[Photograph: Carey Jones]

Emporio

231 Mott Street, New York, NY 10013 (map); 212-966-1234; Emporio.com Pizza type: Roman-style
Oven type: Wood-fired brick
The Skinny: Beautiful thin-crust pies are topped with the very best ingredients at this inviting neighborhood restaurant. Watch out for some excessive charring, though. Price: 12-inch pizzas, $16-18

Shock, dismay, shame...let's just say it was quite the humbling moment when I realized we had yet to review—let alone try— the pies at Emporio. Not only is the modest, inviting restaurant located mere blocks from Serious Eats HQ, but we really, really like the place. On our last official visit, a couple of years back, we may not have given too much thought to the slivers of complimentary pizza served at their daily happy hour. But the two Roman-style pies I encountered at a recent meal proved revelatory—if not on a city-wide scale, certainly on a how-did-I-not-know-this-was-in-my-neighborhood one.

[Photograph: Niki Achitoff-Gray]

There's something genuinely considerate that seems to emanate from Emporio on all fronts— from the staff and décor to the menu and, of course, the pizzas themselves.

Staple ingredients are mostly DOP*, with more perishable toppings and the likes sourced locally when possible. The Emporio Margherita ($18) features shining layers of San Marzano tomatoes, fresh mozzarella di bufala, and translucent folds of prosciutto di Parma. The toppings had an effortless balance and restraint to them—no simple task, considering how easy it is for prosciutto to overwhelm the hushed milkiness of mozzarella or the subtle seasoning of sauce with waves of saltiness.

*Denominazione di Origine Protteta, which essentially means certified Italian.

[Photograph: Niki Achitoff-Gray]

It was a pleasure to find such an incredibly thin crust able to support relatively heavy toppings without sacrificing texture. The pies cook for two or three minutes, at about 800ºF. Delicate and crackly, the base was woven with a latticework of softly smoky char. Emporio's brick oven, fired with a dried hickory imported from upstate New York, definitely imparts a distinctive flavor to the dough.

[Photograph: Niki Achitoff-Gray]

Our end crust had a good rise to it, with a pillowed, chewy interior. With generous browning and a nice salt content, there were no pizza bone graveyards to be found at our table. The only real problem was the eruption of bubbles here and there across the surface of both pies; after a few acrid encounters, I found myself eating around them. As you can see from the photos, that meant missing out on some decent chunks of pie.

[Photograph: Niki Achitoff-Gray]

Our Tuscan Kale and Sausage ($16), topped with fior di latte, pecorino, and hot pepper, was another beauty. The tender shreds of kale were generously portioned and surprisingly sweet and well-seasoned. The sausage, though juicy and rich, fell a bit on the greasy side for my taste. Nor did I get much of a hit of heat from peppers. That said, while I often find that white pies fade away from inadequate salt or acidity, this one managed to hold its ground. I'd definitely have it again, if for no other reason than to more thoroughly investigate those crisped curls of Tuscan kale.

Sitting beside a French window, a gentle breeze at my back, I found myself thoroughly charmed. It's the kind of pizza that echoes springtime—light, airy, vibrantly fresh, a touch crisp. It even holds up quite nicely at room temperature. And best of all, I was able to devour a generous portion without the slightest hint of food coma.

About the author: Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

VIEW SLIDESHOW: New York Quintessentials: 12 Classic Pizza Joints You Should Know

New York has long been regarded as a, if not the, pizza Mecca. But these days, many of our city's most highly publicized pizzerias share increasingly less with the slice joints and classic pie shops that engendered that reputation in the first place.

A quick look at Adam's breakdown of NYC pizza cultural literacy underscores the astonishing diversity of the city's pizza scene. Of course, there's nothing wrong with spreading the love—and we love newer additions like Paulie Gee's, Motorino, and Best Pizza (to name but a few). But as dollar slices proliferate and Neapolitan, wood-fired pies seem to crop up on every corner, it seems high time to pause and showcase some of the old-school pizzerias—those that still exist, that is—that made New York the destination for pizza fanatics worldwide.

Here are 12 classic pizza joints you should know.

View Pizza Map in a larger map

• Arturo's »
• Di Fara »
• Grimaldi's »
• Joe's »
• John's of Bleecker »
• L&B Spumoni Gardens »
• Lombardi's »
• Louie & Ernies »
• Nunzio's »
• Patsy's »
• Sal & Carmine's »
• Totonno's »

About the author: Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza.

The plain pie. All photos taken since the reopening. [Photograph: Adam Kuban]

"Have you been here before?" Frank Balzano, co-owner of Totonno's asked us after we ordered our pies. We had. "Okay, I think we're back. But tell me what you think."

He was zipping around the tiny dining room like the platonic ideal of the dotting grandfather, sporting a Totonno's tee and wipin' down tables. Cookie Cimineri was there, of course, running the floor, hugging longtime customers, and doing her Totonno's thing.

"You're gonna have to go outside," Cookie told a customer who, after placing an order, had posted up by the refrigerators. "You're going to cause an accident or something, I can't have you here."

So, nothing has changed. This exchange was just one of many that brought a smile to our faces, when Carey Jones, Max Falkowitz, and I visited Totonno's this Sunday. Arriving at 1 p.m., we found the pizzeria packed with eager customers: mothers and fathers with their babies, kids paying for pies as dad waited in the car, men in track suits drinking wine alone and gawking at our pies, and a crowd of hungry fans waiting outside.

And the pizza we're all here for? Carey would have you know Sunday's pies—a sausage and mushrooms and a white—were some of the best she's ever had.

