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

Located on the Post Road E. Putnam Ave. in Greenwich, CT, Pizza Post has been around forever (or since 1972). Tucked away behind the fluorescent wonderland that is Gofer Ice Cream, this little pizzeria carries a following evidenced by its fiery clientele. In fact, we ran into someone there who readily admitted that her Friday night pizza run was the fourth time she’d ordered from Pizza Post that week and that the pie was nothing shy of the best. Yet, as we do with all blind loyalties, we’re determined to find out if this claim is the real deal or just Colony-grade hooey.

Establishment. Pizza Post is a very tiny dine-in establishment with all of the low-lit, hardcover menu wielding class of a fancy restaurant and about an eighth of the space that its oven really needs to keep from sweating everybody out. In fact, we had to remodel the place a bit—our table was inexplicably jammed right up against the adjacent diners’ backs—just to sit down. Even then, we were pretty uncomfortably situated back-to-back with the restaurant’s diehard patrons who couldn’t bring themselves to order to-go. That said, the wait staff seems to have a very good rapport with these regular customers, unfortunately we can’t say the same for new customers carrying scorecards like ourselves, as we were flat out ignored for a good 10 minutes after sitting ourselves down and service was nothing short of sporadic throughout the rest of the meal. Aside from that battery of unpleasantness, we can say that this undersized eatery was very clean (likely because it can’t take more than 3 minutes to tidy up) and the menu was lengthy with traditional Italian appetizers, dinners, soups, and salads, as well as a selection of traditional wedge-style sandwiches, regionally-named panini specialty sandwiches, and the unspeakably lame offering of what Pizza Post dubs “pastabilities.” Of course, this restaurant also offers an array of traditional and specialty pizzas, offered with both traditional and “extra thick” crust variations as well as a healthy selection of toppings.

Pizza. Our pie of choice for the evening was the “Dante’s Inferno” pie topped with hot cherry peppers, fried chicken, mozzarella, and tomato sauce—for the most part, a pizza with chicken and peppers on it.

The crust was puffy but superbly crisp and dense, achieving an excellent balance of bite and texture with a good yeasty flavor. The sauce, while a bit scarce, was simple but good, combining the slight bitterness and natural sweetness of the tomato with minimal seasoning for a subtle taste that didn’t overpower (or overly impress). The cheese was nothing short of fantastic, with a smooth, silky texture and satisfying snap that complemented its creamy, salty profile very well and had us grabbing for the strings that each piping hot slice left in its wake. Unfortunately, the pie itself was thrown off a bit by the relatively dry edges and unwarranted lack of sauce and cheese across the pizza, making each slice less and less palatable as one nears the inch-wide, cheeseless abyss waiting the each end. Additionally, the ingredients were spattered almost haphazardly across the pie (one slice had no more than a single piece of chicken on it) and added very little to the overall taste. That being said, this was a very good pizza with only but a few deal breaking flaws.

The bottom line. This restaurant’s fervent following is somewhat warranted, as their product is a very good one; however, that unfortunately comes hand-in-hand with lukewarm service and a hotter-than-hell dining room that left us torn on the place as a whole.

Establishment: 18/30
Pizza: 21/30
Hits the Spot: 7.0/10
Large Cheese: $12.25

Located in pistol-wavin’ New Haven, Connecticut, the self-proclaimed pizza capital of the world, Modern Apizza brandishes a big, old, coal-fired brick oven and a street-filling queue that rivals both the oven’s size and age. Often mentioned in the same breath as New Haven’s iconic Pepe’s and Sally’s, Modern Apizza claims to have served the best pizza and calzone in town since 1934 and conveniently so, we’ve got the chops to test that very claim.

Establishment. Modern Apizza has the familiar ambiance of a wood-paneled den circa 1973 with a line stretching into the street on a typical Friday night (apparently a prerequisite for New Haven pizzerias) and a severe lack of parking. Framed by wretched Red Sox memorabilia, this restaurant offers a quick glimpse of its oversized coal-fired oven at the front counter amongst a thorough spackling of superfluous chowderhead propaganda. Misguided loyalties aside, Modern is otherwise marginally comfortable (cozy like a cafe…), albeit being a bit outdated and tremendously cramped (…or cozy like a basement). The service somehow managed to be personable and quick as well as snippy and mind-numbingly stupid, unable to answer simple questions like, “how long is the wait?” or “what is your best pizza?” and inexplicably throwing down full glasses of water on adjacent tables, splashing our party in the process. Modern’s menu consists of a limited variety of Italian appetizers and entrees, as well as sandwiches and calzones in addition to traditional apizzas, apizza specialties including crabmeat, clam, tuna, and both Italian and Veggie “Bomb” variants, and the infuriating overuse of the locally accepted term “apizza.”

