The crowd outside here is not, in fact, waiting to sit in an airconditionless, musicless pizza purgatory, they are in line for the Pay-O-Matic check cashing place, whose logo looks like someone frowning and shedding a single tear, a fact that has always bothered me.
I pushed my way through the folks waiting in line to cash their checks and into the pizzeria. The woman behind the counter had been looking forlornly out the window at all the non-customers and really perked up when I came in. "A slice to stay? Anything else?!" When I told her no thanks, she seemed a little disapointed but that's life, huh? I paid my $2.25, spiced up, and headed to a table with a slice I was not looking forward to eating.
This picture doesn't quite do the slice the injustice that the lighting in the pizza place did, but the slice I held in my hands looked washed out and undercooked. However, when I folded it in half, I heard, thanks to the horrible silence permeating the place, that perfect crunch of a perfect slice cracking down the middle. And when I bit down, that first bite was perfect. I pulled the slice away from my mouth in total shock. It didn't look amazing, but this slice was incredible. Upon further bites I decided that the dough could've used a little more salt and the sauce could've been a touch less sweet, but that was really just me being nitpicky.
As I got further towards the crust, where the dough thickens, the slice got less good. I couldn't believe it. I was right initially, the slice was undercooked. But it was undercooked at such a goddamn high temperature that it cooked through perfectly up until the very edges. The crust was a haggard mess that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy, but man, three quarters of that slice was heaven.
Oh, and as for the slashes in the name the sign says Telwin Pizzeria and Pastas Corp. and the menus read D'Junior's Pizzeria. What do you make of that?
Telwin Pizzeria and Pastas Corp.
522 W 207th St
New York, NY 10034-2646
New York, NY 10034-2646
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