[Photograph: Max Falkowitz]

"Why can't all white pies be this good?" Max asked, and it's a good question.

Whereas many pizzerias overload their white pies with ricotta and garlic, putting out oily and cloying pies, Totonno's keeps it simple. A touch of garlic, but not so much that you can't kiss your better half after, and a bed of creamy, stretchy mozzarella make for a pie that we can confidently call one of our favorite whites in the city. You could call it a more laid-back, delightfully milky alternative to Louie & Ernie's ricotta-forward take.

[Photograph: Max Falkowitz]

The Sausage and Mushroom is no less worthy of your table. The bright and acidic sauce, fresh if a little quiet, makes a good foil for the peppery, meaty sausage and tender sliced mushrooms. The toppings are applied with restraint, for a pie that is wetter than the plain but nonetheless crisp.

[Photograph: Adam Kuban]

Carey was particularly fond of the end-crust, admitting, "I could eat those forever." Light, airy and poofy, "In a good way," were words that came to mind when describing our pizza. But always with enough structure, as Max pointed out, for it to still feel like a New York pie. Just don't expect an end-crust as porous and crispy as you'll find on some New York slices. As Adam's photo illustrates, you'll get some nice color, marked by splotches of black on the undercarriage. Our only complaint would be that the bones, if only by default, were our least favorite part.

After our meal, Max and I both agreed that post-Sandy Totonno's was undoubtedly better than the last time either of us ate there. For him, that was in 2010. For me? A mere 8 days before, when I dropped by with the Robicelli's and a mutual friend. (For the record, the pizza was quite good that evening.) But the pies I had on Sunday were the best I've ever had at Totonno's.

When I spoke to Adam Kuban the day after his own visit, he told me, "[the pies] were along the lines of what I remembered when I started going there in 2000." The nostalgic value of those meals, and the benchmark they set for the self-proclaimed budding pizza freak, shouldn't be discounted. Food is never as good as we remember, and yet. For those who feel Totonno's may have slipped after the 2009 fire, right or wrong, these post-Sandy pies offer a rebuttal and a return to form. Three days later, I'm already craving more.

About the author: Chris Crowley is the author of the Bronx Eats column. Follow him on Twitter, if you'd like. In person, your best bet is the window seat at Neerob, or waiting in line at the Lechonera La Piranha trailer.

[Photograph: Lance Robert's]

After famed Coney Island pizzeria Totonno's reopened last week, the Daily News filed an article celebrating the pizzeria's triumphant return.

But it turns out that they got one very important thing wrong. In the piece, author Mark Morales says that "the tiny pizza shop spent almost $150,000 to replace the oven, refrigerators, air conditioners, electrical wiring and even cash registers."

The oven, which dates back to the pizzeria's founding, thankfully remains intact. Co-owner Antoinette Balazano says that such a loss would have been a tremendous blow to the pizzeria. "The thing is I never said that we replaced the oven but my God that's the original oven and that's very important," she told me.

Indeed, as we reported back in December, the only fixtures that got replaced were the tiles.

Of the rebuilding, Antoinette says, "I'm so happy with the way the store looks—I feel like it went back to the old world look. I never liked the colors after the fire...We're fortunate, we're okay. I have to pay, I don't know if its $150,000 or if it might be more. It looks beautiful, the customers are the finishing touch."

About the author: Chris Crowley is the author of the Bronx Eats column. Follow him on Twitter, if you'd like. In person, your best bet is the window seat at Neerob, or waiting in line at the Lechonera La Piranha trailer.

[Photographs: Niki Achitoff-Gray]

La Margherita

151 Ludlow Street, New York, NY 10002 (Map); 212-228-1233
Pizza type: New York
Oven type: Gas
The Skinny: A step up from most slice joints in the area, though the thick crust and cloyingly sweet sauce could use some work.
Price: Plain slice, $2.00, Specialty slices, $3.50

A new slice joint, in the vicinity of our office, getting all the stars on Yelp? Jumping up from my desk and immediately heading over to La Margherita was a no-brainer.

The Lower East Side pizzeria has nearly all the attributes of your classic New York corner joint—the red block letter signage; that glass case, filled with ambiguously-dated pies; black and white framed photos of iconic "Old New York" and Italian-American celebrities. But I was pleasantly surprised to find the florescent-linoleum look replaced by wood paneling and dim, hanging lights.

I ordered a plain slice ($2), their "special" Margherita ($3.50), and a grandma-style slice ($3.50), topped with ricotta and sausage. Then, I made a crucial mistake—I got the slices to go. I figured I could jump into a cab and make it back to the office in just a few minutes, where I could snap some pretty pictures and still enjoy the slices "fresh" from their reheat.

The Margherita was the least appealing of the three, and seemed to suffer the most from the trip. That said, the ingredients seemed to be of decent quality and fresh out of the oven, it would likely be a winner.

By the time I'd finally hailed a cab and sat impatiently as it waded its way through New York's perpetual rush hour traffic, a few minutes had turned to ten; ten to fifteen. I could feel my window of opportunity slam shut. I probably could've skipped the mad dash upstairs, but denial is a power unto itself.

Ed has always said that one of his litmus tests for great pizza is how well it holds up. Let's just say these slices don't exactly qualify for admission. In the room temperature zone, the crust was way too thick and dense; so stiff it was hard to fold, let alone chew.

The cheese was gummy, the sauce too sweet. My favorite of the bunch was the grandma—probably because the ricotta kept things moist, and the burnt, crispy bottom was a step up from the laborious chew of the regular slices.

The granny slice

But flaws aside, there was still something there that urged me to give La Margherita another shot. I returned a few days later to see how a hot slice would compare.

