Daily Slice gives a quick snapshot of a different slice or pie that the folks at the Serious Eats empire have enjoyed lately.

[Photographs: Meredith Smith]

I thought I had the pizza scene all mapped out in Boston's North End. There's Umberto's for Sicilians, Regina's for thin-crusted cheese pizzas, Ernesto's for giant gourmet topped slices, Antico Forno for brick oven pies, etc. But there was one Italian pizza staple missing from list: the bakery slice. And the missing shop I had previously overlooked, Parziale's Bakery, provides the missing piece of the pie.

According to the website, the bakery was the "first to introduce pizza to the New England area." Now that's quite a claim! The family business was opened when the Parizale patriarch, grandpa Joe, moved to the North End from Naples in 1907. In which case, that is around the time the first mention of pizza licenses are made in the US (specifically the Lombardi's pizza license of 1905). So all the more shame to only now being introduced to Parizale's.

In typical bakery style, the slices are served room temp straight from the case. The marinara style sauce judiciously covers the top of the slab and has a rich, deep tomato flavor that tastes naturally sweet from a slow cook. The cheese here provides a salty underpinning but definitely plays a supporting role to the dominate flavors of the sauce. Leaning more towards the blond end of the spectrum, the crust is of the soft, squishy bread variety that most resembles the Philadelphia style of bakery pizza known as tomato pie.

See the pizza all the way to the right?

Even standing in front of the case, you could miss the pizza. For holding such a prominent place in Boston pizza history, it's a shame that the sheet tray of bakery slices are tucked in, almost like an afterthought, among the cookies, pastries, and confections. But after grabbing a slice, there is no way that this doughy square will be overlooked on future visits to the neighborhood.

Parziale's Bakery

80 Prince Street Boston, MA (map)
617-523-6368; parzialebakery.com

About the author: Meredith Smith is the Slice editor. You can follow her on Twitter: @mertsmith.

[Photograph: Robyn Lee]

Eater Boston sent out some exciting pizza news over the wire yesterday. Mario Batali is gearing up to add a new pizzeria to his roster of restaurants, which he named as "Babbopizzeria!" on his Twitter feed—making this his first Boston area restaurant. This morning, the Boston Herald confirmed that the 6,5000 sq foot pizzeria will be in Boston's Seaport District at 320 Summer Street. And nothing makes a big name restaurant opening more exciting than a dash of drama. To wit (via Eater): ...an Eater tipster had heard that the new restaurant would be an extension of Batali's OTTO brand, so the Babbo name might just be a way of avoiding going head to head with Boston's existing, unrelated OTTO Pizza, the chain out of Portland, Maine. Batali's no stranger to the local brand, calling them "d bags and thieves" and "#scumsuckingleeches" on Twitter back in February, when he found out about their similar name and logo.

The Boston/Portland OTTO responded, claiming "no disrespect" but noting that it's a good thing they didn't choose a name like "Ray's" because "we'd probably have 50 or 60 New York pizza shop owners hammering us on Twitter instead of just one."

Clash of the Ottos [Image: thebollard.com]

Well this certainly explains why Batali was so heated over the whole Otto Portland branding issue. (We reviewed the Cambridge Otto outpost on Slice back in 2011, in case you're curious about our take on their pies.) Looks like the big man must've already had his eye on getting a piece of the Boston pie. If, as purported, Babbo Pizzeria is an extension of the Batali OTTO brand, then the signature griddle/broiler style pies will be a welcome addition to the Boston pizza mix. Even if the branding is a bit muddied, the pies will certainly be distinct.

[Via Boston Herald and EaterBoston]

About the author: Meredith Smith is the Slice editor. You can follow her on Twitter: @mertsmith.

