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")]

We’ve been trying to check out ZAZA for quite some time now. Since meandering through the doors of the yet-to-open restaurant back in May, we’ve stopped by only to be turned elsewhere by huge crowds, long waits, and the will of the famed Pizza Tour fedora. But at long last, we finally found the time to venture over to the former home of 122 Pizza Bistro for one of Stamford’s newest (at least relatively speaking) pies.

Establishment. ZAZA never struck us as a traditional pizzeria, mostly because it isn’t one. It’s a “gastrobar” by name, with all that it entails: a mozzarella tasting menu, Italian tapas, a huge wine bar, trendy clientele, and a lot of dark paint and red leather.

While a little off-putting and distinctly not our speed at first, ZAZA drew us in with super comfortable seating (save for the table sharing thing, which is weird), decent service, and an inviting—albeit a little vampirey—atmosphere that we really warmed up to. It didn’t hurt, of course, that their menu was anchored by a very familiar menu centerpiece—brick oven pizza.

Pizza. Typical Pizza Tour fashion, we ordered a plain napoletana pie and one with sausage in the name of science and consistency (don’t call it boring).

What was immediately striking were the vibrant colors and strong aromas of this pizza’s fresh components. On top of an expertly cooked, golden brown crust was a fresh, tangy, chunky tomato sauce; smooth, delicious mozzarella (also browned to perfection); and just enough fresh basil to give the pie a very bright flavor profile. The sauce was almost too subtle, however, as most of us felt that it was a bit under-seasoned.

The sausage pizza left a little to be desired, as our favorite topping was pretty stingily and inconsistently sprinkled across the pie (which is unfortunate because its saltiness really highlighted the subtleties we missed on the plain pie), but most of the high spots from the napoletana pizza carried over to this one. A minor knock on both pies is that their delicately thin, airy crust cools really fast—not a huge problem seeing as the three of us wolfed down these 12” personal pies in about 6 minutes, but still worth mentioning.

Also worth mentioning is ZAZA’s unusual subversion of our stupid square slices pet peeve in which a square pizza is cut into wedges, as one would expect a round pizza to be served. Mind-blowing, we know. Fortunately, the inverse of this Greek abomination of a cutting technique is hardly offensive at all and didn’t stand in the way of the top-notch flavors and textures of a really good pizza.

Bottom line. ZAZA is packed to the rafters on the weekends and it’s pretty obvious why: an inherent trendiness gets people in the door once, but dedication to clean, fresh flavors across the menu (but most importantly with pizza, of course) forces them to return.

Establishment: 22/30
Pizza: 22/30
Hits the Spot: 7.3/10 
Large cheese: $10.50 (12")

For those living under a rock (or those too preoccupied with actual news), there’s a new pizza in town and it’s rattling some cages. At the helm of Rico’s kitchen are two former employees of Stamford’s iconic dive, Colony Grill, and they’ve (allegedly) brought the pizza with them. Normally, we like to give new places time to settle in so that the inconsistencies, growing pains, and stupid waits normally associated with new places have a chance to die down. This time, Stamford’s newest rivalry didn’t afford us that luxury.

Establishment. Plainly put, Rico’s is a takeout/delivery joint with a few tables in it. At best, they’re a counter service pizzeria with a 45 minute wait (partially due to the buzz surrounding the “illegal” use of Colony’s recipes, partially due to the curiosity that comes with having a new pizza in town to try). We tried to call ahead four or five times to place our order before we got there but the phones kicked us straight to voicemail despite them being manned by at least two people at any given time. Nonetheless, were were taken care of by a friendly staff without having to look at creepy painted wood cutouts while delivery orders went flying out the door in the interim. While we’re talking about differences between this place and another place, it certainly bears mentioning that Rico’s menu includes calzones, empanadas, wedges, wraps, and salad offerings in addition to the contentious little pizzas that brought us there.

Pizza. The minute these pizzas hit the table, we were thinking the same thing that you are looking at these pictures, “Boy, that pie looks familiar…” Upon further investigation, it also tastes familiar. Rico’s crust is super thin with crispy edges, a hearty crunch, and a surprisingly chewy bite that you wouldn’t expect from a cracker-thin pie (unless, of course, you’ve had some exposure to pizzas like this…) that contributes chiefly to the overall flavor. Rico’s sauce and cheese meld together in an intricate lace that yields a big texture and a not-so-special flavor. While adding a stringy, satisfying snap, the cheese seems like an afterthought with its flavor. Moreover, the sauce is noticeably underseasoned and carries an unnatural sweetness beyond what we’d naturally expect from tomatoes. Couple that with the breakneck speed at which the pizza cools and you have a recipe for a pie that doesn’t hold up very well after it’s been out of the oven for 10-15 minutes.

