Pizza.
A simple combination of cheese, bread, sauce and grease - but when it's done right, it becomes a cosmic experience that can lighten even the most hardened soul and deliver unmatched joy to not only our tastebuds but our lives in general. Well, that's at least how I feel. Nonsense aside my time in the Big Apple has allowed me to experience pizza in many forms, at a plethora of locations with varying results. So, like any good writer, I began to compile my thoughts in an effort to share my insights with the world - my Pizza Portfolio, my By The Slice Scrapbook, my Marinara Memoirs if you will.
So go on - take another little pizza my heart....
99¢ FRESH PIZZA
The Spot: As you make your way down the wind whipped streets near Port Authority you’ll spot this faded green awning as one of the few food oases in an otherwise “I Heart NYC” saturated landscape. Admittedly, the fact that the word “fresh” was the smallest of all the words on their sign had me worried - but you know the old saying, “Don’t judge a dollar pizza place by its decrepit signage.” - so I didn’t.
The Setting: The three-oven operation appears to be running itself out of a restaurant that at one time served several food options, as evident by the numerous signs for smoothies, ice cream and coffees that are no longer available - as the owner will sternly tell you.
The Setting: The three-oven operation appears to be running itself out of a restaurant that at one time served several food options, as evident by the numerous signs for smoothies, ice cream and coffees that are no longer available - as the owner will sternly tell you.
The Slice: I begin with the standard $1 cheese slice - and am surprisingly impressed. For a place that seems to be experiencing an identity crisis, these guys know their pies. It’s a solid portion, enough to fill a majority of the white paper plate and greasy enough to leave a few stains but not enough to run down an arm. The cheese to sauce ratio is strong - with the occasional pool of marinara here or there. The downfall of this slice is its pale complexion - like it spent all winter in a dark basement playing video games. Where is the golden brown crust or crispy bottom? Instead it’s a flabby ending to an almost great experience.
The Rating: With great flavor, good cheese to sauce ratio, a median level of grease but a rather flaccid crust - this slice walks away with a respectable B+ in my pizza grade book.
The Final Word: Everything about 99 Cent Fresh Pizza represents 85% - like they just can’t quite find that last 15. They set up a store front but can’t quite seem to get the old signs down; they offer toppings but only if you want “double cheese,” they have drinks but they aren’t in the cooler and they made a great pizza but just didn’t give it time to cook all the way. I imagine the man in the paper hat who took my order lives in an apartment full of partially finished paintings.
*Additional Toppings: In this section I explore other options at the dollar slice spot - without it factoring into my evaluation. Unfortunately, at 99 Cents Fresh Pizza the idea of additional toppings and options is as confusing as the ATM that is behind the counter for some reason. This is because even though they have a sign boasting other toppings they don’t actually exist at this place - your choices are cheese or “double cheese.” I cough up the extra $.50 for the “double cheese” which ends up looking exactly like the regular cheese. I paired it with a Coca-Cola and didn’t argue as the proprietor demanded I leave because of their strict no photo policy - which seemed suspiciously made up.
THE BEST PIZZA - $1 SLICE:
The Spot: En route to Central Park you will find this single counter store plopped between three identical thai restaurants and what may or may not be a front for a betting parlor. It’s a perfect stopping point on my way to the park to watch people pretend to exercise while they mostly take snapchats of trees.
The Setting: I walked past the place late in the evening, read “One Dollar Best Pizza” and thought to myself - bold. It takes some pretty big kahones to call yourself “best pizza” in this town and you have to respect the courage it takes to paint it in bright red letters. I believe it was the lyricist Waka Flaka who once said, “Real recognize real.” Inside I find a long hallway of a restaurant with enough standing room for one person and Italian seasoning, crushed red pepper and garlic salt containers tied to the counter top. There’s already a sense of distrust in the air - I embrace it.
The Slice: The general haughty attitude of this place makes the cheese slice somewhat tough to judge. I have definitely seen more cheese coverage from other operations but it holds its own on this piece - mostly because it evenly matches the sauce distribution. The sauce is spread well, a little thin, but again its tangy presence is there and matches the cheese. The bottom is very crispy, a little burnt at the end but only to the eye, not in taste. The crust is soft, fluffy and a solid size - but not golden brown or overly crisp. This pizza is flirting with the line.
The Rating: Despite its namesake, Best Pizza’s slice falls right in the meaty part of the grading curve. It’s not showing off, but not falling behind. It mostly works because of its balance - lacking equally in some areas and excelling mediocrely in others. This pizza is that guy at work you’re not friends with but you also don’t hate him - you’d say hello to this pizza in the elevator. In my pizza grade book it gets a C+/B-.
The Final Word: One Dollar Best Pizza needs an attitude adjustment. If you are going to talk the talk then you need to walk the walk. It’s one thing to claim you are the best, it’s another to tie down your toppings, but to then have not one…but two tip jars on the counter. Your pizza better blow my mind - it didn’t, so stop showing off Best Pizza.
*Additional Toppings: In this section I explore other options at the dollar slice spot - without it factoring into my evaluation. By the time I got to Best Pizza many of the specialty pies had been chipped away at, save one: buffalo chicken. Despite not a single slice of it having been sold, I decided it was probably a great idea to try it. Even when I ordered it the cashier paused for a moment as if offering me a chance to escape my terrible decision - but I refused to back down. The slice itself matched that of the cheese - falling in the middle of the pack but the buffalo chicken was unbearably hot. I like hot food, I like buffalo wings, but this was insane, it was as if the guy in the back thought: “If I make this hot enough, they won't ask questions about the chicken.”
He was right, while I desperately guzzled a soda for relief the concerns of where this one room pizza place found the budget to offer chicken never even crossed my mind. I ended up having to order two sodas - choosing a Coke Zero both times because clearly a person who has consumed 10 slices of pizza in a week is worried about their calorie count.