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

Brick Pizzeria

163 Union Street, New Bedford, MA 02470 (map); 508-999-4943; pizzeriabrick.com
Pizza style: Neapolitan
Oven type: Wood-fired
The skinny: Excellent, no fuss, classic Neapolitan pies
Price: Pizzas: $6.99 to $11.99 each

Great pizza can be found in the unlikeliest places, and if there's one man that knows how to follow his nose to great new pizza finds, it's Ed. If he'd heeded Erin Zimmer's call for the best thing he ate in September, he would have written about the insanely delicious Margherita pizza he happened upon in downtown New Bedford, Massachusetts, at a place called Brick Pizzeria Napoletana. Terrific, just chewy and puffy enough sourdough crust, fresh mozzarella, leaves of fresh basil, and San Marzano tomatoes, made in a wood-fired brick oven. All these great ingredients wouldn't mean a thing if the pizzaiolo owner didn't know what he was doing.

Judging from the pies that Ed had and that Meredith and I tasted on a subsequent visit, pizzaiolo John Goggin knows a thing or two about pizza. He started as many piemakers do: in a completely unrelated field. A specialist in the building supply business for over twenty years, it was his son Jeff who started Brick back in 2008 to supplement his coffe shop, The Green Bean, around the corner.

Once ordered, the pies arrive rapid-fire—I timed their bake at just around 90 seconds—puffed with steam, with the kind of dark spots that leopards only dream of. Transplanted to New York, these would be some of the finest pies in the city; The kind of pies folks would elbow, cajole, and wait in line to get. Eating them in the relative quiet of downtown New Bedford at about half the price of a New York pie makes them downright magical.

Not only was the Margherita ($8.59) a flawless execution of the classic, the topped pies showed that equal care was paid to ingredients as technique. A fine Sopressata pie ($9.99) came with thin slices of the hot salumi buried under the cheese, its edges peeking out just enough to crisp, rendering a bit of their fat and saturating the pies with cured pork flavor. Some punchy olive helped to break up the landscape.

A Rucola pie ($11.99) came sauceless, with thin slices of ham added post-cook, and a big handful of arugula dressed just-right.

I'm kicking myself that I didn't order any of the excellent sounding Panuozzi ($7.39 each), wood-fired flatbread sandwiches in flavors like spinach and goat cheese, or roasted chicken with arugula.

If you're on your way to Cape Cod on route 195 it's a five minute detour that's definitely worth it.

Daily Slice gives a quick snapshot each weekday of a different slice or pie that the folks at the Serious Eats empire have enjoyed lately.

[Photographs: Meredith Smith]

If eating wood-fired pizza and knocking candlepins down with bocce sized balls is your idea of a good time, then Flatbread Company housed in Sacco's Bowl Haven is the place for you. When Flatbread first open, Boston correspondent, Andrew Janjigian reported back that the only real gutter ball was the nitrate-free pepperoni—you can check out the full review here. (Too bad Flatbread didn't have our pepperoni taste test as a guide.) But there is another "clean, chemical free" meat on the menu that merited a closer look, the housemade maple fennel sausage.

The cut is tavern (or party) style, making for some long skinny slices, as well as tiny triangles.

To ensure that sausage was the focus, we opted for the Jay's Heart (Flatbread's cheese and tomato) with sausage added ($15.50), rather than the house "Sausage" ($18) which comes with the addition of caramelized onions, mushrooms, and sun-dried tomatoes. The wheat germ that is added to the organically milled wheat flour makes for a slightly sweet base. With that in mind, I double-checked with the waitress to see if the maple made the sausage especially sweet; she assured me it did not.

I can't concur on that front. I think sweet is the most prominent note of their fine meaty crumble. A healthy dose of maple flavor serves to play up the sweet elements that are already characteristic of the fennel seeds. Salt and red pepper flakes helped to add some balance to an otherwise tasty pie, but over-sweetening really knocked this topping out of the running for being the pizzeria kingpin. However, despite the fine crumble of the sausage, it retained its juices and was spot on in terms of texture. Maybe some more savory topping companions are in order for the next round.

Flatbread Company

45 Day St., Somerville, MA 01938 (map)
617-776-0552; flatbreadcompany.com

About the author: Meredith Smith is the Slice editor. You can follow her on Twitter: @mertsmith.