At it’s heart, Rico’s Pizza is about the toppings. With small, cookie-sized pizzas (okay, admittedly a big cookie), it naturally follows that they become customized to the individual with ingredients that fill the gaps left open by the lackluster sauce and cheese elements. We ordered a hot oil and stingers (hot peppers) pie and one with sausage. The hot oil was bold, spicy, and most importantly, used in moderation to complement the peppers for a considerably less greasy texture than an oil topping would lead you to think (in fact, all of the pizzas were considerably less greasy). Additionally, the sausage added much needed heartiness and saltiness to the pie that it was generously strewn across. Rico’s enters the Stamford pizza scene as a solid competitor to other thin crust bar pies, with subtle improvements that set it apart, albeit slightly.

Bottom line. Rico’s is the quintessential bar pie without the bar. If you’re looking for a good, traditional pizza, there are other places to go, but if you’ve got a Colony addiction, Rico’s is a viable substitute.

Establishment: 16/30
Pizza: 21/30
Hits the Spot: 7/10 
Large cheese: $8.50 (13")

Located on the dense pizzeria stronghold of Stamford’s Broad Street is Morelli Pizza Café. Around the corner from Remo’s and a few doors down from the to-be-reviewed ZAZA Italian Gastrobar, Morelli faces stiff competition from the get-go as a uniquely themed newcomer with deep Stamford roots.

Establishment. Claiming a 30 year influence on Stamford’s pizza scene, Morelli Pizza Café exists as the reborn phoenix of the defunct Café Morelli that was once located in the purportedly cursed 269 Bedford property down the street. Creative renaming aside, the new pizzeria presents a smaller, more counter service-oriented atmosphere than the original. Resembling a clean, modernized bakery/café complete with trendy wall lettering straight out of Restaurant:Impossible, Morelli’s comes across as a place to grab a slice while passing by—not necessarily as a destination.

As we’ve mentioned, counter service is Morelli’s MO, and as such, makes the few interactions with the staff all the more important. Having said this, we were totally put off by the lackadaisical “help” we received, the awkward glares that were shot our way through the duration of our meal, and by the ill-fated attempts made to charge us for tap water. Service has a tendency to set the scene.

Pizza. We visited Morelli’s months ago. Literally months. The fact that it’s taken so long to scrap together some semblance of a review for this boring, run-of-the-mill pie should speak for itself. But it doesn’t, so here’s some more words.

In typical Pizza Tour fashion, we ordered a large, half-plain, half-topping measuring stick pizza. The crust was a big, chewy, bready number with no shortage of air bubbles and all the flavor to match. The cheese was slightly less offensive in the flavor department with a short-lived creaminess that became gummy and hard as the once scorching hot pie cooled rapidly, and turned it into a slippery sheet that slid clean off the crust. The high spot (if you could really call it that) was the sauce, which lent the pizza just about all of its flavor. While bold and tangy, this sauce was super heavy and helped make a cumbersome pizza borderline unbearable. It should be no surprise to you at this point to find out that the meatball topping we ordered was likewise devoid of an important attribute that we call “flavor.”

Bottom line. If you’re in the neighborhood, Morelli Pizza Café might be worth a visit for its vast menu of burgers, dogs, quesadillas, and soup, but better pizza and better service is no more than a 3 minute walk away.

Establishment: 15/30
Pizza: 17/30
Hits the Spot: 5.7/10 
Large cheese: $11.00

Every once in a while, the opportunity presents itself to return to our roots as a comprehensive tour of pizzerias in Stamford. It’s been quite some time (we start all of our entries this way now) but we’ve managed to make it to some new, local pizzerias as of late, the first of which was Luca’s Pizzeria on East Main.

Establishment. Luca’s comes across as another delivery/pickup-oriented-but-still-big-enough-to-seat-six-people type of place (see: Ridgeway Pizza, Outpost Pizza, and for the masochists out there, Belltown Pizza) and it pulls the look off. Almost too well, actually. There’s nothing too spectacular about Luca’s—they have a counter, an oven, a few tiny tables that they wipe down with a wet rag now and again—but as far as setting itself apart from the 50+ other pizzerias in town that we’ve made it a point to scrutinize over the past two years…eh, not so much.

