Recently, one third of the Stamford Pizza Tour found itself halfway across the world in the company of two seasoned guest judges and an enthusiastic newbie in search of a pizza to put through the wringer.

As luck would have it, two of the aforementioned guest judges had already logged quite a bit of time on the Barcelona food beat (going so far as to embark on their own, website-less, scorecard-less bravas tour, no less) and were able to point the Tour in the direction of Neapolitan Authentic Pizza, or N.A.P.

Establishment. As is the case with many restaurants in big cities, this place is tiny and the parking is horrendous (to give you an idea, it was a good 3300 mile hike from the car). The most striking thing about this particular locale is its simplicity: the restaurant is clean, the seating is comfortable, and the service is quick. That’s it and that’s all. The menu highlights little other than pizza (check those prices, no complaints here!), offering minimal salad and antipasto options as complements to the eponymous star of the show.

Pizza. Our pies of choice were a classic marinara (tomate, ajo, aceite de oliva, oregano, albahaca—translate it yourselves, kids, this is a cultured blog), a similarly classic Regina (cherry tomatoes, mozzarella de bufala, aceite de oliva, albahaca, parmesano), and a meat-laden heart-stopper that I can’t seem to find on the menu because I think it was a special.

To say the least, these pizzas are all fantastic. Now, it might be the wine talking (for €11, how could we not throw back a bottle…or two) but this pie could really stand up to the best of them. On top of a light and airy, yet perfectly charred crust, this pizza combines some of the best quality ingredients we’ve ever tasted on a pie including rich, delicious cheeses and fresh, house-grown herbs.

The sauce was very light and subtle—both in quantity and taste—which tends to fall into the background, especially up against the richness of a true to form buffalo mozzarella and the phenomenal showcase of Spain’s finest cured meats that you see above. The meat-topped pie also begins to reveal some minor textural shortcomings, overwhelming a delicate pie with an inherent heft and saltiness that throws off the overall balance a bit. That said, each pie had incredible merits and for what it’s worth, this is all we left behind:

Bottom line. If you’re in Barcelona and have somehow stumbled upon the Stamford Pizza Tour, go to N.A.P. and you’ll be happy you found us. Then drop us a postcard or something and let us know how you found us.

Establishment: 22/30
Pizza: 25/30
Hits the Spot: 9.3/10 
Large cheese: €5.50 (355 mm) [$7.20 (14")]

Another newcomer to the Stamford pizza scene is Rizzuto’s, a local chain with locations in Westport, Bethel, and West Hartford, in addition to their new digs in the old Route 22 in Stamford.

Establishment. Rizzuto’s is a peculiarly Olive Garden-y restaurant. From its dubious location in a strip mall to its highly polished décor and menu items with no fewer than 8 vowels per word, this is every bit the spitting image of nobody’s favorite Italian restaurant. Aside from all of the uniform gloss, this restaurant does have some character, be it manufactured or not. With its open kitchen, comfortable and plentiful seating, and attentive service, Rizzuto’s has a friendly air about it. The menu is what you’d expect of an Italian restaurant—antipastos, pastas (avoid eating simultaneously), salads, and entrees that end in parmigiana—as well as a good selection of traditional and signature pizzas.

Pizza. Our pizzas of choice were a plain and a meatball pie off of Rizzuto’s Neapolitan menu (they also offer margherita-style pizzas that omit tomato sauce in favor of plum tomatoes).

The crusts were wood-fired and blistered to oblivion, with a nice char, chewiness, as well as an unfortunate and peculiar popcorn taste that we haven’t come across before (and hopefully won’t have to again). The sauce was bright and fresh but bland for the most part with only some subtle tanginess begging to be noticed. The high spot on this pie was without a doubt the cheese—a house made fresh mozzarella—lending a delicious creaminess and welcome stringiness to an otherwise middle-of-the-road pie.