[Photographs: Meredith Smith]

Pizzeria Regina

11 1/2 Thatcher St. Boston, MA 10002 (map); pizzeriaregina.com
Pizza style: Thin crust pizza, with a crunchy, crisp exterior and tender crumb
Oven type: Brick oven from 1888
The skinny: Skip the topping laden pies and stick with a classic cheese for the ultimate Regina's experience.
Price: Cheese 10-inch, $8.75, Margherita 10-inch, $10.99 , Sausage Caciatore 10-inch, $11.99

Bostonians have been calling the North End home longer than any other neighborhood in the city. Colonists first started setting down their roots there in 1630. So it should come as no surprise that one of the oldest operating ovens is situated in the compact winding streets of Boston's "Little Italy". The brick oven at Pizzeria Regina on Thacher Street was built in 1888, but has been used exclusively for firing pizzas since 1926, and under the proprietary control of the Polcari family for three generation. That makes Regina the oldest pizzeria in the city, and at the top of the list for oldest in the country.

The Regina's empire now includes 22 locations that range from sit down restaurants to food court outlets. However, despite the company line that they maintain absolute product consistency across all their stores, many claim that none of the satellites can hold a candle to the original. And it's for that reason that locals and tourists alike flock to the original North End location.

On any given day, even a week night in August (as I recently found out), a line out the door and down the block is not an uncommon sight at Regina's. For the tourists, Regina's offers a real Boston experience, in a Little Italy setting where you actually hear Italian being shouted out by old men on opposite street corners, and there is a concentration of restaurants and cafes that is more like a European neighborhood than an American one. And while Boston houses two of the oldest pizzerias in the country, the lack of real pizza culture and pizza identity means that locals divide up family pizza night between Regina's and longstanding rival, Santarpio's (reviewed here). In order to understand what Boston pizza looks like, beyond the multitude of mediocre Greek pizzerias carrying the "house of" moniker, a trip to Regina's is a must.

The crusts here are thin, but not New York slice joint thin. At its puffiest points, the end crust lift is under an inch high. Regina's antique gas-fueled oven* burns between 800-900 degrees, contributing to the extra crisp exterior. From tip to end, the bottom of the slice is sturdy and stiff, like it's standing at attention. The pies can handle any manner of toppings—which I know since I put these crusts to the test by ordering the Sausage Caciatore.

*The oven was originally fueled by coal, but had to be changed to gas in accordance with city code.

Regina's makes their own sausage. It's rife with fennel flavor, and despite being served on the pies in slices (which usually results in pork that's dried out), rather than crumbled, it maintains its moisture. In addition to the house sausage, the Caciatore comes with onion and bell peppers. I typically avoid bell peppers on pie because they tend to override the other flavors. But on recommendation of our waitress to try the Caciatore, I looked at it as a good opportunity to see how the other components would fair alongside the peppers. Sliced thick, the vegetables were too watery and added too much weight, so it only served to confirm my reasons for avoiding bell peppers on pies. Next time I want sausage on a pie at Regina's, I'll stick with a straight sausage pie.

Margheritas aren't really meant to be ordered at places like Regina's. Instead of getting pools of fresh mozzarella, you will end up with pies blanketed in the aged, shredded version. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. All I am saying is, save the Margherita for a Neapolitan place. It's not a pizza parlor pie, in my opinion. Getting a little fresh basil is great, but a deeper soul satisfying gratification comes from ordering the right pie at the right place. In the case of Regina's, that's a straight up cheese.

In the whole pie category, Regina's makes my favorite cheese pizza in Boston. What makes it so great? The cheese highlights the best of what Regina's has going on. The crust is all about the texture, stiff and crisp, with a nice tender interior and subtle wheaty flavor. Sitting atop of that is a perfectly melded fusion of sauce and cheese. They achieve this pizza alchemy by mixing Romano into the sauce, instead of sprinkling it on top. The result is added tang and bite to their already vibrant, fresh sauce, and the smooth, creamy texture of whole milk mozzarella cheese, instead of the leathery top that could form if the Romano was reserved to add at the end.

Pizzeria Regina's is proud of the fact that they are Boston's original pizzeria, and in turn Boston should be proud to be home to a place like Regina's. Although I didn't cut my pizza teeth on their pies, if I were to pick one pizzeria to be Boston's pizza poster child, I'd say Regina's would be the number one contender.

About the author: Meredith Smith is the Slice editor. You can follow her on Twitter: @mertsmith.