Aside from the underwhelmingly in-the-box atmosphere, Luca’s comes across as a nice place run by nice people. We were helped quickly, well accommodated (they pushed two of their miniscule couples tables together for us), and watched closely throughout our meal by the 45 people that, for some reason, were all staring at us from behind the counter. Their menu is what one would expect from such an establishment, complete with wraps, salads, deli sandwiches and naturally, pizza.

Pizza. In following with what has become our Pizza Tour protocol, we ordered up one of Luca’s finest cheese pizzas, half-plain, half-topped with meatball—a make-or-break topping if ever there was one.

The first thing we noticed about this pie was how light and airy the crust was. We were torn, however, on whether this was a good thing or not. While some argued that the pizza’s lightness was a pleasant surprise, others found it insubstantial on both texture and flavor fronts. The cheese offered a subtle, smooth flavor and pulled from the pie in delicate, stringy threads, but would have been better served if it covered the whole freaking pie.

As you can see, there’s a good inch and a half of sauced crust on this pizza encircling the stingy application of everyone’s favorite dairy product. Speaking of sauced crust, it’s when we got to this lovely bit of pizza that the utter blandness of the sauce really stuck out. There were subtle hints of oregano and other not-so-discernable spices, but we like to get punched in the face with flavor, and this one didn’t do the job, nor was its cooked-down clumpiness very appealing texturally.

Luca’s topping list is extensive with nothing too crazy and everything we’d expect (plus half-oddballs like fresh clams, broccoli rabe, prosciutto, salami, etc.), including the underwhelming but still comparatively tasty meatball topping we ordered that most certainly began its life as an actual meatball.

Bottom line. Luca’s is alright, but as a new pizzeria, it brings nothing special, extraordinary, or overwhelmingly different to an established landscape of restaurants that are as good—or better—at using this particular cookie cutter.

Establishment: 17/30
Pizza: 18/30
Hits the Spot: 5.5/10
Large cheese: $12.95

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")

The last time we visited this place, a “pizzeria” it was not. Then known as Speedy Pizza, the restaurant was a literal hole in the wall, with little separating it from what we think a pizza place might look like in the Third World. There were so few good things about Speedy Pizza that we went as far as to say:

Canadians (honest to God, Canadians) would not find this pizza anywhere near appetizing and may God have mercy on the souls of those keeping this scourge of the earth in business.

Ouch. But that was then. Since then, the restaurant has been rechristened “Speedy’s Pizzeria.” Along with the name change (albeit slight) comes new management and a much needed overhaul of just about everything, from the staff to the food, to the waiting-room-in-the-kitchen motif. The new owner has even offered up a free small cheese pie to the countless patrons that Speedy Pizza and its horrid review scared away. We took him up on it.

Establishment. Speedy’s Pizzeria has walls and a counter and floors that aren’t covered in glue from ripped up linoleum; already a pretty monumental upgrade. Also falling into the upgrade column is the repurposing of Speedy Pizza’s hardly-working, gas-fired monstrosity of an oven as box/delivery bag storage while what we initially referred to as “a non-working oven” (and what was actually a Domino’s-style conveyor oven) has been resurrected into use. They’ve decked the place out with framed prints, a flat screen TV, even some tables and a restroom. Swanky.

While the place probably won’t seat more than 2-3 parties, it’s comparatively comfortable and has much less of the seedy, backroom vibe that put us off so effectively last year. Service was also pretty personable and energetic. Speedy’s menu includes salads, appetizers (both standard American ones like wings and fries, as well as Mexican antojitos like arepas and salchipapas), wraps, subs, calzones, and of course, a selection of traditional and specialty pizzas.

Pizza. In order to stay true to our original Pizza Tour benchmark, we ordered the very same pizza that prompted our damning original review: a large pie, half plain cheese, half sausage.

And there it is. A departure from our last visit, the pizza’s sauce and cheese were no longer of questionable quality and origin: the sauce was bright and tangy, while the cheese had a nice snap despite being a bit oily and gummy by the time we got it home (Speedy Pizza, for reference, topped their pies with some sort of candle wax). The crust had an alright flavor as well, but the conveyor oven does the pie’s texture no favors at all. The pizza lacked the crispness that all good pies absolutely need; it was bready and floppy and more reminiscent of a pita than a pizza. It was baked rather than cooked. The texture brought this pie to a screeching halt.

You might gather from the photo that we weren’t super impressed with the sausage either (you might pick up on that gigantic, doughy blister, too). It was in short supply and it tasted like a canned breakfast sausage rather than the Italian sausage it was billed as. Some things never change. All things considered, though, we were able to finish this pie, which is something we wouldn’t dream of doing with an old Speedy Pizza.