Our meatball pizza had the same weird popcorn crust dealbreaker as the plain cheese pie, but the saltiness of the meatball brought out some of the subtleties of the sauce for a better overall taste. Despite looking rather stout and robust though, the crust couldn’t hold up to the the toppings and made for a more cumbersome pizza.

Bottom line. Despite a nice, welcoming atmosphere, Rizzuto’s puts forth a mediocre pizza that’s far from bad and just as far from good.

Establishment: 25/30
Pizza: 16/30
Hits the Spot: 4.5/10 
Large cheese: $10.95 (13")

Every year around this time, the Stamford Pizza Tour wakes from its slumber to give you its take on a few new pizzerias in our fair City that Works. Of course, this year (technically last year) will be no different. We give you, a mere two months after its doors opened, La Bellezza Pizza Restaurant.

Allow us to take you back to a kinder, gentler time: a few weeks ago, when the holiday spirit still carried some weight, strangers spouted “Merry Christmas” at passers-by, and the lighting in a certain pizzeria made all of our pictures completely unusable, save for this next shot of an elaborate cave manger scene outside the front door.

Establishment. With deep roots in the New York pizza scene, La Bellezza takes its act from the streets of Manhattan, the Bronx, and Brooklyn (home of some of the best pies on the face of the earth) to its new location on Atlantic Street in Stamford. La Bellezza struck us as a charming little place with a handful of tables, a welcoming staff, and rich, wooden furniture that would make Ron Burgundy blush.

Between the brick, the chalkboard menu, and the bright, open, counter service kitchen, this was as New York a pizzeria as they come—save for the whole “being in Connecticut” thing. The service was prompt, courteous, and extra attentive being as we were the only party in the restaurant at the time. That said, their menu was complete with what one would expect of a pizzeria and then some, including dinners, sandwiches, a surprising wine selection, and of course, pizza.

Pizza. As usual, our two pizzas were a plain cheese, and one with sausage. The pies came to the table steaming hot and were doled out by the slice to each undercover judge by our waiter, fully unaware that he was about to pose his pie in one of the less flattering food shots we’ve ever published.

Abysmal washout and color temperatures aside, this was actually a pretty good pie. The pizza’s thin crust held up reasonably well to a healthy amount of creamy, stringy cheese with its dense, yeasty bite; at the end of the day it wasn’t all that easy to keep this one from slip sliding away, though. The quality and quantity of La Bellezza’s cheese—while sacrificing something by way of texture—kept this pizza steaming hot until we had demolished the whole thing (we’ll be the first to tell you that there’s nothing more taxing than trying to finish a pizza that’s devolved into a gob of cooled cheese).

Cheese points notwithstanding, the sauce didn’t blow us away. Its subtleties were a bit too subtle, and there was really nothing there—good or bad—to go by. Fortunately, both their topping selection and specialty pizza offerings were quite good, making up for lost ground on La Bellezza’s shortcomings.

Bottom line. La Bellezza is a friendly, personable place to grab a pretty decent pie in an unfortunate area that doesn’t get a ton of foot traffic; welcome these guys to town, they’ll be happy to serve you.

Establishment: 21/30
Pizza: 20/30
Hits the Spot: 7.8/10 
Large cheese: $12.00

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Sure it has. The Stamford Pizza Tour awoke from its slumber over the holiday weekend, and now that the hustle and bustle is dead and the freshly fallen snow has got us avalanched indoors, we’re sounding off on Stamford’s latest pizza purveyor, Tappo.

Establishment. Tappo is located on Bank Street, nestled amongst ritzy eateries and men’s hair salons alike, and boy does it look the part. Between the dim-to-dark dining area, white tablecloths, and a fully stocked bar with a top shelf so high that no one can reach it—physically or fiscally—we couldn’t help but feel underdressed (nothing new, but still) in this modern establishment. Tappos’ smallish footprint is maximized with a good deal of small party seating and plenty of room to move around without feeling too cramped (a party of six might have been different, though).