Daily Slice gives a quick snapshot each weekday of a different slice or pie that the folks at the Serious Eats empire have enjoyed lately.

[Photograph: Meredith Smith]

Oregano plays a prominent role on Posto's Marinara ($10.95). San Marzano tomatoes form the vibrant sauce which is sealed under a veil of salty Parmesan and Asiago. Garlic is applied raw in long thin slivers that, on this pie, retained just a little crunch. They didn't overwhelm the pie and can easily be skirted if biting into a clove of garlic isn't your thing. The overall affect is a nice garlic-scented note throughout. The sum is definitely greater than the parts here—with these few simple ingredients adding up to big flavor. And the chewy, pliant crust (perhaps a little over-salted) with just the right level of char plays no small roll in the final equation. This pie has definitely gone to the top of my Boston pizza list. *

Pizzeria Posto

187 Elm Street Somerville, MA 02144 (map)
617-625-0600; pizzeriaposto.com

See also: Two Meals at Posto »

* I would like to thank Slice'r Damian for cluing me in to Posto's Marinara.

About the author: Meredith Smith is the Slice editor. You can follow her on Twitter: @mertsmith.

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

Located under a black, riveted steel overpass with a sign that says "since 1946," Monte's looks like about as much of a working-man's pizza joint as you're ever going to find, and stepping inside the dim space with its faux-wood veneer upholstered booths tells the same story.

Even the waitresses—who look surly but act nice as can be—are lifers. Ours had worked there for over a decade and was still considered the new girl.

When you come across an old school pizzeria like this in New England, it's most likely one of two styles. If it has a name like Steve's or Joe's or Olympus, then most likely what you're gonna get is thick, crispy, greasy, cheese-laden Greek Pizza. If the name is anything else other than Santarpio's (which occupies its own New England pizza niche), then you're gonna thin, crispy, bar-style pies.

Monte's is the latter, and a fine example of it.

The style is distinguished by an exceedingly thin crust, very sparingly applied sauce, and cheese (in this case a mix of mozzarella and cheddar) that's spread all the way out the the edges of the pie where it melts off the ends and crisps up into dark, well-browned lattice.

That crispy cheese is the best part of the slice.

The pies at Monte's are ridiculously reasonably priced at $7.60 for a basic pie and about a buck (give or take) per topping on top of that. The crust comes out browned and properly cracker-like, while the sauce is slightly sweet, slightly tangy, and very fresh tasting.

For me, however, the most interesting thing was the onions, in a pie featuring some pretty unspectacular but perfectly serviceable pepperoni.

See, when I order onions on a pizza, I expect to see them in one of a few way. Caramelized, perhaps. Sliced and spread over the pie with a bit of sweet char. Maybe very lightly sauteed. What I've never seen before is finely chopped onions.

That's what they do at Monte's, and I Ilke it. A lot.

The onions are mixed in with the cheese and applied to this pie in an even layer so that they soften evenly as the pie cooks, releasing their juice and aroma to mingle with the cheese. Rather than overwhelming slices of whole onion or nutty-sweet charred or caramelized onions, you end up with a mild onion aroma that penetrates the pie but doesn't overwhelm it.

Where does this technique come from, and why aren't more people doing it?!

By the way, if mounds and mounds of melty cheese is your idea of a good parm sandwich, their's is about the meltiest, gooiest, most-cheese-for-the-buck I've seen anywhere.

I mean, check out this $6.25 Eggplant Parmigiana Sandwich!

It would take a man with a stronger stomach than I to finish such a thing.

Monte's Pizza

141 Eastern Avenue Lynn, MA 01902‎ (map); 781-599-0478; montespizza.com

About the author: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt is the Chief Creative Officer of Serious Eats where he likes to explore the science of home cooking in his weekly column The Food Lab. You can follow him at @thefoodlab on Twitter, or at The Food Lab on Facebook.

Daily Slice gives a quick snapshot each weekday of a different slice or pie that the folks at the Serious Eats empire have enjoyed lately.

