Here's the thing about this blog:
I am going to eat a slice of pizza at every pizzeria in New York City. I'm going by neighborhood, starting in Manhattan, getting a plain slice at every place. I am fucking sick of the current trend in Pizza Journalism that's all about fucking artichoke guacamole tahini pizza on rice dough. That shit isn't pizza. Sorry. The only instances where "not pizza" actually is pizza are Zante's in San Francisco on like, 27th and Mission that makes Indian Pizza, and the Turkish Pizza places in Berlin. The rest of it, not pizza. Brie cheese with prosciutto bits and a horseradish mustard, cooked to perfection on flat dough in a hot oven? Sounds delicious, not pizza.
I digress. No one has done a proper survey of every single plain slice in New York City to scientifically determine which is the absolute best one. It's all Grimaldi's this and Difara's that. Those places are good, sure, but some days I think that one place Gino's, right across from the last stop on the 4 train in the Bronx is better than both of those places put together. And speaking of specific pizzerias, I will only be eating at mom and pop joints. No chains. That means the Pizza Hut in Kew Gardens, the Dominoes in Inwood, the Sbarros on W. 8th, the Papa John's in Crown Heights, etc., ad infinitum.
All in all, a slice can be damn near perfect, but if you aren't in the mood to be receptive, it can blow right by you. As such, I'll be doing my best to explain to you the exact, well, head-space, as our poor-lexiconed, West Coast brethren might say, that I was in at the time of each slice's eating.
Finally, you may be asking yourself, who is this guy and what does he know about pizza? Well, truth be told I am just some shmuck from New York with too much time on my hands.