The service was super friendly albeit a bit overbearing, as our water glasses never went more than three sips without being refilled. This is not to a fault, though, as we found ourselves to be very comfortable, especially relative to the sometimes abrasive, always greasy environments that pizza establishments often harbor. In the same vein, the menu is admittedly less pizza-centric than other places, but it includes all sorts of true-to-form Italian favorites as well as some more adventurous offerings in addition to their pizza.

Pizza. As much as Tappo is not your run-of-the-mill establishment, it’s also not your run-of-the-mill pizza, unless of course you frequent the Cappriccio’s of the world. Our benchmark pies of choice were the standby margherita pie and an adventurous Guanciale, Patate e Olio Tartufato (bacon, potatoes, and truffle oil) number.

The margherita pie was everything we’d expect of a traditional Neapolitan pie. The sauce was naturally sweet and tangy, with a fresh, well-seasoned profile that cut through the acidity of the fresh tomato. The cheese was top-notch buffalo mozzarella, lending a deeper flavor than the regular stuff as well as a stringier texture and a nice, satisfying snap. The crust was rather tasty, but the texture was somewhat of a letdown. Fooled by the beautiful blistering on the pizza, we were expecting more of a bite and chew than we got with this light, bready crust that held up more like a wet pita than anything else. The whole was far less than the sum of its parts.

The specialty pie built upon that disappointment with a much more significant one. Had we known from the onset that guanciale was essentially jowl bacon, we might not have been so quick to order this potato-laced, expensive oil-covered abortion. Everything from the fried fingerlings, to the white, chewy, pig face bacon, to the incredibly rich and pricey fungus oil resulted in an unpleasant, umami overload that literally and figuratively left a bad taste in our mouths.

Bottom line. Tappo outclasses many of its pizzeria peers with a charming, cozy establishment but is hampered in the pizza department by a reliance on great parts rather than a coherent final product that had us licking our chops for some of the other, non-pizza entrees at surrounding tables.

Establishment: 22/30
Pizza: 17/30
Hits the Spot: 5.3/10 
Large cheese: $12.00 (12")

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

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

You might remember our latest entry from the annals of Stamford pizzas past, as it existed in town until our city’s pizza glut and Shiki Hibachi vanquished it from existence. While the menu at John’s Best may still refer to a sister pizzeria in the Woolworth(!!) Shopping Center on Hope Street, it’s merely a yellowed, decrepit, vinyl-sleeved relic of the past.

Establishment. John’s Best certainly hearkens back to a different age. Namely the early 1970s, which is probably the last time its interior was updated. A weathered peak awning emblazoned with (equally weathered) “John’s Best Pizza & Restaurant” lettering welcomed us into a dim and dumpy dining room littered with stained-glass lighting fixtures and fake plants. As if the wood-printed tile motif wasn’t homely enough, we were seated at a wrought iron table in a cramped little booth that had our knees and shins mere inches away from smashing into the extraordinarily overbuilt table supports. Decor aside, we were comparably pleased with the prompt and oddly complementary service (she told one of us, “nice hair!” before darting off to the kitchen with our order). While this tailed off toward the end of dinner—the check took forever, our water pitcher was splattered with sticky soda syrup, and the loud, endless banter from adjacent waitresses had us stirring with rage—there weren’t too many barriers to us stuffing our faces with pie. John’s Best’s menu consists mainly of Italian food, ranging from pasta dishes to sandwiches and salads and of course, pizza.