[Photographs: Meredith Smith]

The lean slices at The Village Kitchen in Huron Village are deceptively heft free. Toppings make up most of the substance here in terms of weight and flavor. Light and airy as a slice of white bread on the inside, the crusts stiffen into a firm base from the tip to bones. The endcrust has a crunch at the outer most rim that is reminiscent of the ubiquitous crunchy breadsticks that jut out of tabletop jars at red sauce restaurants.

This ricotta, mozzarella, olive, spinach, and Roma tomato topped slice ($3) struck a great flavor balance when all the components made it into the same bite. Those bites that lacked the olive's salty punch fell a little flat. On this late lunch, last piece of the pie, the ricotta suffered, turning a bit rubbery. And the reheat may have had a hand in that. (Which raises the question: Can ricotta ever maintain its best qualities when it undergoes a reheat?) The Roma tomatoes made for a good stand in for sauce, though on the cheese slice ($2.50) I sampled, the herb-spiked homemade sauce was the best element. While not a destination slice, these pies hold topping appeal. And with not a trace of grease on either of the slices sampled, the pizza here invites sampling more than one of the thin crust daily slice varieties they offer.

The Village Kitchen

359 Huron Avenue, Cambridge MA 02138 (map)
617-419-3133; no website

About the author: Meredith Smith is the Slice editor. You can follow her on Twitter: @mertsmith.

[Photographs: Meredith Smith]

The crackle of the under crust was the thing that got me on my first visit to The Proper Slice. It formed its own perfect, distinct layer in the pizza crust topography. By the second slice, after the pie had sat on its aluminum podium for a wilt-able amount of time yet remained crisp, I was ready to place the fledgling pizzeria in the upper echelon. Finally, a thin crust, whole pie with a subcrust texture that is only achieved in these parts on a reheat. Ironically, it was the allure of that crunchy bottom veneer that that exposed this pizzeria's inconsistencies.

Round one I got the Sopressata and Hot Cherry Pepper pizza. The sopressata comes thinly sliced, as do the pickled cherry peppers. Good sopressata makes me have to watch my manners. It's all I can do to stop myself from peeling the porky cured meat straight from the slice. It was that kind of sopressata. And the vinegary peppers cut through the pork, tomatoes, and cheese with a spicy punch. On this pie, the cheese was applied in moderation and each slice could be lifted from the whole and maintain a nice stiff line from crust to tip. The dough itself had just the right amount of salt and a faint wheat-y sweetness. Fresh tomato sauce contributed a bright acidity to balance out the other components, and my only complaint was that there wasn't a little more of it.

Plotting and planning for the return trip, I counted myself lucky and The Proper Slice menu makers geniuses. Torn between the plain cheese, Che-Chi's Italian Sausage (sweet Italian sausage, roasted red peppers, onions, and mozzarella), the Proper Hawaiian (mozzarella, prosciutto, Romano, and pineapple), and another Sopressata and Hot Cherry Pepper, I was relieved of making a choice by the Proper 4-Way Sampler. The extra $4 expense to have them create one whole pie 4 different ways seemed worth the agony and second-guessing.

A side-by-side of the cornmeal situation on the first visit (right) and the second visit (left).

During my first visit, I was so deep into the under crust romance that I was willing to overlook the irregular bits of cornmeal that littered the bottom of the pie. But once the first tip sagged, the coarse shards of meal came into sharp focus. About half of the crust cling-ons were black and acrid—gritty cast offs from a previous pie's trip to the gas deck ovens.

Of the varieties that made up this 4-way pie, the Sopressata remained the heavy favorite. However, cheese overkill really crippled this pie. It's too bad because the elements are all good, in the right proportion. In keeping with the first experience, this pie was also light on the sauce.

The use of prosciutto on the Hawaiian held a lot of promise, but the pineapple chunks should've been on par with the meat. Canned and poorly drained fruit made this version a victim of the typical Hawaiian pitfalls. And I was oh so hopeful for Che-Chi's Sausage, but it turns out there isn't an employee at The Proper Slice making his special family recipe. It's is procured locally from a Fenway stationed sausage cart, but the fennel-less ballpark links served whole on a bun don't maintain the same juicy interior when sliced and placed on a pie. A courser grind or crumble might salvage these sausages, though a fennel-packed version would add more to the overall flavor.