As suspected, eating these slices fresh out of the oven is an entirely different experience. On my second visit, the crust wasn't noticeably thick, and it actually hit that perfect spot between crackery and chewy. The sauce was still too sweet for my taste, but otherwise the pizza turned out to be a totally respectable New York slice. Nothing to write home about, but definitely good.

If I had to guess, it would make a damn fine drunk slice. Given its immediate proximity to countless bars and clubs, that likely accounts for all those five-star Yelp reviews. I have a feeling La Margherita will be drumming up quite a bit of late-night business—and I'll be at the front of the line. Next time we'll have to give their fresh pies and more creative topping combos a go. Let us know if you've had the pleasure!

About the author: Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

[Photograph: Nick Solares]

Yesterday, Di Fara, a.k.a (one of) the best pizza joint(s) on planet Earth, announced that they'll be opening a take-out spot later this month. Here's a copy of their Facebook statement:

Di Fara, next to MORE Di Fara?! The news comes at an eerily fortuitous time, since I recently received the following message from a Slice'r named Jason:

Sadly, a quick look at the current menu revealed that those items had all been cut. Well, Jason, looks like now we're back in business!

I am struggling so hard to stop myself from filling the rest of this post with endless exclamation points/dancing emoticons/phonetic cries of joy, that I'll just leave you all with this video, instead:

[Video: John & Elana Talk About Food]

Also, !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

About the author: Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

Owner Antoinette Balzano with electrician Jimmy Kruger and contractor Rocco Ranaudo. In her hand, a photograph of Lawrence, Louise, and Joel Cimineri. [Photograph: Chris Crowley]

Yesterday, Totonno's opened its doors to the public once again, and we couldn't be more excited to get our Coney Island pizza fix! The iconic pizzeria has been around since 1924, when Anthony "Totonno" Pero left Lombardi's* to open shop in Brooklyn.

*Possibly the only NYC pizzeria more legendary than Totonno's itself.

But lasting influence and loyal customer base aside, the last five years have not been especially kind to Totonno's. First, there was the horrible fire back in 2009, which destroyed the restaurant's back rooms. Mother-son team Lawrence and Louise "Cookie" Cimineri hardly missed a beat, working to repair the damage and re-opening just under http://slice.seriouseats.com/archives/2010/02/totonnos-pizza-reopened-coney-island-brooklyn-nyc.html?ref=search">a year later.

Then, last fall, their renovations were quite literally swept away when Hurricane Sandy battered and flooded massive swaths of coastal Brooklyn. Faced with upwards of $100,000 in damages, Totonno's teetered on the verge of collapse, before finally securing the funding required to rebuild.

It's not every restaurant—or family—that would display the kind of resilience that we've seen from Totonno's. It's a tireless perseverance that has earned them eager champions around the country.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that they make freaking amazing pizza...

We'll be swinging by any day now to get ourselves a bite of one of those luscious pies. Just look at this baby:

[Photograph: Lance Roberts]

About the author: Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at The Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza.

VIEW SLIDESHOW: 1Forno Brings Wood-Fired New York-Style Pizza To Harlem

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

1Forno

135 W 116th St, NYC, NY 10026 (between Lenox and Adam Clayton Powell Jr; map); 212-222-3030; 1forno.com
Pizza style: New York
Oven type: Wood Burning
The skinny: They under-utilize the oven, but decent, inexpensive slices nonetheless. Best in neighborhood.
Price: $2 per slice, $11 per pie; Toppings $1/slice, $2-3/pie

New York-style pizza cooked in a wood-fired oven became a thing a few years ago when Best Pizza of Williamsburg introduced it to the masses,* but I never expected it to make its way all the way up to my 'hood in Harlem. If you discount the now 80-year-old East Harlem institution Patsy's (and we're talking the real Patsy's, not the inferior spin-off locations around the city), Harlem doesn't have much going for it pizza-wise. 1Forno is a step in the right direction.

*Does anyone know of a restaurant that was doing it before Best?

First things first: despite using a wood fired oven, 1Forno's pizza is not significantly different in flavor or appearance than what you'd get in a decent slice joint downtown. The pies still take around 7 to 10 minutes to bake through, and they come out a relatively even golden brown, as opposed to charred and crackling like the pizzas at Best.

Plain Slice

That said, they're still quite tasty. And at $2 for a pretty large Plain Slice, they aren't a bad deal, either. On a good day, Patsy's smaller $1.50 coal-fired slices a few blocks away easily beat 1Forno on flavor. But Patsy's can also be inconsistent, slices charred and crisp one day; floppy and soggy the next. You're almost always better off ordering a whole pie and waiting for it to come out fresh.

"1Forno would be good hangover pizza," said my wife. She's right. The slices aren't too saucy or cheesy, but they're greasy in that pleasing, NY-red-grease kind of way; the kind of greasy that forces you to closely monitor both ends of your folded slice for drip attacks.

Deli-sliced Pepperoni Slice

If you want more grease factor, their Pepperoni Slice ($3) uses extra wide deli-style pepperoni. It's a nice touch, and a testament to the structural integrity of their crust, which holds up impressively against the onslaught.

Underbelly

That crust's underbelly is the only place where you really see hints of the high temperatures a wood-fired oven is capable of. It gets some really nice spotty browning on it, and for the most part, the texture of the crust is near-ideal. A thin layer of crispness followed by a layer of crumb, with tender-but-moist chew.

The only place it's lacking is around the edges:

Crust

Not much rise or color going on there. I glanced back at the dough balls stored behind the counter pre-stretching. They looked slightly under-rested to me, which may explain the overly tight crust structure.

