Fry Me To the Moon

I have recently been referred to as "the pizza guy" by my friends. I have absolutely no idea why. And everybody seems to have a suggestion for what the pizza guy should try next. I love everybody's enthusiasm. I'll just feel bad if I go to somebody's favorite pizza place and then give it a horrible review because it's greasy or not as crispy as I like. Then I turn from the pizza guy into the bad guy.

Among these recommendations, I get lots of texts and facebook messages telling me about a new pizza variation that somebody just stumbled on. Breakfast pizza, Indian pizza, Vegan pizza. They all exist. And I'm more curious than anybody, but I don't think it's really fair to include them in my search. Nobody in their right mind would say these are the best pizzas in New York. Maybe the weirdest.

One variation I was intrigued enough to try was deep fried pizza. That's right - you heard it correctly - deep. fried. pizza. Chip Shop in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn is a British pub/restaurant where they will literally batter and deep fry anything. In addition to pizza and the usual cod and haddock, they also fry hamburgers, macaroni and cheese, cherry pie, and a number of candy bars. And although it's not listed on the menu, I have a feeling they also fry an artery or two.

You can't help but laugh as you eat this pizza. It's just sort of ridiculous. It tastes pretty good - kind of like a really rich and battery mozzarella stick. The tomato sauce and most of the cheese gets lost, but who cares when the batter is this delicious.

I guess, it's official. I have to be the "pizza guy" to travel to Brooklyn specifically to try a deep fried slice. Either the pizza guy or British. It's crazy to me - the Brits have both Shakespeare and deep fried snickers. Where did we Americans go wrong?

Is Chip Shop's deep fried pizza the best pizza in NY? Come on, in all fairness, I'm not giving this a rating. It's almost not even pizza anymore. It tastes really good and if you're a fan of fried foods and heart attacks, then I urge you to give it a try.

And Video Rentals, To Boot!

In previous posts, I've called Ray's the McDonald's of NY pizza chains and Patsy's the Starbucks. And now I come to another visible NY pizza empire and the question arises, what recognizable corporation can I compare Two Boots to? And after much consideration, I guess they'd have to be the Urban Outfitters - they're hip, grungy, and their products seem too cheap to cost as much as they do.

Two Boots continues to expand all over the city and there are even a few locations above 14th Street, which seems to defeat the purpose for me. Two Boots has always been a drunken late night pizza stop for artists and hipsters. There is definitely plenty of drinking on the Upper East Side, but it's more of the frat boy sport watching varietal than the introspective, artistic depression varietal you'd find in the Village.

I chose the Two Boots on Avenue A in the Lower East Side. Besides it being the original location, this Two Boots also houses a video store. What a brilliant concept - you can rent your movies and buy a pizza all at the same time. This is groundbreaking. It feels so... 1987!

1987 was the year that two indie filmmakers with a love for Cajun cuisine (The name Two Boots refers to the similar shapes of Louisiana and Italy) thought to put the likes of andouille sausage and crawfish on pizza. And then name their pies after such iconic pop culture characters as Mel Cooley and Tony Clifton. Somewhere, Genaro Lombardi is spinning in his grave.

I've been to Two Boots before and really liked their thin, seasoned crust and interesting toppings. $3.75 for a slice is pushing it, but it's worth trying their unique spicy Cajun flavors on one of our all-time favorite foods.

On this visit, I tried to pick the slice that was closest to what I'd expect from New York style pizza. On any other day, I'd love to do spicy buffalo wings and blue cheese - but there's work to be done here and so I opted for the Mr. Pink: marinated chicken, plum tomatoes, fresh garlic, and mozzarella.

The kid behind the counter said that it just came out of the oven so it didn't need to be warmed up. After my first disappointing bite, I realized he was wrong. I brought the cold, limp slice back to the counter and told him to heat it up.

After that little delay, the pizza tasted much better. The thin crust now had a much warmer enjoyable crunch - it was like a whole different pizza. And it was decent. but not as good as I had remembered.

The cheese seemed cheap and not terribly fresh, while the tomato sauce didn't have as much zippiness and seasoning as I had remembered. The chicken was peppery so maybe it overshadowed the tomato sauce. The crust had a slight ashy char and a chewy depth from the cornmeal they use but it was also a bit dry.

I wish I had ordered one of their more bizarre, Cajun-inspired slices. The Mr. Pink was a bit too bland and I'm afraid when Two Boots' pizza is not spruced up by some spicy green jalapeño pesto or something, the flaws become more evident.

Two Boots' saving grace is that their flavor combinations are interesting and the locations are fun and off-beat. And even though we can download any movie we want from Itunes or have it delivered from Netflix, it is nice to see an independent video store still thriving in the big city. (Maybe I should've named Two Boots the Blockbuster Video of NY pizza chains.) Let's just hope Two Boots can stay in business if we ever figure out a way to stream and download pizza.

Is Two Boots the best pizza in NY? They serve unique and sometimes flavorful slices, but these artsy, kitschy shops are not in the same league as the big boys and they only get a 6 out of 10 from me.

Slice by Slice, Part Two (West Village)

If there's a battleground for the pizza wars in New York, it might be on Bleecker Street between 6th and 7th Avenues. In the middle of the street, you can find the old standby John's of Bleecker, which has been there since 1929. And directly across the street is the new favorite Neapolitan style pizza at Kesté. The two places both garner a huge line and a devoted fan base. But the owners aren't too worried about the competition since their pizza styles are quite different from each other and it really does come down to a matter of taste.