I would still tell you to go, but the recommendation comes with the caveats that often accompany a place that is still getting its feet on the ground. It might be worth specifying that they go easy on the cheese. Without the weight of all that dairy, you might just land yourself a pie with a bottom that can support it's own weight. There is evidence that The Proper Slice can live up to its name with a few tweaks.

The Proper Slice

547 Washington Street, Brighton, MA 02135 (map)
617-789-4889; theproperslice.com

About the author: Meredith Smith is the Slice editor. You can follow her on Twitter: @mertsmith.

[Photographs: Andrew Janjigian & Melissa Rivard]

All Star Pizza Bar

1238 Cambridge St, Cambridge, MA (map); 617-547-0836; allstarpizzabar.com
Pizza Style: New York
Pizza Oven: Marcel gas oven
The Skinny: Friendly neighborhood vibe, good beer, and decent pies.
Price: 16-inch cheese pie, $13.95; single toppings, $1–2/each; Specialty pies, $18.95–20.95

All Star Pizza Bar, the newest Inman Square outpost from Kosta and Johnny Diamantopoulos, sits diagonally across the street from the brothers’ All Star Sandwich Bar. Like its well-regarded, older sibling, the All Star Pizza Bar serves inventive food in a friendly and welcoming environment. (In contrast to the Sandwich Bar, which offers salads and dessert, this is a focused affair: aside from beer, sangria and soft drinks, it serves pizza and only pizza.)

The cheese pie at ASPB is a respectable and not unsatisfying version of the kind of pies you find all over the place in New York City, and only very rarely here in Boston. It had a nice thin, crisp crust as a solid base with plenty of flop at the tip, a crisp but not overly dry cornicione, and plenty of chew under the tooth throughout. The sauce, a blend of fresh and canned tomatoes, is tart and very slightly sweet, a fine foil for the oozy blend of 5 cheeses—mozzarella, cheddar, provolone, asiago, and pecorino—that top it.

My one complaint about the pie is that the crust, while nicely browned and crisp, was flat-tasting, especially on the interior. Maybe all it needed was a bit more salt, but my hunch is that they don’t proof their dough at ASPB long enough to develop the depth of flavor that I look for in a crust.

The sausage we had on the second pie was tender, appropriately fatty, and hinted strongly of fennel; along with many of the other meat-based toppings on offer, it is made in house. The “charred” broccoli rabe we combined it with sounded promising, but was a dud. Char, in this case, meant desiccated and papery, since the greens were applied raw, leaving its leafy fronds to scorch in the heat of the oven. I get the point, but I’d have preferred the rabe to be placed beneath the cheese, or be blanched beforehand, to lend it enough moisture to withstand the oven’s onslaught.

I’m generally not keen on the sort of “chef’s specials” pies ASPB offers—buffalo duck confit with Maytag farm blue cheese, or a “Dukes of Hazzard” pie, with ricotta grits, baked eggs and breakfast sausage—so we steered clear of that side of the menu. But from what I saw of these pies, they don’t appear to overload them with toppings, and from my experiences at All Star Sandwich Bar, I’d expect the quality of the toppings to be quite good. If that’s your thing, you’ll probably be quite happy.

The space at ASPB is colorful and inviting, and the staff very friendly. The pizza is, for the most part, solid stuff, and along with with a pitcher of PBR or Berkshire Brewing Company beer, makes for a satisfying meal. It’s occasional flaws mean that ASPB doesn’t quite rise to the level of a destination joint, but it’s definitely the sort of place that I’d be grateful to have as my corner slice outlet, and a welcome upgrade to the neighborhood.

About the author: Andrew Janjigian day-jobs it as an Associate Editor at Cook's Illustrated Magazine. When he's not dismantling recipes for hire, he's likely baking bread or throwing pies into his WFO. He twits regularly as @wordloaf, and blogs much less regularly at blog.dikaryon.org.

Daily Slice gives a quick snapshot each weekday of a different slice or pie that the folks at the Serious Eats empire have enjoyed lately.