Pizza. This pizza (or apizza, rather) did not exactly blow us away. In fact, it was quite average in light of what New Haven has offered up thus far. Founded on an oven-blistered, chewy, and uncharacteristically floppy crust, this (a)pizza was incredibly cumbersome and sloppy to eat while being (almost perplexingly) perfectly thin. The sauce was very simple, lightly seasoned and carrying the slight sweetness and unmistakable tang of crushed tomatoes. Unfortunately, it was in severely short supply and was thoroughly masked by the salty notes and golden brown smokiness of the high quality cheese that topped it. Further muted was the sauce in the presence of our toppings of choice: average but salty sausage and boring, flavorless, bring-nothing-to-the-table, waste-of-a-topping mushrooms. The problem with this pie was balance: an overpoweringly bad texture, a virtually dry crust, and overportioned cheese that killed the clean subtleties of an otherwise good sauce combined to create an average (a)pizza and proof that a coal-fired oven located in New Haven, CT does not necessarily spit out good pies.

The bottom line. While New Haven-style by definition, Modern’s haphazard, off-kilter “apizza” does not exhibit the unique qualities of a true New Haven pie, let alone those of a good one.

Establishment: 16/30
Pizza: 17/30
Hits the Spot: 6.5/10
Large Cheese: $14.00

It seemed like the only way to reboot the Pizza Tour was to head north and try out the real heavy-hitters in New Haven. Often touted as the world’s best, New Haven-style pizza is in a world of it’s own, surrounded by local mythologies, mind numbingly un-Italian pronunciations, and cult-like followings not unlike that of Stamford’s own Colony Grill. Fortunately, we know that some landmark pizzerias don’t live up to the hype, and we were determined to see if the iconic Pepe’s was really any different.

Establishment. Driving up to Pepe’s, we got some immediate exposure to that hype by taking a look at the line that flooded out onto Wooster Street. After no less than a 30 minute wait on a fortunately temperate summer night outside the New Haven landmark, we were ushered into Pepe’s large but somehow still cramped dining room to our brass-numbered table (table 6 if you’re interested), promptly given menus, and left to our own devices to figure out what was good. Having done our homework, we swiftly picked out their famed white clam pie (without mozzarella) as well as a red-sauced mozzarella pizza (not “plain,” mind you), fearing the consequences of not knowing what we wanted by the time the evil waiter came around. Fortunately, our server was more than accommodating and we had nothing to worry about as they proceeded to throw our pizzas of choice into their double wide trailer-sized, coal-fired oven. What’s more, they also answer their phones, aren’t cash only, and managed to get those pizzas to us pretty good time, albeit while crudely stacking them atop one another en route to the table.

Pizza. We’re usually pretty hesitant to fall into the general consensus, but this truly is one good pizza. Pepe’s unique New Haven-style pie is founded on a extravagantly chewy and oven-charred crust that looks thin, but carries the character and bite of a robust thick crust, giving your mouth quite a workout all the while. Their red sauce is chunky and tangy, with hints of natural sweetness and a big, bold texture complemented by a near-perfect array of traditional Italian flavors and seasoning. Pepe’s uses a very smooth, stringy mozzarella, with a delightful snap and salty notes that complemented the red pie well, but certainly would have been overkill on the already salty white clam number. Speaking of which, our white clam pie was likewise packed with flavors and overwhelmingly so, revolving around a plentiful selection of the clammiest clams that ever clammed and a blatant smothering of incredibly fragrant garlic. The white sauce was barely noticeable underneath these unmistakable tastes, but as you can probably tell, this was likely for the better. The only knock on this pizza is the spastic way it’s cut into all sorts of shapes and sizes—big wedges, small wedges, strips, and the like—putting the traditional Greek “stupid square slice” method to shame for no apparent reason. While the white clam dynasty that seems to rule Wooster Street didn’t quite win us over (most of us thought the red pie was vastly superior), it’s clear why Pepe’s has such a following in New Haven and beyond.

