Saturday, September 26, 2009
Como Pizza: "I am not as precise as I thought."
While James and I were out eating hella slices, my friend Jordan called. He is a super rad buddy who knows everything cool. Like, walking around Manhattan with him is way more intesting than walking around with anyone else because he's all, "that's where Malcolm X was living when he was assassinated," "there are only four freestanding houses in all of Manhattan and that's one of them. The other three are in these three places," "etc." Dude is totally like, an unending fountain of rad information.
Anyway, Jordan was like, "hey Colin, you never went to the pizzeria I go to the most in my neighborhood, Como Pizza." I didn't believe him because I totally remembered the name from a couple weeks prior. But sure enough, I leafed through my grease-stained Pizza Journal, and there was not an entry for Como. "By God," I thought, "I fucked up and I need to rectify this situation. So James and I got on the subway and headed up to 168th.
This brings up a brief digression which is as follows: I am but one man, and though I try to focus my energy on pizza all the time, I also work a couple jobs, write puppet shows, and do rape crisis work. Which is just to say, there's a lot on my plate at any given moment, and though Slice Harvester is a pretty top priority, I am bound to make a few mistakes. So if you are following the blog and notice that I've missed the best, most loathsome, or least exceptional pizzeria in your neighborhood, write me a comment or send me an email to let me know. I want to be comprehensive, but I'm not perfect. That said, on to Como Pizza.
Pretty unexceptional looking exterior, but the inside looks like all the best Jewish delicatessens.
I think it's that design on the walls, whatever the hell that shit is. It made me feel like I was at The Woodro Delicatessen in Rosedale, where I had my first ever Corned Beef and Pastrami on Rye with a Dr. Brown's Black Cherry Soda as a wee lad. The lady behind the counter looked just like my Grandma Sylvia--hair dyed black, overly made up, tacky costume jewelry--and I immediately felt so comfortable inthere..
The pizza, though, was just not phenomenal. It was decent. Perfect amount of grease, good ratios, the sauce was great. But the whole slice was majorly undercooked. I enjoyed the whole thing, straight through the crust, which tasted superb but wasn't crunchy enough. I would come back here for sure, and I will when coming to visit Jordan, but next time I'm here I'll ask for my slice well-done, and I'd suggest you do the same if you like your pizza crunchy.