[Photograph: Meredith Smith]

Despite being a fairly regular customer, I only recently learned that Flour makes pizza other than their brioche-like breakfast variety. Unless the snaking order line is long enough to double-back by the register, chances are you will be lured in by a sandwich listed up on the big board before glimpsing the daily pizza scrawled up on the specials board where you pay.

The daily 5-inch round pies are available for lunch beginning at 11 each morning. Granted, for what isn't much more substantial than a NY slice, $5.50 is a little high. However, in the context of a high-end bakery where $7.95 is the standard for sandwiches, it's a deal. With these pies, it's more about the artistry of the toppings, as exemplified by this pea tendril pesto, shredded mozzarella, and fresh chive variety. Pea tendrils chopped, salted, and whirled together with oil, make for a spinach-like version of pesto. The assertive portion of the equation comes from the chopped chives on top. The blistered crust has the crunch of a crusty baguette and absorbs the excess oil from the pesto, giving the dough more heft than it might otherwise have. A pass through the deck ovens for a reheat returns the mozzarella to its melted state, unifying all the flavors into a satisfying afternoon meal.

Flour Bakery & Cafe

1595 Washington Street, Boston, MA (map)
617-267-4300; flourbakery.com

About the author: Meredith Smith is the Slice editor. You can follow her on Twitter: @mertsmith.

Daily Slice gives a quick snapshot each weekday of a different slice or pie that the folks at the Serious Eats empire have enjoyed lately.

[Photographs: Meredith Smith]

If you've ever been in Boston long enough to need to buy decent bread, then you've probably run into Iggy's. Their loaves populate the shelves of most stores and markets whose clientele wants bread a cut above of the commercial stuff. But did you know that you can buy your bread straight from their Cambridge bread baking headquarters? Oh yeah. And not only that, they have trays and trays of pizza slices for sell!

I only learned of this recently. I had even bought some lumber just steps away from the office park camouflaged bakery, completely oblivious to the fact that the traffic flow to and from the adjoining parking lot had anything to do with pizza.

The day I visited, a half dozen varieties of slices were available. That's surprising because Iggy's isn't the kind of place that has much on hand but bread. This isn't a sandwich destination. Furthermore, each variety of pizza had three or more toppings. And the toppings weren't just your run-of-the-mill pepperoni, sausage, or veggie. Spicy chopped prosciutto, roasted peppers, and arugula topped one pie, spicy salami, kalamatas, and cilantro topped another, and a third had squash, chive, and goat cheese.

The crust here has a lot of elasticity and a little bit of heft. That works in its favor since the toppings are substantial. The hole structure here is closer kin to ciabatta than sheet pan pizza. It has a some good chew, but from toppings to crumb, these slices fall into the flatbread category.

Perhaps because there is not a reheat option, the white pies trumped the sauced ones. And of the white slices I tried, the portobello, red pepper, and provolone was the best. The provolone had an unexpected depth and tang that made me swear it was Fontina, the mushrooms and peppers were nice and thin and none too watery, and a sprinkle of thyme added a nice herby finish.

Iggy's Bread

130 Fawcett St., Cambridge, MA (map)
617-491-7600; iggysbread.com

About the author: Meredith Smith is the Slice editor. You can follow her on Twitter: @mertsmith.

Daily Slice gives a quick snapshot each weekday of a different slice or pie that the folks at the Serious Eats empire have enjoyed lately.

[Photographs: Paige Brocious]

Stepping inside of the relatively small storefront of Pizza Pie-er, I found myself in a surprisingly huge space with retro lighting, round table tops with pizza graphics on them, a one-of-a-kind wallpaper pattern featuring peppers, rolling pins and various other pizza paraphernalia. It was hard to refrain from licking the walls and saying, "The anchovies taste like anchovies!" Just kidding.

So once I got over all the great distracting stuff on the walls, I considered what to order. While Pizza Pie-er is known for their large selection of toppings and DIY options right down to the dough (with a choice of white, wheat, multigrain, or veggie crust) I was drawn to the pizza pocket ($5.99). It's sounds cute and portable...why not?