Pizza. We opted for a half-plain, half-meatball pie and for the most part, it wasn’t terrible. The crust was light and airy with enough of a chewy bite that it didn’t come off as bready or insubstantial. The cheese was creamy and plentiful, with a satisfying snap and welcoming stringiness. Unfortunately, the cheese was in short supply on a good two inch wide strip at the perimeter of the pie, pooling in the middle. The sauce was about average with the chunky texture and slight sweetness and tang of fresh tomatoes, but it felt underseasoned and a bit bland.The meatball topping was a bit of a letdown as well, with a rather unwelcome sponginess and metallic notes that could have used some of the unmistakable Italian flavors we’ve come to expect. The texture of this pie also left something to be desired as the oven-blistered, dry crust couldn’t quite hold up to the oils and cheese, soaking them up and devolving into a clumsy, floppy mess over time. Further, the cheese had a tendency to slide right off the pizza, and the pie as a whole lacked cohesion, both flavor- and texture-wise. The better aspects of this pie bordered on average and while not horrible, this pizza’s mediocrity was among its biggest sins.

The bottom line. There’s a very clear reason why John’s Bests have been closing all around Fairfield County: an unwillingness to update and upgrade a decent-but-flawed pizza and a laughingly outdated dining experience has allowed time—and far better establishments—to pass John’s Best by.

Establishment: 16/30
Pizza: 17/30
Hits the Spot: 5.0/10
Large Cheese: $12.45

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

Located amidst ritzy trinket shops and shoe stores in the heart of New Canaan, Pinocchio Pizza bills itself as “the crown jewel of the five pizza restaurants owned by the DiFabio brothers,” and has been featured prominently on B-level syndicated daytime television for its employees’ pizza chucking “skills.” While we’re sure they can stretch dough with the best of them, we’re here to judge whether or not they can cook it.

Establishment. Pinocchio Pizza is a quaint, welcoming dine-in establishment in the otherwise cold, black heart of New Canaan. Offering take-out and delivery options in addition to its small but comfortable dining room, Pinocchio is about as traditional a pizzeria as you’ll find in these parts with its quick, smart-assed table service, relatively family friendly atmosphere, and respectable assortment of by-the-slice offerings. The menu consists primarily of Italian fare, soups, salads, overpriced (in New Canaan they just call this “priced”) pasta dishes and Italian dinners as well as traditional and gourmet variations of pizza. Additionally, the menu gushes about Pinocchio being featured on TV, its chefs being members of the World Pizza Champions (America’s premier pizza team, of course) and its pizzas winning countless awards at the 2008 North American Pizza (and Ice Cream) Show in Columbus, OH (where they know plenty about pizza, we’re sure…)

Pizza. Pinocchio is known for one thing: lying. If Pinocchio himself (the good one, not the awful Roberto Benigni one) told you that this was a good pizza, or anything resembling a good pizza, he’d end up looking like this:

This pizza was as ill-conceived as casting your 50-year-old self to play a school-aged puppet/real boy. Pinocchio’s pie features a puffy, chewy, breadlike crust that’s difficult to chew and near impossible to taste. The cheese, billed as being from the mid-western king of cheeses, Grande, was pretty good aside from it being a bit salty and there being twice as much of it as there needed to be. The sauce was by far the strongest element of this pie (which isn’t saying much, we know), with a clean taste of fresh, tangy tomatoes and traditional Italian flavors. The problem here, is that the pizza was dominated so violently by the bland, spongy crust, the excess cheese, and an overall heavy, cumbersome texture, that the sauce was almost a non-factor. Hot out of the oven, this pizza was so incoherent and sloppy that we were all eating with forks. Further, our topping of choice, sausage, added a completely unnecessary saltiness and the stale taste of mop water to this horrible pie, doing nothing to complement the other “flavors” present. Sure, the guys at Pinocchio Pizza might be very well-versed in their “pizza skills,” but if they are, cooking a good pie is certainly not in their repertoire.

The bottom line. Beware the smoke and mirrors, Pinocchio’s victory in the North American Pizza (and Ice Cream) Show is not at all reflective of how terrible this bready mess of a pie is; maybe they won “Most Improvement Needed.”