Garlic Knots

The strange crumb structure around the edges defines the Garlic Knots (3 for $1), which looked great but had a strangely fluffy, dry interior with no real chew or stretch at all. We took a bite and set them aside.

Of the two sandwiches on the menu, you can skip the Sausage & Pepper Hero ($4.99), which comes filled with mostly saucey peppers and a few slivers of generic sausage that looks like it was boiled yesterday.

Sausage & Pepper Hero

The meager slices of sausage reminded me of the old "bad food, and such small portions!" joke.

Meatball Hero

The Meatball Hero ($4.99), on the other hand, is pretty fantastic. Ultra-tender meatballs that are perhaps just a touch over-seasoned are smothered in tomato sauce and cheese, placed on a split hero roll, and then sent into that wood oven to toast. The oven man shoves it right into the back, so it actually comes out with a hint of smoky char.

There's no doubt the pizza at 1Forno is decent, but given their facilities, they have the ability to make it excellent. So why don't they?

I asked myself yesterday if "wood-fired" might become the new "brick oven." That is to say, back when I first started seeing the term thrown around in the late '80's, "brick oven" actually had a legitimate cachet to it. You heard it in a name and assumed a certain level of quality. Then it started getting slapped on every other pizza joint around; Pizza shop owners banked on customers assuming that brick was synonymous with good pies, ignoring the fact that good pizza is good pizza and bad pizza is bad pizza—no matter what oven it comes out of. These days, it's reached the point where I almost avoid places that advertise their brick oven.

With the uptick in popularity of the legitimately good, wood-fired places (1Forno falls somewhere in the middle of the pack), is it only a matter of time before the term "wood-fired" becomes a mark of hucksterism over quality?

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.

Prosciutto Cotto at Franny's [Photograph: Carey Jones]

We've been writing about Franny's since the Park Slope pizzeria first opened its doors back in 2004. In the years since, the pie shop has grown into a Brooklyn institution, making its way into round-ups of our favorite NYC clam pizzas, the city's very best places to eat pizza outdoors, and even our 2008 short-list of seven must-eat New York pies.

So suffice it to say that we'll be eagerly tracking this latest turn of events, as owners Francine Stephens and Andrew Feinberg simultaneously relocate Franny's and open a new restaurant in its place. The duo, also responsible for Bklyn Larder, has dubbed their latest endeavor Marco's. They plan to begin renovations immediately, with Franny's current executive chef, Danny Amend, behind the new, pizza-free, Italian menu.

Meanwhile, the Franny's redux is due to open on April 8, just a few blocks away from its original location. In addition to nearly twice the amount of seating, the space will introduce "The Cellar," a private dining space (presumably in...the cellar) with a special tweaked menu from the new executive chef, John Adler. Loyal customers who want to grab one last pie before Franny's heads on out can swing by 295 Flatbush anytime before Monday, March 25.

Franny's

348 Flatbush Ave, Brooklyn NY 11238 (map)
frannysbrooklyn.com; 718-230-0221

About the author: Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

Back in January, we told you that Scott Wiener was hiring new guides for his famed NYC pizza tours. Looks like we're not the only ones whose interest was piqued by his job posting. Scott Rogowsky, of the Running Late Show, swung by for a couple of interviews of his own...and let's just say he has his work cut out for him.

The clips will be highlighted at a special screening at Galapagos on March 28, as part of an episode featuring David Cross, Andrew WK, Alan Zweibel, and our very own Scott Wiener!

Check out the Scott-on-Scott pizza action below:

Part 1: Tour guide interview

Part 2: Bad tour guide experience

About the author: Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at The Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza.

[Photographs: Nick Solares]

Joe's Pizza

150 East 14th Street, NY NY 10003; map); (212)388-9474; joespizzanyc.com
Pizza Style: NYC
Oven Type: Gas
The Skinny? Quintessential NYC street slice, replicated almost perfectly at the new location.
Price: Slice $2.75

I went to high school a few blocks away from the original Joe's Pizza, back when it sat at the intersection of Carmine and Bleecker. It was my go-to slice back then; an affordable snack that I could grab while skipping class and heading over to Bleecker Bob's to peruse records. In retrospect, I took those slices for granted, just as I did the rest of my wayward youth. This was in the late 1980's, and although Joe's had been open for well over a decade, I don't think it had quite attained the quintessential NYC status it holds today. The amazing thing is, the pizza at Joe's hasn't changed at all in the ensuing years—it remains as classic an example of the New York street slice as I've ever known.

What has changed, and drastically so, is the city itself. We have lost neighborhood slice joints like Joe's at an alarming rate. The pizzeria was actually forced to move back in 2005, but thankfully only a few doors down the block, on Carmine. The assault on traditional slice joints comes not only from gentrification, escalating rents, and the encroachment of national chains, but also, somewhat paradoxically, from the allure of rapidly proliferating $1 slice joints. It may be hard to argue with the cost of a $1 slice; what it delivers in the way of value is another matter entirely.

Granted, New Yorkers have enjoyed a renaissance of high-end pizza of late, especially for lovers of Neapolitan-style pies. And Artichoke Pizza has done a good job of generating a market for $4-5 slices. But what is increasingly missing, especially in the East Village / Union Square area, is the middle ground: authentic NY slices for under $3, at the ideal intersection of cost and quality.

Which is why I'm so giddy that Joe's has, at long last, expanded. The new 14th Street and 3rd Avenue pizzeria is mere blocks from my home, meaning that I've eaten there on more than a few occasions since it opened earlier this month. I couldn't be happier to report that "new" Joe's is still the real deal. It's a pure slice joint—no heroes, wraps or pasta—and at its best, the slices are virtually identical to those at the flagship location. Even when they don't quite meet those lofty standards, it's still easily my top neighborhood pick.