Bottom line. Speedy’s Pizzeria is not Speedy Pizza by any means; it’s clean, friendly, and slightly more speedy with a product that was something that we can’t pin Most Improvement Needed on anymore (that’s now Michelina’s).

Establishment: 13/30
Pizza: 14/30
Hits the Spot: 4.0/10 
Large cheese: $12.99

With our merry band of pizza tour brethren missing an integral member since we wrapped up our Pizza Tournament last summer, we don’t often get to judge Stamford pizzerias through the same lens as before. I say this, of course, because for but a brief moment last week, the Pizza Tour rode again into Vigilante’s Deli, the new pizza in town, that fights crime on its own terms! (HT – JR of Streets of Stamford).

Establishment. While technically one of the newer pizzas in town, Vigilante’s has been around in deli form for five or so years, offering up hot and cold sandwiches and other typical deli fare along with Italian dinner specialties. As is the case with most delis, Vigilante’s isn’t particularly large, but it’s close quarters and small, personable staff make each visit feel comfortable and homey. Seating is pretty limited in the cooler months, but we found ourselves to be very comfortable outside on one of their huge picnic tables on a temperate, summer evening.

Since delving into the pizza scene, Vigilante’s has added calzones and Stromboli to their menu in addition to a broad selection of traditionally topped and specialty pies ranging from The Vigilante to the “Vig”etable (get it?).

Pizza. Our pizzas of choice were the aforementioned Vigilante (sausage, sautéed broccoli rabe, fried Italian hot peppers) and a traditional margarita (so, we didn’t judge this place through exactly the same lens as before with our strict “plain cheese + one topping” criteria…).

Here’s The Vigilante on a picnic table, our photographer failed to shoot the margarita pie, yet again…

As far as crusts go, Vigilante’s was pretty bready and puffy, appearing relatively colorless and packing a bit of a yeasty punch without much of the chewiness we were looking for. The crust didn’t hold up well to the load of toppings offered, lending to the pizzas’ floppy, undercooked texture. All around, the cheese was very good (The Vigilante’s shredded mozzarella, and the margarita’s fresh slices of it), holding up well for a fresh and stringy bite.

The sauce was another story entirely; it was difficult to differentiate the sauce’s taste from the overpowering flavors of the specialty pie, but the clean flavors present in the margarita pizza made it pretty clear that this sauce was downright bland. Perhaps diluted by the inherent moisture of the fresh mozzarella and sliced tomatoes, this otherwise light and fresh sauce came across as being grossly underseasoned.

As we touched on before, the toppings had a tendency to overpower the pizza as a whole. However, they were quite tasty. The salty, savory flavors of the sausage combined nicely with the natural, concentrated bitterness of the broccoli rabe and the slow, spicy burn of the fried peppers for a particularly unique flavor profile.

Bottom line. Vigilante’s comes through as a deli should, with a personable, knowledgeable staff, quality base ingredients, and great flavor combinations, but the execution of our pizzas just felt off.

Establishment: 16/30
Pizza: 15/30
Hits the Spot: 5.6/10 
Large cheese: $12.95 (18")

Our second venture into true NYC pizzadom took us to John’s of Bleecker Street in the friendly, sunny West Village (it was really part of our first venture, as we hit Grimaldi’s earlier in the day).

In an environment like New York City where there exists a “John’s” or a “Ray’s” on every other corner claiming to be “Famous” or “Original” or “Famous Original,” it’s hard to stand out as another “John’s Pizzeria.” John’s of Bleecker Street, however, has done just that by establishing a following dating back to 1929 with pizza that don’t need no stinking gimmicks.

Establishment. In many ways, John’s doesn’t look and feel like a typical New York Pizzeria, especially in Manhattan where a lot of them are by-the-slice walkups. John’s doesn’t do slices, only full pies as evidenced by their painfully long “specialty” menu that details every single combination of ingredients and toppings in list form. This restaurant is relatively large with a good amount of seating and eclectic decor in the way of mosaic painted walls, intriguing light fixtures and wall hangings, and the spoils of a carve-your-name-into-anything-made-of-wood policy.

In other ways, John’s is exactly like a typical New York pizzeria: popular, excellent at packing as many people as possible into cramped booths (we said a good amount of seating, not good seating), littered with autographs of celebrities (Johnny Depp) and pseudo-celebrities alike (Road Warrior Hawk, two of Vanilla Ice), and featuring a brick oven that spits out good pizza on a daily basis.