However, bookending the street are two old slice joints that claim to have some of the best pizza in the city. I'll be the judge of that.

BLEECKER STREET PIZZA:

My first stop was Bleecker Street Pizza on Seventh Avenue, which according to Food Network, has the Best Pizza in NYC. I had been here once before with my parents (we went on a one day pizza slice expedition a while back when they were in town) and remember it being a pretty decent slice.

I don't remember if I had their signature Nonna Maria slice then, but that's what I decided to order this time around. The cashier told me it's the best slice they make. It's basically their version of a margherita. I waited a bit for the slice, which means it was baked fresh. The steam was rising so I waited even longer to take my first bite.

The first thing that turned me off was the excessive amount of grease. When I folded the pizza, the oil just slid down the slice like a heart-clogging waterfall.

When the grease drip finally subsided, I took my first unimpressive bite. Sure, the crust was crispy and thin, but the rest of the pizza was pretty flavorless. The tomato sauce was chunky and needed some zing. The basil tasted liked the dried variety rather than the fresh herbs one expects from margheritas.

The cheese was good, but it was a bit sporadic and along with the other ingredients disappeared rather quickly. There wasn't enough of anything on the bread so that toward the end, I was just eating crispy dry bread. I could see right through the tomato sauce to the sad, empty crust. I want my pizza to remain strong and composed until the end of my meal.

Is Bleecker Street Pizza the best pizza in NY? I don't care what Food Network says, their famous Nonna Maria slice's heavy greasiness and bland flavors earn it a 5 out of 10.

FAMOUS JOE'S:

I didn't actually finish the Bleecker Street slice because I was saving my calories for my next stop: Famous Joe's Pizza. Joe's is on the Sixth Avenue side of Bleecker and was featured in Spider Man 2.

Unlike my previous stop, this place was not being operated by Italians (at least not at the moment). But I'm sure there is a Joe or a son or daughter of Joe who's calling the shots. This place fared slightly better than Bleecker Street. I went for their regular cheese slice and made my way to sit at the counter.

I could hear people crunching around me. Seriously. The crust was ultra-thin and crispy. The customers were sort of an orchestra without realizing it. Maybe this is how the creators of Stomp came up with their idea.

Besides the almost burnt crust (it tasted like I was eating ash toward the end), nothing really stood out. The cheese and tomato sauce were both pleasant enough and the pizza was not too greasy and rather light. The dough might have been slightly too thin because I was still hungry.

Both these pizzas are still far better than you can get in middle America, but the flavors are not exceptional and the ingredients could be fresher. If you're looking for a spectacular pizza experience, I'd stop between these two spots in the middle of Bleecker Street and get in line for either John's (traditional NY) or Kesté (authentic Neapolitan).

Is Famous Joe's the best pizza in NY? It has the most important of NY pizza characteristics: the ultra-thin crust but the cheese and tomato sauce are really nothing special giving it a 6 out of 10.

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

New York is a big city for sure, but not so big that a sense of community is lost. In Brooklyn, there is a huge community of artists and musicians and most of them never leave the borough, unless they have a gig or a David Byrne lecture to attend somewhere.

And many of the hipster artist types hang out or work at Roberta's Pizza in Bushwick. Roberta's even hosts a radio station that features shows about local food and music. You can feel there is a real sense of community at this place. They even have those communal tables. Get to know your neighbors!

When we finally found Roberta's entrance (which made the place look like a grungy dive bar), we were greeted with warm smiles, but I felt a little out of place. It was as if we had entered an exclusive ski lodge in the middle of New England and we were more than welcome to visit, but we weren't staying for the night.

The service was friendly but apathetic and completely unhelpful. I asked the waitress about a specific beer and she answered that she hadn't tasted it, without any offer to find out more information from somebody who has. I think she may have been slightly stoned too because she took away our menus before we ordered and then later in the meal as we were clearly eating, she attempted to take our order again.

But the service was really besides the point. Everything was relaxed and Roberta's felt like a local haven from your daily troubles. Now on to the real reason we were here: the pizza.

We started with The Good Girl, which had no tomato sauce, but kale, taleggio cheese, pork sausage, and just the right amount of garlic. It was a nicely balanced pizza. I got some saltiness from the crispy kale (which may have been fried), sharpness from the cheese, spiciness from the sausage, and just a touch of sweetness from the garlic.

I also had to order the margherita. I didn't think it was quite as successful, but it was a valiant effort. The dough was tender and soft with a good amount of char (they use a classy wood oven). The mozzarella was buttery, rich and quite stretchy, but the tomato sauce was a little dull. The basil was undeniably fresh (I hear they grow it on their roof) and plentiful. The pizza was a bit wet, but the flavors worked well together.

Roberta's was our first stop of an evening spent eating, drinking, and being cultured in the Williamsburg/Bushiwck area. I won't go too much into the specifics of our night (who really wants to hear about the show we saw which featured lots of girl on girl fighting and subtle lesbian overtones... wait a minute....), but I have to mention the bar we ended up at.

It was The Alligator Lounge, another local watering hole that I had been to before. When we walked in, I realized I was in for some trouble because their gimmick is that they give out free personal pizzas with each drink ordered. The last thing I wanted was more pizza, but in the name of science....

I feel bad even reviewing it since it was free, but it was pretty awful. It tasted flat and bland. It had no flavor. It was a sad, dead pizza. Granted, I have been eating some of the best (and most expensive) pizza in the city, so my tastebuds are a little refined and I might be a tiny bit of a food snob. But, it's free pizza. I should just shut up and eat it!