What to order

The plain cheese slice ($2.75) is a sure bet, especially if a pie looks fresh. I personally prefer a slightly warm slice that has been sitting for a bit to a piping hot reheat, but even the latter is a solid option.

The crust is thin in comparison to most other classic slice joints, and positively anemic when compared to most anything from Artichoke. It is crunchy and rigid enough to avoid complete tip sag, but still pliant, giving a pleasing textural contrast. This is a slice that is eminently portable—just fold and go.

The sooty blisters that are such a hallmark of the original Joe's are starting to appear on the pies on 14th Street as well, though they were decidedly absent on my initial visits.

The sauce—mild, slightly sweet and blessedly low in acidity—and the cheese—a milky low moisture mozzarella—are applied in perfect proportions for the thin crust. This slice is all about synergy, as so many have noted before.

The Sicilian ($3) is actually my favorite slice at Joe's, but it needs to be fresh from the oven...reheats tend to rob much of the life and sponginess from the crust.

But at its best, it's deceptively light and airy, with a crisp exterior giving way to a yeasty, honeycomb-structured interior. The cheese and sauce are also applied with the same harmonious balance as the regular slice.

What not to order

Unless you are getting a whole pie made to order, I would steer clear from any toppings. There always seems to be a beleaguered pepperoni pizza ($3.50) behind the display case, looking an awful lot like a regular cheese pie with some cold pepperoni thrown on top. Not only have the flavors never mingled in the oven, but the pepperoni is practically screaming "I'll never be crisp." Instead, it leaches its oil all over the pie, perching soggily on its bed of cheese. The same holds true for other toppings, so order at your own risk. If you insist on ignoring my good advice, at least insist that they leave the slice in the oven for as long as possible—they have a tendency to under-heat things when left to their own devices (this applies to the Sicilian slice as well).

I wanted to like the fresh mozzarella slice ($3.50), but I'm just not a fan. The cheese becomes desiccated, losing much of its flavor. I also discovered that the cheese on the regular slice adds a crucial structural component, holding the crust together where it ruptures.

The cheese on the fresh mozzarella slice is so sparsely dispersed that it provides no help whatsoever in this department.

Joe's Pizza is most assuredly my new go-to slice in the neighborhood, and I won't take it for granted this time around. Just as Joe's in the West Village is an easy recommendation for the area, the same holds true here. There's simply no reason to spend more than $2.75 a slice in these parts, and there is certainly no reason to spend less.

About the author: Nick Solares is an NYC-based food writer and photographer. He has published Beef Aficionado since 2007. He has been a Serious Eats contributor since 2008 and has written 400+ restaurant reviews and feature articles.

[Photographs: Niki Achitoff-Gray]

Brooklyn Central

289 5th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11215 (Map); 347-725-4891; brooklyncentralpizza.com   Pizza type: Neapolitan
Oven type: Stefano Ferrara wood-fired brick oven
The Skinny: Roberto Patriarca is making truly wonderful Neapolitan-style pies in his Park Slope pizzeria, with a menu divided into traditional "Old World" toppings and inventive "New World" combos. Price: Salads, $9; Starters, $8-12; Old World Pies, $9-18; New World Pies, $15-18

You're probably familiar with the scene: Dim lights dangle in tarnished metal cages, casting soft circles of light onto brick walls and a long, inviting bar. The yawning tiled oven beckons from a back corner. Welcoming, low-key, warm; it's the kind of place that makes you feel like you live next door. What's not to like? The staff will know you by name any minute now. Of course this is where you want to have that date on Friday, your next birthday party, your girls' night out.

It's a formula that seems to define a burgeoning class of pizzeria, of the wood-fired, Neapolitan, up-and-coming Brooklyn variety. And it looks great. But all too often, it simply doesn't add up to very good food. To the point that these days, I find myself more skeptical of an alluring décor and stunning oven than of, say, the sight of a poorly maintained corner joint. So, while I may have found Brooklyn Central charming, I wasn't exactly holding my breath for great pizza.

The wood-fired Stefano Ferrara oven ranges from the high 800s to 1000º F, depending on the volume of pies. Pizzas are in and out in 90 seconds or less. [Photograph: Alice Gao]

Boy, was I off the mark. Chef-owner Roberto Patriarca isn't just making good pizza, he's making truly wonderful Neapolitan-style pies. When we gave the Park Slope restaurant a First Look back in October, the Italian-born Patriarca was working alongside MPM frequenter Matt Hyland. The pair have since parted ways, but the menu maintains their original thematic divide between traditional "Old World" toppings and a more inventive array of "New World" combos.

The New World pizzas are all named after Brooklyn neighborhoods, in keeping with the restaurant's ode to the 5th Avenue train line that used to run through the area. There's not a strong correlation between the combos and their titles, and at times the menu feels gimmicky. But inventive and gimmicky is a far cry from wacky and ill-conceived. You'll be hard-pressed to find anything you haven't seen on a pizza before, let alone anything barbecued, deep fried, or seafoody. The distinction is more focused on classic Italian versus Italian-American, from where Patriarca sources his ingredients (more on that later) to the combinations themselves.

Leopard-spotting and the occasional charred dome are echoed by a healthy swath of spots beneath.