Establishment: 19/30
Pizza: 14/30
Hits the Spot: 4.5/10
Large Cheese: $13.99

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")

NOTE: You might remember that our previous visit to Athens did not end particularly well on account of a poor choice of toppings on our part. As such, we revisited the restaurant for a pizza with a far less putrid topping. The following review is a repost of our previous review, edited of course, to reflect our opinion of Athens Pizza sans loukaniko.

Located on West Main, Athens Pizza & Family Restaurant is a family owned institution calling Stamford its home since 1977. Athens contends that "[their] restaurant is clean, hospitable, and best of all, entertaining," and while we don't have a metric for "entertaining" (nor were we sure that it mattered), we're in the position to test most of that claim and then some.

Establishment. Athens Pizza looks to be a wonderful restaurant from afar, and to an extent, it is. Their dining room is large and open, with beautiful tiled floors, an abundance of windows flooding the restaurant with natural light, and staffed with personable, attentive servers. Unfortunately, this dining room is packed to the rafters with cramped, torture rack seating that can barely accommodate a party of four. The restaurant is considerably clean save for some stray food scraps tucked away under the tiny, impractical tables and a peculiar slippery film that coated every tile in the building. While we couldn't sit comfortably or juke a defensive back, we certainly could order off an amazingly diverse menu stacked with salads, soups a soup, hot and cold sandwiches, and a wide array of Greek specialties including gyros, souvlaki, falafel, and of course, traditional Greek pan pizza.

Pizza. In an attempt to expose the truth and to exorcise the loukaniko-flavored demons of reviews past, Athens put together a pretty respectable pizza for us this time around. While the crust still didn't have the same buttery, flaky, Greek-style texture we've grown accustomed to, it was still substantially chewy and crispy (surprisingly with some typically Italian-style char) despite coming up short in the flavor department. The cheese was up to par as well, with a delightfully stringy snap and a clean, fresh flavor hampered only by its inability to stay hot and not congeal. The sauce was a bit thick, tasting cooked down and overseasoned in addition to being a little over-proportioned, causing the cheese to slip around and for the pie to feel less than coherent. The difference this time is that the flavors present were good ones, so the overpowering nature of these ingredients was far less detrimental. Our topping of choice, sausage courtesy of De Yulio's Italian Sausage, was excellent as always, complementing the pizza as a whole as good toppings are wont to do.

The bottom line. Athens Pizza looks great from the outside and tempting from the dining room with a diverse, Greek menu and a pizza that's about average but certainly worth trying as long as loukaniko has no place on top of it.

Establishment: 20/30
Pizza: 19/30
Hits the Spot: 6.3/10
Large Cheese: $12.75

As the Pizza Tour draws to a close, we find ourselves with few "original" restaurants (that is, restaurants that have been in the pool of Pizzas to be Toured from the very beginning) to choose from. Aside from special requests, bars, bagelries, and the like, Amore is the very last true pizzeria on the Stamford Pizza Tour. Located in Springdale, the family-owned Amore Restaurant has been a quiet staple of classic Italian cuisine in Stamford for over 30 years.

Establishment. Amore is a tastefully decorated Italian eatery complete with dark hardwood furniture, a black marble bar top, ceramic tiled floors, fancy arched doorways, and unmistakably classy low, ambient lighting. Amore's seating is comfortable and spacious, spread out across two large dining rooms and a fully stocked bar. The service was highly attentive and courteous, checking on us multiple times during our visit to deliver copious amounts of phenomenally tasty spicy garlic bread baskets and to assure us confidently that we were going to like their pizza (and possibly to snoop out their scores as well). Their menu consists exclusively of authentic Italian fare, including classic antipastos, soups, salads, and house made pastas, as well as both traditional (meat, seafood) and exotic (boar, ostrich, venison) entree offerings in addition to gourmet pizza.