Right before we left, a local came running into the back and invited us all up front for a drunken game of Bingo. It sounded like fun, but I had a bit of a train ride ahead of me. I can linger for as long as I want, but the truth remains: I don't live in the neighborhood.

Is Roberta's the best pizza in NY? They do a modest wood-oven pizza with smart flavors and fresh ingredients in a hip enclave in somebody else's neighborhood. They get a 7 out of 10 from me.

Is Alligator Lounge the best pizza in NY? It's definitely the cheapest (free), so I'll leave it at that.

A Coal New World

There are so many different possibilities with pizza. You can have thin crust, thick crust, white, deep dish, stuffed, vegetarian, organic, kosher, leftover. The variations are endless. And what's great (but daunting for me) is that New York seems to offer every single option.

One type of pizza that was completely foreign to me was grilled pizza. I didn't know you could cook pizza outside of an oven. But why the hell not? Just slap it on the grill and you've created a whole new pizza experience.

Grilled pizza was made famous at Al Forno restaurant in Providence, Rhode Island and was brought to NY in the 80's by the late Vincent Scotto. Scotto was a sous chef at Al Forno and opened Gonzo, Fresco, and the now closed Scopa here in the city. These Italian restaurants are all slightly upscale but offer the rare grilled pizza.

For my first grilled pizza experience, I skipped the hoity toity trattorias and decided to go to a newer, more casual spot in the far reaches of Morris Park in the Bronx. Coals stands on a busy intersection amongst hospitals and medical schools. The doctors and med students sure need a local watering hole to blow off some steam. And if you eat enough of Coals' grilled pizza, you just might need the doctors and med students for your cholesterol.

The restaurant made me think of a college bar that had been renovated to be more family-friendly. It was definitely homey and comfortable. There was even a cozy little nook in the front furnished with a stocked bookcase and an inviting sofa. Nothing screams college bar more than a bookcase and a sofa!!

At the bar (where I imagine most people know your name), I was impressed by their extensive craft beer list. Maybe I was still in the five boroughs after all.

The grilled pizzas came in two different sizes and some delicious sounding combinations - I was especially tempted by the Sloppy Joe with smoked mozzarella and fontina and the Pure Bliss with ricotta, tomato sauce, and pesto. But I had to try the margherita since it was the most basic and the starting point for all the others.

When the small pie arrived, it was so thin and looked cracker-y. It reminded me of the matzoh pizzas my mom would make for me on Passover. Oh, if only mom had made them this good!

There was nothing cracker-y about this. Sure, it was thin and crispy, but very rich, buttery, and tender. The grilled pizza reminded me a bit of a grilled cheese sandwich (I bet you never saw that one coming), but lighter and more balanced.

The bread was slathered with mozzarella and there were beautiful red mountains of tomato sauce and restrained slivers of basil dotting the canvas. The flavors were in perfect harmony. I was surprised actually since the sauce was a bit sparse, but the strong savory flavors lingered and married well with the buttery cheesy crust. There was also a nice garnish of sharp pecorino cheese which gave the pizza an edgy bite.

I also had to try the fluffernutter dessert which, like the name of the restaurant (the pizza never touches coals) is a misnomer because fluffernutters include both peanut butter and marshmallow. This one didn't have either. It was basically a grilled crepe with a nutella and marscapone filling. It was very tasty, but reminiscent of the pizza I just ate. I'm sorry, but for dessert, I'd like something different than what I had for dinner.

The grilled pizzas at Coals are unique and delicious and I might even have to make another inconvenient trip to the Bronx to try their other options. This is not your usual New York pie, but it'll broaden your horizons and might convert you to the ingenious grilled pizza. Now if only they could figure out a way to make other variations (like fat free pizza) taste this good...

Is Coals the best pizza in NY? It's inventive and really enjoyable, so that's why I give it an 8 out of 10, but this is a creative variation on our beloved pizza and not quite what one thinks of when it comes to NY style.

Some Folks Like to Get Away...

There have been a few times in my 8 years in New York when I've stayed within the 5 boroughs yet felt like I was in a vacation town somewhere far away. Going out to Coney Island makes me feel as if I should be walking around in my bathing suit and drinking piña coladas - as long as I keep my flip flops on to avoid all the broken glass. Up in the Bronx, City Island is a remote hideaway on Long Island Sound that is filled with crab shacks and is sort of a poor man's (a very poor man) Cape Cod. And on just about any street in Jackson Heights, Queens, you're transported to an exotic Asian country populated by Chinese, Pakistanis, and yuppies.

I wasn't surprised that I had a similar feeling when I finally made it out to Bensonhurst in Brooklyn to try the famous pizza at L&B Spumoni Gardens. The name alone made me think I was heading to an idyllic bed and breakfast somewhere in Jersey circa 1973.

After the long subway ride into the depths of Brooklyn, I realized why this place is such an institution. It does feel like a local hotspot trapped in time that makes most of its revenue from curious tourists. It's also huge - you could probably spend the entire day exploring the three different eateries: the pizzeria, the spumoni stand, and the restaurant. And then enjoy your Italian three-course meal in the parking lot/garden area filled with park benches and featuring a view of dreary 86th Street.

The day I arrived was pretty windy and cold so nobody was relaxing on those inviting benches. But there was a lot of action inside the pizzeria. The tables were completely filled so I resigned to standing at the little bar that housed the parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes.