The pocket looked like a marriage between a calzone and an empanada. It's fluffy white dough casing was very sweet, flaky, and almost pastry-like. The sweetness was a bit of a turnoff for me but might be enjoyable for some. Already sliced, the pocket oozed with molten cheese and sauce when pulled apart. The salty cheese blend included mozzarella, cheddar, and Parmesan. The bread-to-filling ratio was a little off in my opinion. My pocket was mostly a cavernous bread shell with some pizza trappings. But all in all it was a tasty lunch, and all you can ask for with a little pocket-pizza-empanada thing.

Pizza Pie-er

182 Massachusetts Avenue, Boston, MA 02115 (map)
617-450-0009; pizzapie-er.com

About the author: Paige Brocious is a former Serious Eats intern now helping out with Slice in Boston.

Daily Slice gives a quick snapshot each weekday of a different slice or pie that the folks at the Serious Eats empire have enjoyed lately.

[Photographs: Ed Kearns]

Even longtime disciples of Hyde Park's Tutto Italiano may still have a thing or two to discover. This gustatory goldmine for gourmet tastes related to everyone's favorite boot-shaped peninsula has a secret. Under the watchful eyes of the requisite Azzurri poster, and alongside the finest in cured meats, cheeses, artisan bread, olive oils, and pasta (to name only a few of my favorites), the punctual may find some secretly great pizza.

Full disclosure: enjoyment of the Sicilian-style sheet (their term) pizza from Tutto Italiano requires some effort. First, the slices are only available in scant quantities daily. I left empty handed on three occasions before having the wisdom to call ahead. Second, they are wrapped in plastic and stacked upon the counter. Therefore, unless you're a devotee of the cold slice (and I know you're out there), you're going to need access to an oven.

Upon the advice of the paternal proprietor I opted for a slow-and-low approach for the home reheat. After about ten minutes of obsessively stalking the oven, I went in for the kill. The results were well worth the effort. The crust retained a moist sponginess, resisting just enough to make the crunch at the bottom a real payoff. The sauce held on to recent memories of time in a garden highlighted by fresh hits of tomato and oregano. The cheese, selectively browned from its initial visit to the oven, would likely have benefitted from a slightly longer reheat. However, I was more than willing to sacrifice some elasticity up top to prevent some potential dehydration in the middle. In fact, to allay precisely such concerns, Tutto Italiano also offers a six-inch round pizza cooked without cheese. Take it home, cheese it, heat it, and Bob's your uncle.

Good Sicilian-style slices are a rare commodity in this part of the world. Little did I know that some of the best could be found in a quiet, family-run market, wrapped in plastic. Oh, and did I mention they're only $1.50?

Tutto Italiano

1889 River Street Hyde Park, MA 02136 (map)
617-361-4700; tuttoit.com

About the author: Ed Kearns is on Twitter. Follow him at your own risk: erk3

Daily Slice gives a quick snapshot each weekday of a different slice or pie that the folks at the Serious Eats empire have enjoyed lately.

The Real Deal's chicken, bacon, and ranch slice with a rogue shred of basil. [Photograph: Paige Brocious]

Before my recent trip to The Real Deal, I had only ever ordered their delicious and cutely named sandwiches, like The Darth Vader pastrami and the Lucy Goosey turkey Reuben. Though they're rumored to have similarly great pizzas, I was a bit skeptical that a specialty sandwich shop could excel in any other medium. However, the Chicken Ranch ($3.00) slice is a testament to their ability to do pizzas right.

A light layer of ranch acted as a creamy, tangy, and not-too-sweet sauce beneath the melted mozzarella. Some ripe tomato slices provided brightness to an otherwise mostly white slice. But it was the chunks of chicken cutlet that really stole the show. They were moist and tender while retaining their crisp breading. And the bacon bits added a great smokey-sweet flavor to the equation.

A sparingly charred underside made for a solid, but pliant base. And the last few bites of crust will make you think twice before discarding. It was comparable to a dense crusty baguette that's often better without any dressings. So whether or not you've had the sandwiches at The Real Deal, the slices alone are proof that this is an establishment that simply serves great food.

The Real Deal

736 Centre St., Jamaica Plain, MA 02130 (map)
617-522-1181; realdealdeli.com

About the author: Paige Brocious is a former Serious Eats intern now helping out with Slice in Boston.