we ordered a large Blue Skies (marinara, mozzarella, basil, olive oil—a margarita pie) and a large Freight Train (margarita + crumbled sweet Italian sausage, onions, and mixed peppers).

As expected, the pies were extremely thin and unfortunately, considerably smaller than their 16" billing would lead us to believe. The crust had a distinct yeasty flavor, a surprisingly slight char, and very little bite relative to the coal-fired pies we’ve sampled in New Haven. The sauce was in rather short supply on such a delicate pizza, but had the natural tang and sweetness of crushed tomatoes and was very well-seasoned. As for the cheese: what cheese? While Coalhouse prides itself on their use of “preservative-free, fior di latte mozzarella” (cow mozzarella for us laymen), and while it tasted very fresh and delicious, there wasn’t nearly enough of it on any of our pies to make a difference. The biggest knock we could find on this pie (and it’s pretty big) was the texture. This pizza was pretty floppy and insubstantial, especially for a coal-fired pie, lacking the characteristic crispness and char that we’ve come to expect from such pizzas.

As such, this pizza absolutely needs toppings, but boy do they deliver with some top-shelf ingredients. We were very happy with our sausage, pepper, and onion number featuring delicious, bright, and fresh flavors that set this pie (and to an extent, this restaurant) apart from other, less ingredient-conscious ones.

The bottom line. Coalhouse Pizza, the trendy new kid in town, clearly has the best of intentions with its use of quality ingredients and close attention to detail, but has yet to work out all of the kinks and live up to its neon-soaked hype.

Establishment: 22/30
Pizza: 19/30
Hits the Spot: 5.4/10
Large Cheese: $12.75

Located in the heart of Greenwich on fancy pants Greenwich Ave., Pizza Factory is a comfortable eatery amidst couture shops, high-end jewelers, and purveyors of luxury stemware, as well as countless other places where people who are better than us buy things. This restaurant also serves as somewhat of a teen hangout during the week (which pisses off said fancy pantses) and allegedly cranks out good pizzas by the gross. Ideally, pies would all come out on a conveyor belt and be assembled by robots, but it’s not that kind of factory.

Establishment. What struck us first upon entering Pizza Factory is the incredibly eclectic decor, seemingly in spite of the overwhelming stuffiness that usually comes with being on Greenwich Ave. Decked out in antique road signage and promotional tin doodads, this restaurant comes across as a comfortable little nook complete with paneled walls, creaky wooden furniture, and plenty of low-hanging tavern lights. Our server was quick to take our order, extra personable, and very helpful with suggestions, but the food came out slower than usual (which we’d normally attribute to the crowd, but this place was dead).

Being a pizza factory and all, the menu carries but a few non-pizza options ranging from hearty, cheese-filled salads to sandwiches (paninis and traditional wedges) and not a whole lot else. The menu’s crown jewel is, quite unsurprisingly, the litany of pizza options including a huge list of specialty pies (less traditional Mexican, Chicken Burrito, and Hawaiian, for instance), gourmet pies (classic margarita, pesto-having, and other Italian-sounding options), a virtual arsenal of unique, one-off toppings, and the unique (at least around these parts) offering of either deep dish or thin crust.

Pizza. Our pie du jour was Pizza Factory’s CBT, or chicken, bacon, and fresh, sliced tomato in it’s thin crust incarnation.

How about that? Founded on a crispy, pan-style thin crust, this pie had an overwhelmingly chalky, breadstick-like texture with a muted yeasty flavor to match. The crispness was welcome, however, and a stark contrast to the creamy, stringy, subtle presence of the delicious mozzarella provided by our good friends in Wisconsin at Grande cheese. The sauce was underwhelming for the most part and clearly under proportioned but seemed a bit bland when isolated. We wouldn’t be at all surprised if this lackluster profile was intentional as this restaurant doesn’t seem too keen on serving plain pies.

Pizza Factory clearly thrives on its toppings and specialty offerings, and for good reason. Our CBT came with a healthy amount of chicken—breaded, seasoned, thinly sliced cutlet strips, to be specific—as well as plenty of crispy, salty bacon pieces and the fresh tang of sliced tomatoes (which were surprisingly bright and flavorful considering it’s December). This combination was clearly thought out (take notice, everyone who puts every available meat on a pie and calls it “special”) and very complementary to the overall flavor of the pie. That said, the pizza staples that we hold near and dear—cheese, sauce, and crust—were solid, but nothing extraordinary. They act as a vehicle to hold the pizza together, carry specialty toppings into your gullet, and little else.

The bottom line. Pizza Factory is just that, a quirkily decorated establishment that bangs out all sorts of specialty pies,  flavorful ingredients, and unique combinations that act as accessories on a solid, but underwhelming core of a pizza.

Establishment: 16/30
Pizza: 18/30
Hits the Spot: 5.7/10
Large Cheese: $14.49