The bottom line. Pepe’s has an utterly unique product that, as much as it pains us to say it, very much lives up to its hype. It’s also better than Colony.

Establishment: 18/30
Pizza: 25/30
Hits the Spot: 8.5/10
Large Cheese: $15.10 (18")

Atlantic Pizza was once a takeout-only pizzeria located in the heart of downtown Stamford. Fortunately, their brand new dining room was more than hospitable to our large party of five.

Establishment. The beautiful new dining area was spacious and accommodating, but if Michael's parking was nothing short of abysmal, Atlantic's parking was simply nonexistent. Otherwise, Atlantic Pizza is a fine establishment with good service, ample seating, and a phenomenal menu. However, the restaurant atmosphere seemed a bit manufactured and antiseptic, without the soul of a true small town pizzeria.

Pizza. We all agree that Atlantic Pizza House has a good product. Unfortunately, there was no clear consensus on what made it good. Crust, cheese, and sauce received good to excellent marks across the board while texture was almost unanimously derided. We'd venture to say that this may have something to do with the asinine practice of cutting a circular pizza pie into squares rather than conventional slices (like, you know, a pie), but the jury's still out. This haphazard cutting technique has a tendency to provoke considerable ingredient slip as well, so yeah...don't do that.

The bottom line. Atlantic Pizza is a Stamford mainstay, but meddling little details get in the way of what is an otherwise good product.

Establishment: 20/30
Pizza: 21/30
Hits the Spot: 5/10
Large Cheese: $10.75

None of our five (five!) participating reviewers had ever been to Michael's before The Tour, so we had no idea what to expect after pulling it from the hat. You'll find that we were pleasantly surprised with both the establishment and the pizza that Michael's had to offer.

Establishment. The restaurant was spacious enough to accommodate our relatively large party however, it was quite a difficult task to make our way into the restaurant as parking was nothing short of abysmal. All other aspects of this establishment were easily above average, from the warm table service to the atmosphere as a whole.

Pizza. Michael's product is very good. The crust was crispy and flavorful, the cheese was above average and the pie remained piping hot throughout the meal. The sauce was overly abundant and left something to be desired in the flavor department as well. Texture suffered accordingly and the toppings (sausage) were sub-par at best but overall, the basic elements of good pizza were executed very well.

The bottom line. Michael's was a pleasant surprise all around but the parking situation might not win over anyone without a moped.

Establishment: 22/30
Pizza: 22/30
Hits the Spot: 9/10
Large Cheese: $11.50

I'd like to preface this review by noting that Belltown Pizza is located a few hundred feet from Belltown Park. Countless little league baseball games and summer camps emanate from the park on a daily basis all throughout the summer, and there's something to be said about pizza-by-the-slice and a cold soda after standing outside for 4 hours on a scorching hot day. Unfortunately, extreme dehydration and hunger may be the only things keeping Belltown in business because their pizza is not doing them any favors.

Establishment. The restaurant is very small and very cold. There is no bathroom and the dining area is marginally passable as one if there are more than two parties eating. However, the restaurant is open relatively late and the service is on par with any decent pizza parlor in the area, so that's good. The menu is also fairly diverse, offering Sicilian and conventional style pizzas with a wealth of topping selections. Again, that's good.

Pizza. Here's where it gets considerably less good. The pizza came out of the oven freakishly hot and stayed as such for approximately 28 seconds. The crust felt undercooked, the sauce was largely flavorless (albeit abundant), and the cheese slid clear off each slice before congealing into an inedible mess in the aforementioned 28 second window. The toppings (mushrooms and meatballs) were the highlight of Belltown's product when they were coaxed into staying on the pizza. *Judge Dan's opinion differed from Judge Elliot and Judge Scott's opinions in that he thought the pizza wasn't half bad.

The bottom line. Belltown offers a mediocre product that quickly cools to an outright bad one.
Establishment: 15/30
Pizza: 16/30
Hits the Spot: 6/10
Large Cheese: $10.95