Toppings aside, the pizzas all share a damn fine crust. The center falls on the soupy side, but manages to thoroughly avoid sogginess. On one visit, there was some welcome crispness to the base; on another, I thought it could have used a few more seconds in the oven. Both times, though, the pillowy cornicione was tender, chewy, and studded with smoky bubbles. Patriarca also pushes the fermentation envelope, giving the bread a lively yeastiness.

The DOC ($15) emerged first, a shimmering landscape of delicate mozzarella disks and swirling rivulets of tart-sweet San Marzano tomato sauce. Patriarca tops all the Old World pies with fresh bufala mozzarella, imported from Italy. The soft, creamy bites are a special treat, particularly for the price.

Another Old Worlder, the Rapini ($16) is an impressively balanced pie. The broccoli rabe comes out remarkably supple, hitting that friendly side of al dente so crucial to bitter greens. The sausage makes for the perfect foil: Juicy, rich, and powerfully savory, it was a much-needed respite from the series of dry, mealy sausages I've encountered of late. Tied together by the mellow base of bufala mozz and that same unbelievably tender crust, it's a great winter warmer.

The cheeses on Brooklyn Central's New World pies come from Lioni Latticini, in Bensonhurst; the meats are sourced from M&S Prime Meats, conveniently located across the street from the pizzeria.

Just look at that beauty! Matte green crumbles of pistachio on a slick of buttery cheese...tantalizing, isn't it? Well, hang on to your hats, folks—I am in love with this pizza and I have a feeling it's about to make me some lifelong enemies.

The white Coney Island ($18) combines fresh cow's milk mozzarella, taleggio, pistachios, honey, and, yes, truffle oil. I wish I could side with the haters and declare that the oil makes the whole pie taste cloyingly artificial. But...it just doesn't. It probably helps that Patriarca doesn't drizzle the stuff directly onto his pizzas—he creates a ricotta-based spread that ensures an even, conservative distribution of the oil. Between the honey and the nutty sweetness of the pistachios, the Coney Island is definitely a desserty pie, so do consider requesting it to come out last; do not consider leaving it off your order.

If you somehow make it through your meal and have room for more, Brooklyn Central also serves up a variety of pizza-inspired desserts. The Banana-Nutella Calzone ($8) is pretty much exactly what it sounds like: a gooey, oozing mass of banana and chocolatey hazelnut spread, encased in pizza dough and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Here's what it looks like on the inside:

I tend to find Nutella overwhelmingly sweet and dense, and this dish was no exception (my dining companions, on the other hand, polished the whole thing off in under 5 minutes). But honestly, so what? I may not be back for the dessert, but there's no doubt I'll be returning to Brooklyn Central in the very near future. Probably for a girls' night out.

About the author: Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

[Photograph: Adam Kuban]

That's right, folks. As of today, the new Joe's Pizza is officially open for business. And according to Eater, they're still hitting the classic New York slice on the nose. We'll be heading over to 14th and 3rd to check it out ASAP!

In the meantime, read why we think the Greenwich Village location is a NYC quintessential »

VIEW SLIDESHOW: American Flatbread: A Dose of Sweetness at NY Pizzeria

[Photographs: Niki Achitoff-Gray, unless otherwise mentioned]

American Flatbread

205 Hudson St, New York, NY 10013 (Map); 212-776-1441; americanflatbread.com Pizza type: Flatbread
Oven type: Clay, wood-fired
The Skinny: Toppings-heavy thin crust pies land on the sweet side; stick with the basics for best results. Price:Salads: $6.50-8.50; Pizzas: $10-17 (small); $13-22 (large)

As longtime fans of American Flatbread's frozen pizzas, we were pretty jazzed to learn that the Vermont operation was opening a restaurant in our own backyard. The company got its start in 1990, as a hybrid pizzeria-wholesale bakery based out of a farmhouse in Waitsfield, VT. Owner George Schenk prepared his par-baked frozen pies Mondays-Thursdays, serving the fresh stuff to diners on Friday and Saturday nights. Over the years, he has gone on to open two successful franchise locations in Vermont; the new restaurant, run by Tribeca Rooftop owner Billy Reilly, marks American Flatbread's very first foray into New York.*

Schenk tapped into the locavore movement early on, with an emphasis on organic ingredients—often sourced directly from the farm adjacent to his flagship restaurant—and humanely-raised meats. Coupled with the fact that any of their pizzas can be ordered on a gluten-free crust from Peace of Mind Bakery ($4), American Flatbread's menu will undoubtedly be a draw to those seeking relatively healthful, eco-friendly pizza.

*A now-void licensing agreement with Flatbread Company also gave birth to a string of 11 markedly similar menus across New England, Canada, and Hawai'i.

The clay oven burns a mix of hardwoods.

Like much of Tribeca's commercial real estate, the space is cavernous, featuring high ceilings and wrap-around picture windows. During daylight hours, the sun-soaked dining room has a business-casual appeal in keeping with Reilly's goal of attracting the local lunch crowd. Come evening, the lights are dimmed, throwing the oven's glow into sharp relief. Bar-style seating gives curious diners the opportunity to watch American Flatbread's pies slide in and out of the wood-fired oven, made of clay hand-dug from Schenk's Waitsfield property. It's far from cozy, but considering its size, the restaurant manages to give off a warm, inviting atmosphere.

There's a definite Ben & Jerry's element to American Flatbread, and not just because these folks happen to hail from Vermont. Humble beginnings and boundless enthusiasm are part of it—both brands seem to reflect a genuine excitement for executing a classic American staple, with an of-the-people-by-the-people, can-do attitude. There are the fanciful topping combinations, like Mopsy's Kalua Pork ($16; $21), that come with eyebrow-raising descriptions—some long enough to fill a small pamphlet ("House smoked free-range pork shoulder, homemade organic mango BBQ sauce, organic red onions, pineapple, VT Butter & Cheese Chevre, whole milk mozzarella, Blythedale Farm Cooksville Grana, Grana Padano and fresh herbs," for example).