Pizza. Our brick oven fired pie of choice was a large sausage and fresh garlic pizza (we were hard sold on the garlic, this is important). This pie came to the table hot out of the oven with a well-charred crust, beautiful melted slices of mozzarella, and a shockingly bright red sauce.

(Again, this is a representative picture because of our camera issues, but just imagine that it has sausage and dark little specs of garlic on it…)

The crust was yeasty and delicious, but it was also rather toothsome and chewy, giving our jaws a more significant workout than even a bagel should. The cheese was of excellent quality and of lower moisture than we’re used to, lending the pie it’s nice, stringy snap with a more aggressive flavor. The sticking point with this pizza, however, was the sauce; while fresh-tasting and cleanly seasoned, the harsh bitterness of the tomato seemed overly concentrated, giving it the taste of a cooked down tomato paste rather than a good sauce. The toppings were nothing special either as the sausage was pretty forgettable and the fresh garlic that was so forcefully recommended to us ended up singed and bitter, not helping the sauce issues in the least. Still, despite its shortcomings, this is probably a better pie than many of the by-the-gigantic-slice, gas fired pizzerias on every other corner in Manhattan can serve up.

The bottom line. John’s of Bleecker Street serves a good pie with big flavors and textures that will hit or miss amongst different palates that stumble into their friendly, intriguing establishment.

Establishment: 15/30
Pizza: 20/30
Hits the Spot: 6.7/10
Large Cheese: $14.00

One of the reasons we’ve tried to keep up with our Pizza Touring is for places like this. While we started with the places we’ve known all our lives in Stamford, branching out into the pizza bastions of the northeast has exposed us to the cultures of textbook New Haven, and now New York pizza pies.

Tucked away under the bridge in Brooklyn’s eclectic DUMBO neighborhood, Grimaldi’s is the quintessential New York pizzeria. Staking the claim to countless prizes bestowed by locals and foodies alike, Grimaldi’s is indisputably iconic and renowned throughout the country as one of the best pizzas you’ll ever have the privilege of eating. Or so we’re trying to confirm.

Establishment. As is the case with many local institutions, Grimaldi’s sports a sizable line that often stretches the length of Old Fulton Street as well as some little quirks (cash only, no slices, takeout line and eat-in line are the same) that everyone begrudgingly deals with. After waiting in the sun (a welcome departure from our usual waits in the cold winter night) for about an hour, we were ushered in, bouncer style, to a packed but deceptively comfortable dining room. Cafeteria-style seating fills the restaurant to the rafters, seating eight to a side in what can be described as a mildly roomy feeding trough. The darkened, close quarters atmosphere is reminiscent of just about everything else in the city (as is the abysmal parking) and, like any respectable big-name pizzeria, Grimaldi’s incorporates photographs of its famous patrons and Frank Sinatra into the decor. Our server was predictably terse and largely pragmatic, doing his damndest to dart from table to table in order to bring menus, take orders, drop checks, and usher a new party into the restaurant.

Pizza. The time we did spend in Grimaldi’s, however, was nothing short of divine. Our pie of choice was a classic Neapolitan topped with crumbled Italian sausage and fresh garlic, delivered steaming hot, no less than five (!!!) minutes after we ordered it.

(full disclosure: this, and all of the other pictures in this post are the best representative photographs that we could find…our camera kind of crapped out on us)

The crust was an oven-blistered masterpiece, delicately thin with a huge, yeasty flavor and the bitter notes of a perfect coal oven char. The cheese was a beautifully fresh, sliced mozzarella that melted into stringy pools of delicate flavor. Slicing through the mildness of the cheese was a phenomenally well-seasoned, fresh and tangy tomato sauce with light notes of natural sweetness. Full leaves of fresh basil complemented the sauce nicely, giving the pie a brightness amidst its inherently strong flavors. The crumbled Italian sausage and fresh, crushed garlic that topped this pizza were very complementary as well, moderately portioned as not to overpower the pie but contributing a good deal of savory, salty notes and working to deepen the flavors of the sauce. Our only criticism—and we’re really reaching here—was with the pizza’s overall texture: it was super thin, especially in the center, and as a result, some slices were on the floppy side. That’s it. This was one good pizza.

The bottom line. If you can stand to wait in line for upwards of an hour and you don’t mind little establishment idiosyncrasies, this isn’t just one of the best pizzas you’ll find in New York, but one of the best you’ll find. Period.

Establishment: 16/30
Pizza: 26/30
Hits the Spot: 9.7/10
Large Cheese: $14.00