I definitely had to order their famous Sicilian slice, but was a bit hungry so I figured I'd try their round slice as well. The guy cutting my slices was such a stereotypical NY Italian and he was so aggressive and pushy that I was a bit intimidated. I ordered the square slice and I guess I must have mumbled the rest of my order because he snapped back with "A slice of WHAT?" It felt like he was reprimanding me for not speaking clear enough. And I even studied speech in acting school!

I ignored the confrontation because I think he could have taken me in a fight. And instead I huddled off to the side to taste my pizza. The Sicilian slice is different than the square ones I've been having around the city. This is an old-fashioned Sicilian slice with thick crust and the cheese hiding underneath the tomato sauce (as opposed to the thin crust grandma slices that are now so popular).

Hiding is right! It didn't seem like there was much cheese under all that sauce, but I liked the scattered parmesan garnish on top. The tomato sauce was decent but didn't stand out one way or the other and also seemed to get lost in the thick bread. The slice had a soft, doughy quality with a crisp char at the ends. Most of the ingredients melted away with the bread as I bit into it.

The main flavor here was bread - it sort of overshadowed the forgettable tomato sauce and cheese. It reminded me of those frozen square pizzas I used to love as a kid. It was crunchy, doughy, and unrefined.

The round slice was even less exciting and really just filler. It's what you'd expect from a typical NY slice and it did the job, but is not worth the trip. The main attraction here is the sicilian slice, which I could sort of take or leave.

I have read that new owners have taken over this place in the last few years and the quality has declined. That's a shame because L&B still feels like an old school favorite, but the pizza is pretty standard.

If you need a bit of a respite from the big city, there are plenty of other hideaways in the greater metropolitan area. And if you're going to travel this far for pizza, it's a no brainer: Hop on the Q train to Di Fara and watch a true NY legend at work.

Is L&B Spumoni Gardens the best pizza in NY? They do a decent Sicilian slice but it's not worth the special trip all the way out to Bensonhurst. I give it a 6 out of 10 for the thick, tomato-y dough.

Pie-dentity Crisis

About a year ago, the hip new pizza movement in New York City became evident when Jim Lahey opened a spare, homey pizza restaurant in Chelsea with lots of natural lighting. Lahey is first and foremost a baker and has been making delicious pizza-like concoctions at Sullivan Street Bakery for years.

This newer restaurant seems to be called Co. That's what all the press and reviews had titled it. I figured Co, was an abbreviation for something. I just hope Lahey wasn't referring to the chemical element cobalt (Co). That's not among my favorite pizza toppings.

On my first visit (many months before I began this official pizza search), the mystery was cleared up when I saw the big sign welcoming me to Company. Not Co. at all. Yet when I went inside and was presented with menus and noticed the young waiters all wearing logo T-shirts, there was the "Co." once again. So what the hell is this place called?

I've read in interviews that Lahey thought of Co. as the abbreviation for "corner" (The restaurant does proudly take up the corner of Ninth Avenue and 24th Street), so where does the company come from now? My only guess is that it's a reference to the two long communal tables that take up the majority of the dining room. Communal tables are all the rage. They're social, gimmicky, and really make you appreciate the co. Sorry, I mean the company.

But really what's in a name? It's all about the pizza! And Company, or Co. (Seriously, I don't know what to call this place. It's starting to piss me off!) makes individual pizzas in sort of a Neapolitan style. But there are many differences between these pies and the classic Neapolitans. First and foremost, these are cooked in a gas oven as opposed to a wood one. That's sort of a dealbreaker right there. I can pretty much guarantee Lahey won't be getting any invitations to the Associazione Pizzaiuoli Napoletani Christmas party.

It was an off-time when we arrived at 4pm. We were the only one's in the restaurant (which is usually bustling at prime time) except for the corner table of managers in a meeting. We didn't feel un-welcomed per se but I felt as if I saw a little too much of the man (or men) behind the curtain. Shouldn't they have their meetings when the restaurant is closed? Also, because it was so quiet, I became more aware of their ridiculous choice of music. We must have heard some weird French cover of "These Boots Are Made For Walking" three times during our hour-long dinner.

We ordered both the margherita and the flambé. We picked the flambé because I work at The Modern which makes the most authentic and delicious tarte flambee you'll have this side of the Rhine. So I always have to check out the competition.

The bread was pretty good across the board. It's obvious Lahey knows his yeast. Considering they don't use a wood oven, the bottom had an intense char and while the crust was not as doughy and tender as I come to expect from Neapolitan, it was crispy, chewy, and delicious.

I wish I could say the same for the toppings. The flambé was slightly reminiscent of California Pizza Kitchen (which is another of my former employers). That's not a bad thing if you're into that kind of stuff, but the flavors were a bit too rich and sweet for me. The bacon tasted honey glazed and the bechamel was a bit thick. Didn't come close to the light delicious ingenuity of The Modern's.

The margherita was also lacking. The pie was pretty wet and became soggy way too quickly. The pizza was very light and had just a hint of everything. Just a hint of cheese, a hint of tomato, a hint of taste.

I'm sure their more unique pies fare much better. I've heard amazing things about the stracciatella and the popeye. But my feeling is if they can't get the standards right, then you've got to re-think your concept (or at least take those options off the menu).

And the pizzas weren't bad, they just should have been better. Lots of attention was paid to the bread itself, I just wish there had been more thought put into the things that go on top of that bread. And some more thought into what to call this place because I'm getting tired of writing two names. Until they make up their mind, I'm calling this place Cobalt. Take that, Jim Lahey!