And then there's the more literal side—a touch of dessert-like sweetness to the pies. It's a trait that Ed Levine noticed back in '05, when reviewing their frozen pizzas for A Slice of Heaven. "The only slightly strange aspect of this pizza was its sweet smell," he recalls. "Sure enough, when we looked on the box for ingredients, there it was, pretty high up on the ingredient list: pure Vermont maple syrup."

That syrup makes its way into any number of dishes on the menu—American Flatbread considers it a signature ingredient, using it as their primary sweetener in everything from salad dressing to sausage. Luckily, sweetness isn't endemic to the pies at American Flatbread, nor is it always a bad trait, though it may not appeal to all palates. The aforementioned Mopsy's Kalua Pork, for instance, gets a pretty strong tart-sweet hit from the pineapple, not to mention the mango barbecue sauce. The pie itself is not for the weak of heart, and it's definitely not for the pizza purist. In fact, it's so toppings-heavy that the crust seems more afterthought than cornerstone. But risk-takers inclined toward dense, hearty meals and punchy, in-your-face flavors may find Mopsy's right up their alley.

A large pie, half New Vermont Sausage, half Mopsy's Kalua Pork.

The New Vermont Sausage ($15; $20), on the other hand, brings more of an earthy sweetness to the table, combining maple-fennel pork sausage, sundried tomatoes, and caramelized onions. Mushrooms, mozzarella, herbs, and Grana offer some counterbalance, but my sausage was dry and grainy, with a strangely bittersweet aftertaste.

Even the Spiced Pecan & Winter Vegetable Salad ($8.50) fell on the sweet side, with a syrupy orange-basil vinaigrette that over-emphasized the sugary roasted beets and squash.

The Spiced Pecan & Winter Vegetable Salad could have used more salt and acid.

The dough, at least, is free of sweeteners. The wood-burning oven hovers at about 800º F, for a 4-12 minute cook (depending on size and toppings). American Flatbread's pies are thin, verging on crackery near the center, with generous blistering at the edge and a smattering of dark, smoky spots beneath. Each pie is brushed in housemade garlic oil and sliced in a grid, party-style. The rise is nice, with an airy hole structure, and the interior is chewy, if a bit dry. Their formula seems to be a little low on salt, but since every flatbread on the menu comes topped with Grana Padano and Blythdale Farm Cookeville Grana, it's hardly the end of the world.

Mopsy's Kalua Pork, underskirt

If your tastes lean strictly savory, we recommend sticking to the basics. We found Schenk's Medicine Wheel ($11; $15) to be even-keeled and flavorful, neither too sweet nor too bland. Similarly, the TriBeCa Community Revolution Bread ($13; $18) hit a friendly balance. It was a bit difficult to find the tomato sauce under the thickly layered cheese, and it was definitely short on salt, but the dusting of herbs and mushrooms gave a warm, woodsy aroma to the pie; for a cold winter's night, it definitely hit the spot.

The Medicine Wheel. [Photograph: Max Falkowitz]

American Flatbread may not serve up the greatest pizza in town, or even downtown, for that matter. But in just over a month, the restaurant has garnered its fair share of praise. In a neighborhood like Tribeca, where options are limited, it's a dependable destination—perhaps the best in the area—that's bound to satisfy pizza cravings and appetites alike.

Click through the slideshow to see more photos »

About the author: Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza.

VIEW SLIDESHOW: Krescendo: Is Elizabeth Falkner's Pizzeria Worth a Trip on the A Train?

Finocchio Flower Power [Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

Krescendo

364 Atlantic Ave, New York, NY 11217 (Map); 718-330-0888; krescendobrooklyn.com
Pizza type: Neapolitan
Oven type: Brick, wood-fired
The Skinny: Perfectly average pies don't live up to the hype.
Price:Appetizers and salads, $7-$15; Pizzas, $13-$17; Desserts, $6-9

Hype is a devious creature. Great press can work wonders in the restaurant business; it can also build expectations fundamentally disproportionate to reality. Such was the case with our recent excursion to Krescendo. Maybe it was chef Elizabeth Falkner's exceptional reputation, or the excitement generated by Pete Wells's recent two star review in The New York Times. Regardless, we walked in hoping for transcendent pizza. What we found was a good neighborhood Neapolitan joint. No more, no less.

The space is everything a neighborhood joint should be: friendly, warm, neither too big nor too loud. A bright red façade opens to a brick-walled dining room, flanked by a generous wooden bar with plenty of stools for sidling up to a glass of wine and a pie. The rear of the restaurant houses the pizza station, complete with a gold-tiled wood-fired oven on display for those who want to head back and watch the action.

But we're more interested in what comes out of that oven, aren't we? Let's get the heavy-hitter out of the way first.

The cheekily-named Finocchio Flower Power ($16), the same pie that won Falkner first place in the Caputo World Pizza Championship in Naples in 2012, garnered lavish praise from Wells. Indeed, what we received had the sure-fire signs of greatness. The combination of anise-y braised fennel, chunks of juicy fennel sausage, and veiny fennel fronds makes for a subtle, layered topping. We couldn't find any vestiges of the titular fennel flowers; then again, we didn't pick apart the entire pie in our search.

Some may find that there's a bit too much provolone and cream blanketing the dough, but the dish is unquestionably delicious in that fat-on-bread sort of way.