Pizza. In a word, this pizza is extraordinary. In many words, the crust was thin, chewy, and yeasty with a crisp, crunchy bite and the perfect amount of char. The cheese was also far above average with a moist, stringy texture and moderately salty taste, cooked to golden brown perfection. The sauce was an absolute highlight, as it had the unmistakable taste of fresh, crushed tomatoes, was perfectly seasoned, and was overwhelmingly flavorful. This pie came to the table hot and likely would have stayed hot for many days had we not housed the entire thing in a matter of minutes. Each slice held together very nicely both mechanically and otherwise, presenting extremely well balanced proportions and flavors and that played well off of each other and caused little to no ingredient slip. The sausage, our topping of choice, wasn't nearly as stellar as the rest of the pie, but it was still very, very good despite being the "weak" link of this pizza. We were very surprised at the relative emptiness of this restaurant when we Toured on a Saturday night, because Amore could very well be serving the best pizza in Stamford and should be packed to the rafters.

The bottom line. Amore is a traditional, authentic Italian restaurant with all that it entails, from a warm, inviting atmosphere to an absolutely phenomenal "big pizza pie." That's Amore.

Establishment: 23/30
Pizza: 25/30
Hits the Spot: 9.0/10
Large Cheese: $13.50

AWARDS WON:

2009 – Best Pizza

2009 – Tournament Champion

2009 – Best of Springdale/Glenbrook/Belltown

Located on East Main, Sergio's is built for locals with little to no flair, quick service, and a menu that is reasonably priced by 1989 standards.

Establishment. Sergio's is a relatively large restaurant with ample parking, flexible seating, and the personality of a coatroom. Marked by furniture reminiscent of your high school cafeteria, this restaurant has no frills whatsoever, capped off by dingy, brown, Wendy's-esque greenhouse windows and long, pink tables. The service was quick but minimally personable and attentive; our waitress exchanged only a few words with us before making herself scarce and darting around the laughably understaffed dining room. However, Sergio's offers an extensive menu including traditional Greek and Italian specialties, sandwiches, hamburgers, salads, seafood, beer and wine, in addition to traditional Greek pan pizza. Almost everything on the menu is dirt cheap, which makes us think that one waitress is really all that Sergio's can afford to staff without going belly up.

Pizza. Sergio's makes an excellent pizza. This Greek-style pie has a traditional, buttery pan crust, cooked to golden brown perfection. As is the norm with Greek pies we've had, the cheese was immensely flavorful and twice as greasy, congealing rather fast but with a good overall taste. The sauce, while in relative short supply, was also rather tasty, light, and well seasoned with a bit of a tang to it, complementing the otherwise heavy pie pretty well. Worth mentioning is a rather rare, slice-to-slice inconsistency issue we noticed, as most of the pizza was as described, but some select slices had excessive sauce, some had cheese slip-sliding around with a mind of its own, and some were really soggy with oil (but they were all cut into stupid square slices so chalk that up as another reason not to do that!). Our topping of choice, sausage, was average, but nothing special adding further masses of oil to an already slicked up, glistening pie. All in all, this pizza was exceptional, with all the makings of a good Greek pizza: mediocre indgredients that inexplicably Hit the Spot with deadly accuracy.

The bottom line. Sergio's has some tables, some chairs, a waitress, and a very good, very cheap pizza.

Establishment: 20/30
Pizza: 21/30
Hits the Spot: 8.7/10
Large Cheese: $9.00

A relative newcomer to the Stamford bar scene, Tracks is located on Hope Street, filling some of the void that the defunct Fireside Restaurant left behind as both a bar and restaurant.

Establishment. Tracks Bar & Restaurant is, by and large, the friendliest bar we've been to on the Tour. We were welcomed, as if to a home, by everyone working there at some point throughout the evening, including a playful, profanity-laced conversation with Tracks' Irish-brogued owner, Jimmy. The establishment is clearly split into bar and restaurant sections, with a fully stocked bar and well-dressed dining area signifying each, respectively, all appearing relatively clean (especially considering the number that the Stamford High softball team did on the dining room before we got there). As we've mentioned, the service was overwhelmingly personable and attentive, going so far as to adjust the air conditioner return that was blowing in our faces. Tracks' lunch/dinner menu consists of Italian-style appetizers and entrees, soups, salads, and of course, pizza with some select items available on a bar-style menu (including some Irish fare) at all times.