Is Co. (or Company) (or Cobalt) the best pizza in NY? The pizzas are a bit expensive and could use a little more oomph in the ingredients and the flavor combinations, but that crust is a stand-out. And it's really the only reason this place gets a 6 out of 10.

Taste of the Mediterranean (Sea, that is)

When you think of pizza, generally the ingredients that come to mind are cheese, tomato, bread, basil, maybe pepperoni or sausage, mushrooms or anchovies, maybe even olives and garlic. Thanks to California Pizza Kitchen, pineapple and BBQ chicken aren't so far-fetched. But one ingredient that is often involved but not predominant is salt.

Well, the ideas change at Adrienne's Pizza Bar in the Financial District. Because the main flavor component of the pizza I tried at their hip restaurant was not cheese or tomato or basil even. No, it was sodium.

Adrienne's is found among the restaurants and bars on Stone Street, an almost secretive cobblestone street not far from Battery Park. I've been on this street before for the annual oyster festival and to eat at Ulysses Folk House. It's quaint and makes you feel completely removed from the city.

Adrienne's opened here about four years ago but somehow it still feels like they're getting their feet on the ground. The cocktail menu seems sort of up in the air and the service is tentative and a bit pushy. The logo features a line through the word "pizzabar". It almost looks crossed out. After some examination, we seem to think that it's an actual "bar" (or line) to represent the bar half of this new pizzabar idea. But it didn't make much sense and came across more as if the pizzabar hybrid wasn't a good idea after all and they decided to literally scratch the idea out all together.

But we surrendered to the pizzabar and ordered two glasses of mediocre Italian red wine and one old fashioned pie with pepperoni. Adrienne's only serves grandma-style pizza, which is basically thin crust square pies - influenced from the Sicilian style.

The pie was served in a pan and it looked pretty good. There were charred pieces of cheese in the corners and the pepperoni brought out some nice aromas.

As I mentioned before, the biggest problem with the pizza was the salt content. I felt as if I had accidentally swallowed a little bit of the ocean. Have you ever been in the ocean and a wave catches you off guard and before you know it your mouth is doing a saltwater dance? I think I may have accidentally ordered that here. I know Sicily is an island, but I'm pretty sure they keep their pizza away from the seawater.

The pepperoni pieces were charred and tasty but the natural salt content of the cured pork just made this salt party even more intense. Every once in a while I would get a welcome burst of oregano that would relieve my taste buds from the saltinity. The cheese and tomato sauce were both fine, but contributed to the salt overload. There was no escaping.

The one redeeming quality here (besides for the tasty pepperoni) was the crust. It was served in a pan and was slightly burnt at the edges, which resulted in some nice crispy cheese and crunchy dough.

The experience reminded me of a pizza party. I can see my younger self in a roller skating rink or a bowling alley or a friend's house eating way too many square slices of this crispy crunchy pizza. It's fun and tasty to chomp down on, but even my 11 year old self would probably be complaining about the salt.

Is Adrienne's Pizzabar the best pizza in NY? I want to taste cheese and tomato and salt should only help bring those flavors out, not overwhelm them. There were a few things about this that were tasty, but the overseasoning causes my 5 out of 10 rating.

Slice by Slice, Part One (Lower East Side)

Pizza and beer. Well, probably more accurately, beer and then pizza. There's nothing better to indulge in after a late night of bar hopping than a greasy slice of NY's treasured pizza.

And I feel like there's no better neighborhood in Manhattan to experience both a drunk beer crawl and a cheesy pizza feast than the Lower East Side. When I first moved to the city eons ago, the LES is where I spent most of my nights out. It's a hip, still (practically) un-gentrified 'hood with lots of restaurants, even more bars, and a handful of late night pizzerias.

I headed down there during the day, which is a strange experience on its own, and hit up these drunk pit stops for lunch.

ROCKET JOE'S EAST:

The first stop was named Rocket Joe's East which was very confusing. I kept checking my Iphone to find out where their West or Original store is located. But it doesn't exist. I guess this store was bought from the original owners and in order to keep the name the new owners had to add the "East." This is what the guy behind the counter explained to me.

What makes Rocket Joe's stand out from all the other NY pizzerias is the addition of sesame seeds to all their crusts. I like sesame seeds, especially when they're on a crunchy crust, so I was looking forward to this prospect.

Too bad nothing else about the pizza stood out. The sesame

seeds seemed to dry out the crust and dry bread was really the only flavor I could taste. I saw the orange cheese and tomato sauce, but couldn't quite place it on my palate. The whole experience was reminiscent of a frozen pizza. It was completely bland and any flavor was pretty non-existent. You have to be drunk to think this stuff is good. And I get it; when I'm drunk my tastebuds are numb and all I want is that chewing sensation. This definitely accomplishes that.

Is Rocket Joe's the best pizza in NY? I should say not. It's cheap, flavorless pizza that is only good for a drunk snack when you couldn't care less what you're actually eating. I was not drunk, so I give it a sobering 3 out of 10.

ROSARIO'S:

Rosario's had to be better than Rocket Joe's. And I remember this place from my younger days. I had many a 3am slice at this joint. So how does it hold up to my more mature discerning palate?

It's not bad. This is a decent NY slice. It's as good as Ray's, if not better. It's not too greasy and doesn't leave you feeling terribly heavy. The cheese and tomato sauce are equally enjoyable. The crust is not as thin as you might hope, but it's buttery and flavorful. And even though I was nowhere near drunk (I had one beer the night before), I enjoyed the NY pizza experience.

