3 Slices

Three slice joints, three different neighborhoods. The quest for the best slice in the city is just beginning.

Exterior of George’s, 181st St in Washington Heights

Sal and Carmine Pizza

I made it through less than 10 blocks of Central Park exploration before my hand dove into my pocket and typed out a desperate cry for help. “Slice near me” led me to a cash only institution situated on Broadway between 101st and 102nd. The Upper West Side.

With a full circle of pepperoni splayed out in front of me, my appetite made a decision without skipping a beat. Before I knew it, the pizza wheel was rolling four quick cuts into the rounded creation, leaving massive slices ready to serve up. I rushed outside to a scattering of outdoor tables with my portion.

The slice oozed an orange-tinted grease as I folded and shoved a bite into my mouth. Still hot from the oven, the dough was chewy and healthily covered in mozzarella. I couldn’t discern much else besides the taste from shimmeringly oily pepperoni cups. My first slice experience as a recently christened New York resident (read: not yet a New Yorker).

It was nourishment enough to find the nearest train station, making my way downtown for a reserved time slot at the city’s newest attraction: Barry Diller’s Little Island.

Sal & Carmine Pizza

2671 Broadway, Upper West Side

After my first greasy find, I began to research the New York pizza scene endlessly. The lineage of pizza joints in the city dates back to Lombardi’s opening in 1905, an institution where many of the city’s most famous pizzaoilos got their start. Totonno’s. Patsy’s.

Speaking to New Yorkers I got a feel for what a New York slice should actually be. The basics: coal oven-fired pies with a crisped-bottom crust that gives way to a soft dough melding perfectly with a sweet tomato sauce and stringy low-moisture mozzarella. Classic variations are often blessed with the addition of basil, lovingly referred to as the margherita (or margarita). Also, reheating the pie gives the crust a crispier texture.

Armed with this knowledge I headed downtown to try the legend itself: Lombardi’s. However, I quickly learned another New York pizza fact that may seem obvious. Not all pizza spots are slice joints. And Lombardi’s falls deftly within the “not a slice joint” category. Without the stomach for an entire pie coupled with my desire to find the perfect New York “Slice,” I began walking in search of an acceptable alternative.

Nolita Pizza

And there it was. It just looked right.

A skinny shop in Nolita, tucked between several trendy downtown boutiques. An old school-enough sign and several pie choices clamoring for attention behind a multi-level glass case.

I picked out what seemed the most “New York Slice” of the bunch. Which, once several other guests popped in and ordered, I quickly learned was not Nolita’s bread and butter. Square-style, deep slices with oozing cheese were flying out of the case while I stepped onto the sidewalk with my “traditional” slice.

The crust was perfectly crispy, crackling while I folded the triangle in half. The tomato sauce was both tart and sweet. And the orange grease was almost nowhere to be found. However, the mozzarella and basil were completely overpowered. The cheese had a quick bite, no ooze to it. And the herbal taste of the micro-sliced basil almost completely disappeared. I enjoyed the texture of the slice, no doubt, but was left yearning for a little more flavor.

68 Kenmare St, NoLiTa

George’s Pizza

Chatting with my roommates about my slice experiences thus far yielded a bevy of local recommendations. One of them extremely close to our pad in the Upper Manhattan neighborhood of Washington Heights. I found my stomach riddled with hunger after a jaunt in nearby Fort Tryon Park. I decided it was time to try George’s.

The sign outside clearly establishes their presence as pizza purveyors yet seems to favor advertising for their pasta and gyros. With ambivalence, I pushed the door open and shuffled up to the counter. I saw the standard pies I have become accustomed to inside the slice joints. Triangular slices next to thick square pies, sometimes referred to as “grandma” style. And again, I chose the slice that seemed the simplest and most indicative of what New York is all about. Mozzarella, tomato sauce and basil.

I began my walk back to the apartment with a paper plate covered by a massive slice of margherita. A walk I hope to soon re-live.

The low-moisture mozzarella was perfectly stringy and mixed well with a thick, sweet tomato sauce. The taste of basil punctuated each bite and was made all the better by a flavorfully balanced dough. The slice was expertly reheated in the oven, giving it a crisp exterior while not shatteringly crunchy.

Maybe it was the proximity or the inexpensive price, but I truly found my go-to neighborhood slice joint. Thank you George.

May the search for the best Slice continue.

726 W 181st St

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