For the record, that bread—the pizza crust, that is—was good. At least, most of the time (notable exceptions in a bit). Tender and well-seasoned, it had more of an even golden-brown color than a typical leopard-spotted Neapolitan crust. Nobody would mistake it as "artfully charred," as black-spot apologists like to call it, though it deftly passed the "is-it-still-tender-and-flavorful-even-when-cold?" test that should be a standard assay for pizzerias.

Polpette al Forno

The pizza is the best thing on the menu, which is a good thing, since we were thoroughly unimpressed with the quality of our opening courses. This was surprising to us, considering how much Wells, not to mention Vogue's Jeffrey Steingarten—both friends of Ed Levine and colleagues who possess trusted taste buds—had heralded that non-pizza portion of Krescendo's menu. We can only assume that it came down to luck of the draw.

The first of our plates was the Polpette al Forno ($9). The three meatballs arrived so dry and tough that we had trouble cutting through them with the side of a fork. Under-seasoned and over-ground, they left an unpleasant taste in our mouths—literally and figuratively. The sauce, at least, was fresh, delivering some much-needed brightness and moisture to the dish.

Frittele di Baccala Con Cannellini

In the Frittele di Baccala Con Cannellini ($12), the cod and potato fritter proved light and crisp, if subtle in salt-cod flavor. Sadly, the bed of cannellini on which it perched was beyond al dente, edging into raw territory. The beans were tough enough that we pushed the plate away unfinished, hoping that the pasta and pizza would prove more rewarding. [Insert your "Californians and their crunchy vegetables" joke of choice here].

Pappardelle alla Bolognese

We found the pasta in the Pappardelle alla Bolognese ($20) to be wonderfully tender and perfectly cooked. Which made it a crying shame that the ragú was so thin that it would have better borne the title zuppa. A few token pieces of wan ground meat floating in ruddy broth does not make for a satisfying course, no matter how good those noodles are.

The Oven

But enough of that; back to the pizza. As the Times proclaimed, the crusts are "exceptionally light," though at least one of our pies had some issues achieving the "good 'crumb structure'" mentioned. A quick look at the cornicione will demonstrate:

Cornicione

Do you see any holes or airiness in there?

Underbelly

Many folks can find typically tender and (ok, we'll admit it) somewhat "soupy" traditional Neapolitan crusts to be too soft. Falkner's pies ranged from tender with just a bit of sag, to outright crackery-crisp, allowing you to fold-and-hold them like a New York slice. Consistency issues aside, this may be a wisely informed decision, based on the relatively thick layers of cheese and toppings to which she's partial. "Let the crust fit the toppings" is a good motto for pie-slingers to subscribe to.

Bianca

While none of the other pies reached the heights of flavor found in the fennel pie, many showed promise, if a bit of poor engineering. It's the kind of food that is just good enough that you wish the chef would make that final push to take it to brilliant.

For instance, in our Bianca ($15), the two bits of kale that managed to peek out from their four-cheese shroud turned beautifully crisp and sweet as they caramelized in the heat of the oven. Meanwhile, the rest steamed under its white blanket, pulling away as a solid mass when we tugged at it with our teeth. Why not let all the kale peek out? (Oh, and could we have a sprinkle of salt while you're at it?)

The Cure

The Cure ($15) combined good salami with fresno chilis, mozzarella, and a dusting of pecorino. Simple, balanced, and tasty, but couldn't the edges of that salami have been browned just a tad? It's the kind of pie that makes you wish you were eating the soppresatta pie from Motorino.

Cannolo

Unsurprisingly, one of the most redemptive elements of Krescendo's menu is the desserts. Judging from the Cannolo ($6) alone, you wouldn't guess that Falkner is the woman behind San Francisco's Citizen Cake and Orson, but it's a fine dessert nonetheless. Crisp, greaseless, and stuffed with a not-too-sweet ricotta filling, it hits a perfect balance of dark chocolate, pistachio, and bitter-sweet candied orange zest. Our cannolo came with a few crunchy-sweet slices of candied fennel stems, as well—an altogether more satisfying use of the vegetable than on our pizza.

Tartufo

The hazelnut and chocolate Tartufo ($9) is another excellent dessert. We could have managed another helping or three of the excellent salted caramel sauce and crumbled sbrosolona, a shortbread-like Italian tart.

Cassata

Our version of the Cassata ($9) looked markedly different than the one pictured in the Times review. In fact, we realized that the dessert is composed of the exact same elements as the cannolo. That is, if you took away the unifying crunchy shell, added icy tangerine sorbet, and topped it with three campari-soaked cherries. Our sponge cake was more mushy and wet than moist and spongy; of the two desserts, the cannolo is a clear winner.

So the question remains. Is Krescendo worth a trip on the A-train?

Head to Krescendo for dessert. Or even go for their pizza—if these pies been coming out of this oven a decade ago, we would have been proclaiming their genius. But the fact is, with our current access to truly remarkable Neapolitan-derived pizza in New York, what we've eaten at Krescendo is, as the Cookie Monster used to say, good, but not delicious. It's the kind of place you'd be happy to have on your block; the kind of place you'd even travel to if your friends lived near by.

Judging by the fleeting glimpses of greatness that we experienced, it's possible we happened to hit Krescendo on two off-nights. That's what we hope, anyway—Falkner is too talented for us to think otherwise.

In this day and age, plain old good pizza just isn't good enough for anything beyond a comfortable neighborhood joint. If that's Falkner's goal, then she has succeeded, no changes necessary. But if her goal is great pizza, there are still a few details that need working out.

- Niki Achitoff-Gray, J. Kenji López-Alt, and Ed Levine