Is Rosario's the best pizza in NY? It's good for a post-drinking snack without being too greasy. 6 out of 10 ranks it up there with most of the city's standard slices.

A Tri-fecta of Mistakes

Even self-proclaimed foodies like myself have been known to make mistakes. They don't happen often, but most of my mistakes come from ordering food. That's probably why I'm so neurotic when it comes to choosing an entree. I want to make sure I try the best option on offer. "Live today like it's your last, right?" So I always assume I'll never be back at this particular restaurant and if I don't try what they do best, I may never know.

My visit to Lazzara's was not quite that intense, but I think I should have treated this place as a sit-down restaurant and come in for dinner rather than grab a slice on the run. Mistake number one.

In the middle of the Fashion District is this almost secretive hideaway up a seductive staircase to an Italian sanctuary. We really just wanted a slice. I got the wrong memo (at least I got a memo) about what kind of place Lazzara's is. It's dark and intimate and definitely a restaurant - not a slice joint. There were a few dates and a handful of families when we arrived.

I asked doubtfully whether they sold slices and the woman told us they only had square slices. Perfect! But we needed more than one slice, she impatiently told us. I informed her we were going to eat again later and she gave us the one slice but warned us once again it wouldn't be enough. We were pressed for time otherwise I would have suggested sitting down and trying for a full pie. The two slices came to 5 bucks and off we went into the night.

So, mistake number two. It turns out the slightly ornery waitress was correct. We really did need more than one slice. These thin square Sicilian style slices are known as grandma slices. Where that name comes from I have no idea, but I'm sure some proud matriarch is sitting on Long Island smiling right now. They were incredibly light. Paper thin - almost cracker-like. But it was very crunchy and crispy without being dry.

The sauce was flavorful and very tangy. They were generous with the cheese (which is not the way of most tomato heavy grandma slices) and it was strangely sharp. It almost tasted like a Swiss. It was different, yet pleasant.

My big problem was that I either tasted the tomato sauce or the cheese. They were two different experiences - and both were delicious, but I wanted a nice marrying of the two. I even peeked under the cheese and it was completely dry.

So I'm afraid mistake number three belonged to Lazzara's. The pizza was quite good (and I do want to try the whole dining-in experience to get a better taste), but I had issue with the separation of the cheese and tomato sauce. But if you pit me (two mistakes) against that ornery waitress (one mistake), I'm afraid the loser here is me.

Is Lazzara's the best pizza in NY? It's definitely a nice little find in a restaurant wasteland (the Fashion District) with tasty (if not filling enough) pizza. Their one big mistake (the separation of the cheese and tomato) earns them a 7 out of 10, while my over-use of parentheses probably scores me even less.

Another Pizza the Puzzle

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension of many pizzerias all claiming to be the original and famous Ray's. A journey into a wondrous city of entrepreneurs who have no imagination. That's the red font up ahead and the aroma of cheesy grease - your next stop, the (Pizza) Pie-light Zone!

For those few of you who have never been to New York (or don't leave their apartments in Staten Island), Ray's has been the go-to New York slice joint since the late 1970's. Unless you're a strict vegan or the owner of the Sbarro company, odds are you've ordered a regular slice from at least one of the many Ray's locations. And the running joke is that they all claim to be the Original Famous Ray's.

So which of the dozens of locations is the original original Ray's? How did they manage to sprout up in every neighborhood of NYC? And who is this Ray guy anyway?

I'm not a detective, but I did a little snooping (thank you World Wide Web) and this is one mystery that may never get solved. There is an ongoing debate as to which of the famous Ray's is actually the original. But the consensus seems to be that the oldest documented Ray's pizzeria still stands in Little Italy. It was opened by Ralph Cuomo in 1959. And as far as I can gather, no Ray actually exists (or at least not in conjunction with this franchise - apologies to Mr. Charles, Mr. Liotta, and Mr. Bradbury)

But then in the 70's, along came the Famous Ray's Pizza in Greenwich Village. And many people say this is the Ray's that started the whole slice phenomenon of the 70's, 80's and today (that sounds like a commercial for a lite FM radio station).

The name was trademarked by three owners of separate Ray's in the 1990's and now if anybody opens a pizzeria calling themselves Ray's, these guys get a cut. So somehow it seems they are now all related. What that means exactly I don't know, but I'm not about to go to every Ray's in the city to see if one is better than the other (my stomach hurts just contemplating that idea).

Over the years, I've been to many Ray's on a quick lunch break or after a late night drinking binge. I could never really tell the difference and so I'm going to lump them together as many NY-ers do and give them one overall rating.

The Prince Street store (Ralph Cuomo's 1959 location) has a completely different feel inside than the other Ray's. It's a bit more old-fashioned and rustic and welcoming.

I ordered a plain slice, which the cashier cut from the pie that had been sitting out for God knows how long and threw in the gas oven. This is the way most slice joints work in this city. During my pizza journey, I've been spoiled by pies made to order by a chef or a line cook. But that's not the old school NY way.

Ray's pizza is dirty, messy, and cheap. It's everything people come to expect from NY slices. I was actually pleasantly surprised by my first bite. I got lost in the greasiness of the cheese and the butteriness of the crust. But then I came to my senses...

After a few more bites, I felt a little heavy so I let the grease drip down onto my plate. I usually sop up the grease right away with a napkin but figured I needed to take it all in to get a fair assessment.