Pizza. Tracks' pizza is a step above the average bar pie, competing with traditional pizzerias in terms of both size and taste. The crust, made in house, is thin and crunchy with a slightly darker-than-golden "shell" (quite honestly bordering on overcooked) and delicious, chewy innards. The cheese was exceptional with a delightfully gooey texture, fresh tasting (albeit somewhat muted and bland) flavors, and the temperature retention of a cast iron skillet. However, Tracks' sauce is what really brought their pie together with an immense amount of flavor caked on rather thick. While borderline overpowering, this homemade sauce elevated a cookie-cutter bar pie through our often held glass ceiling of bar pies, shattering any preconceptions we may have had. The sausage, our topping of choice, was very light in color and carried a unique, much appreciated flavor while giving the pie further dimension despite its striking resemblance to deer turds. As we've mentioned, this bar pizza remained white hot throughout our meal, framing a surprisingly good pizza experience.

The bottom line. Tracks is a charming Irish pub worth visiting if only for its delightfully plucky and friendly staff; they also put together a solid, restaurant-style bar pie that isn't the best in town, but certainly won't disappoint.

Establishment: 23/30
Pizza: 21/30
Hits the Spot: 7.0/10
Large Cheese: $9.99 (14")

AWARDS WON:

2009 – Best Mother@#$%ing Waitstaff

Located in Stamford's East Side on West Main Street, Antonio's Restaurant was a late entry on the Pizza Tour and unlike the other late entries, is an actual pizza restaurant. Considering the torrent of bar pies we've experienced lately, we were excited to take the Tour back to a true pizzeria for a change.

Establishment. Antonio's is exactly what you'd expect of a sit-down pizzeria with a few extra quirks that make it unique. After scoring a parking spot that wasn't chained up by the adjacent dry cleaner, we walked into the restaurant through a lattice tunnel reminiscent of the queuing area at It's a Small World to an instrumental rendition of The Moody Blues' "Nights in White Satin." When we weren't preoccupied playing Name that Tune with the ever changing pan flute Muzak offerings, we were very relaxed in a low-lit, clean, and comfortable dining room, eating basket upon basket of warm, free bread. An interesting, mysterious back room (party room?) also exists at Antonio's with fewer tables, plastic tablecloths, and what appears to be a dance floor accessible through a side door labeled "Steak Mix" (your guess is as good as ours). In any event, Antonio's menu consists of both Italian and Mexican specialties, thus providing a unique opportunity to order tacos with your pizza.

Pizza. Antonio's pizza is pretty good. The crust is relatively thick and very crunchy with a strong, yeasty flavor and a unique, slightly overpowering bite. The cheese was delightfully stringy in contrast with the crust's bold textures and was moderately flavorful without being very greasy at all as well. Unfortunately, the sauce did not complement the rest of the pie at all, as it was underflavored, underproportioned, and to be blunt, boring. Regardless, this scorching hot pie stayed as such throughout the meal and was rather filling (both clearly the results of the thick, crunchy crust slab). Our topping of choice, skimpily distributed sausage, was not one of the better ones we've had, exuding a considerable amount of grease and oil with very little flavor payoff. Overall, Antonio's pizza was rather good with some unique, not necessarily complementary texture components and a traditional flavor we haven't seen in a while.

The bottom line. Antonio's is a nice place to eat with a slightly quirky ambiance echoed by the mostly traditional but still unique pizza.

Establishment: 21/30
Pizza: 20/30
Hits the Spot: 6.5/10
Large Cheese: $9.95