This pizza is adequate for a NY slice. The ingredients aren't terribly fresh (that seems to be a new craze) and nothing really stands out here except for the cheese and the grease. There's no balance of flavors or interest in cheese/tomato proportion. But do many people care? Probably not. Although for some reason, many people care which is the original Ray's. And just as that mystery will never be solved, why people love this greasy mess will continue to be an enigma.

Is Ray's pizza the best in NY? It's good for what many people desire, but it's not quality pizza and makes NY pizza seem dirty and cheap. There are many places out there that do better NY style pizza without all the calories and heartburn. But if you want that pain and artery clogging and (I reluctantly admit) tastiness, then Ray's deserves at least a 6 out of 10.

Changing of the Pizzaiolo

Unless you inherited one or were grandfathered in, it is illegal to own and use a coal-burning oven. It's bad for the environment and it's competition for the likes of Grimaldi's and Lombardi's. We don't want any black lung or broken knee caps.

You can imagine whenever a coal-burning pizzeria closes, many budding NY pizzaioli are hoping to take over the lease and get their hands on a grandfathered coal oven. Wood ovens are a different story - they're legal and available aplenty - but it is still nice when you can rent a space with oven and all - especially when that oven is the topic of much praise.

That's what happened to Mathieu Palombino when he took over the space of Una Pizza Napoletana in the East Village. The former pizza place was fast becoming the unanimous favorite of pizza lovers throughout the city. I was a little slow with this current pizza journey and therefore missed trying Anthony Mangieri's creations. Word on the street was that he got tired of dealing with the East Village lifestyle and he just got up and moved out west. He's supposed to be opening a pizzeria in San Francisco sometime soon.

So out went Una Pizza Napolitana and in came the latest incarnation of Williamsburg favorite, Motorino. It has not been open at this new location long, but it is already a hit and seems to get more favorable reviews than its big sister.

I went on a weekday lunch when they offer a great lunch special - your choice of a personal pizza and salad or ice cream for 10 bucks. Not too shabby.

We ordered the margherita and the seasonal brussels sprout and speck pizza. The salad was pretty standard with packaged field greens and a vinaigrette.

The pizza smelled great. I took in the fumes of fresh baked bread and cooked ham and green vegetables. The smell was almost too good to eat, but what's smell without a little taste?

My brussels sprout pie was amazing. The sprouts were fresh and distributed well. The speck was salty enough with a meaty, earthy flavor that was balanced with the creamy richness of the fior di latte mozzarella. The textures were also varied and interesting.

The margherita was not as successful. The sauce was sort of wet and uneven, which made the pizza a bit soggy. I understand that Neapolitan pies have a tendency to be soggy in the middle, but it's not my thing. I think it loses some flavor and brightness when that happens. I could tell this tomato sauce was well made and had a nice subtle citrus quality, but I just wish there was more of it for me to taste.

The dough was a stand-out. The cornicione (the end of the crust) was huge with a fluffy, airy quality. The crust also had a very nice char and a woody flavor.

Maybe the magic is in the oven. Palombino did inherit one of the most highly regarded kitchen appliances in the city. But regardless, he bakes a good pie and uses interesting, complimentary ingredients. Now if only those were things you can acquire when signing a lease.

Is Motorino the best pizza in NY? They do some great interesting seasonal concoctions, but their margherita fell a little short for my tastes. I still give them a 7 out of 10 for authenticity, originality, and some good flavors.

Sullivan St. Bakery's Bread Concoctions

According to dictionary.com. "pizza" is defined as:

-noun,

a flat open-faced baked pie of Italian origin,

consisting of a thing layer of bread dough,

topped with tomato sauce and cheese, often

garnished with anchovies, sausage slices, mushrooms, etc.

So there we have it folks, an actual definition of one of our favorite foods. Now, I understand that definitions are just a starting point and I'm more excited than anybody when those definitions are stretched as creatively as possible. Over the years, we've seen the creation of white pizza, gourmet pizza, deep-dish Chicago style pizza, vegan pizza, etc. But the basic structure should still remain. Or else your product becomes something else.

And when it comes to NY pizza, I expect certain components. You need cheese and/or tomato sauce. For me there is no other option here. You could do white pizza or a cheese-less tomato pie. But you can't do a pizza without both cheese and tomato. Or so says I!

Sullivan Street Bakery, which has moved quite a bit uptown from the actual Sullivan Street (its original location) to the outskirts of midtown west, challenges those rules. Jim Lahey is the mastermind behind the yeast and has been praised in the press recently for his baking skills. In the last year, he has opened Co. which focuses on Neapolitan-style pizzas. I'll save that for another post because today I'm concentrating on Sullivan Street Bakery's Roman style pizza.

There were only a few options left when we arrived late on a Monday. The signature slice here is the pizza bianca, so that's what I chose. And this is where Sullivan Street Bakery and I get into some conflict. I mean this was basically a loaf of bread. Sure, it was moist and seasoned well with rosemary and sea salt. But this is what I'd expect in a basket with some olive oil at a trattoria before we even place our order. I don't care what they do in Rome, this is not a slice of pizza!

I left with a blank feeling. What just happened? I was a bit surprised and disappointed. So I did something I was not expecting to do. I went back for a second visit.

This time I completely ignored the pizza bianca like a one night stand you pass on the subway platform. I chose the zucchini slice instead. Well, I will say this is much closer to what I expect from pizza. It still didn't have much cheese (a little bit of grated gruyere) and no tomato sauce to speak of.

What the very crispy thin crust slice did have was a nice helping of cooked zucchini, some bread crumbs for texture, and a lot of flavor. Whether this bread thing was pizza or not, it was delicious. It reminded me of a homemade zucchini casserole. It was warming, crunchy and a real treat.

There are definitely many variations to the standard definition of pizza. I guess as long as they're delicious and fun to eat, we shouldn't squabble. And if you order correctly at Sullivan Street Bakery, you'll have a new and exciting eating experience. Order incorrectly and you'll wonder how the name pizza entered the equation.

Is Sullivan Street Bakery the best pizza in NY? I can't really put it in the running. The bread is delicious and the speciality "pizzas" are flavorful. I'd rate it much higher in terms of deliciousness, but for the best pizza, it can't get more than a 6 out of 10.

Art and Science and Pizza

Things are constantly changing in this city. It feels like more so than the rest of the world. There's always a new fashion, a new restaurant, a new Apple Store, a new cockroach tormenting my roomates.

The art and science worlds are two that never seem to stop evolving. Technology is constantly surpassing us to the point of where I truly believe we are now living in the future (I mean, we can talk to each other via video now!!!!)

I find it strange but somehow fitting that Fornino calls itself The Art and Science of Pizza. The Williamsburg spot was the hip wood-burning oven pizza joint in the city back when it opened in 2004. And although the restaurant world is now five years older, I don't think much has changed at Fornino.

First off the art: Exposed brick never goes out of fashion, but everything else seemed very 2004. The reviews and articles plastered on the wall are all circa three or four years ago. The music they played was enjoyable, but it was all a little out of date (Elliot Smith and The Shins are too passe for Williamsburg, but not for my Ipod). And the pizzas themselves were good looking, but they've been overshadowed by images of the new Neapolitan heavyweights - Kesté, Motorino, and Co.

The menu was divided into three different "generations": Naples, Italy, and Fornino. This seemed a little arrogant, but promising. I was tempted to order one of their fancy third generation pies with lots of truffles and this kind of cheese or that kind of mushroom, but I stuck to my guns and decided I needed to try one of their basic, first generation pizzas, the famous Mrgherita DOC. I hope they didn't think I was less evolved since I was only ordering a first generation pie.

The servers were what you'd expect from a Williamsburg spot. They were cute baby-faced cherubs with short, dark hair and an apathetic, but friendly demeanor. I had a hard time determining if they were guys or girls, but I was weirdly attracted to them regardless.

And now onto the science: I have never made my own pizza (although I'm thinking about it for Thanksgiving) but there are obviously scientific factors that go into making the perfect combination of cheese, tomato, and crust. And I think Fornino knows what those are, but I don't think they've consistently mastered them.

The first slice was quite slippery and I almost lost all my toppings. The tomato sauce was flavorful but rather wet and unven. The cheese was rich and chewy but a bit tough. I had to hold the cheese orb in place to prevent myself from eating the whole glob in one bite.

The basil was fresh and beautiful (grown in the chef's own garden) but I wish it had been shredded so I could have tasted it on every bite. The crust was thin and smokey, but a bit dark and dry in places.

I have a feeling Fornino shines in their "second and third generation" pies. Most of the favorable reviews mention their speciality toppings. So maybe the art here is a gussied up canvas and the science is a trick to making you think these are groundbreaking flavor combinations. We may have fell for that in 2004, but times have a-changed.

Is Fornino the best pizza in NY? My 5 out of 10 score says that this might have been interesting science and delicious art at one time, but just like everything else in New York, pizza has changed and there's always something new and better out there.

Lost at Serafina

According to their website, the owners of Serafina were lost at sea and swore if they ever got rescued, they'd open up an Italian restaurant. Can you imagine Tom Hanks in Cast Away telling Wilson the volleyball that all he wants to do if he is rescued is open up a chain of Red Lobsters?

Whether or not this story is true, it made me laugh. So the guys at Serafina have a sense of humor. But how is their pizza?

I've been to Serafina a few times before for brunch or a quick lunch. They're a small restaurant chain that reminds me a bit of Patsy's in their uptown locations and rustic decor. I never thought of them as in the running for best NY pizza. It wasn't until my Italian friend Anthony claimed that they have the most authentic pizza that my interest was piqued. Anthony hasn't been here long so he has yet to see how great NY pizza can be, but I figured I'd give his suggestion a try.

We chose the Regina Margherita which features Italian bufala mozzarella as opposed to homemade mozzarella or fior di latte mozzarella. All these mozzarella choices! Mama mia!

The pizza arrived with a double shot glass of red pepper flakes. That struck me as very strange. Were they inferring their pizza might need a lot more seasoning? Or was it just for those who like things really hot? I was going to let the pizza speak for itself so I reluctantly downed the shot instead. My friend Adam smartly stuck to water.

The pie tasted almost like butter. The cheese was very milky and buttery, which wasn't a bad thing, but it left a bit of a milky feeling in my mouth. The crust was very thin and crispy, not as tender and puffy as I'd expect from a wood burning oven. There wasn't much of a char on the bottom, but the ends were slightly burnt. The tomato sauce was a bit under seasoned - now I wish I hadn't drank those pepper flakes.

Overall, the pizza was quite light, even considering the milky richness of the cheese, and not too oily. There were some good flavors, but I found this to be pretty standard wood-oven pizza. I bet it would be absolutely amazing if we were stranded at sea, but since we're in New York, I expect a little better.

Is Serafina the best pizza in NY? It gets a 6 out of 10 because it's nothing exciting but better than your average slice joint and does the job for freshly made Italian pies.