By the time we arrived at Georgio's, I think Jen Shag and I had run out of expectations, though we hadn't run out of hope. Upon walking into the establishment, we were confronted with the ambiance of a Cafe Amore and the smell of a Pastafina. In short, what little hope we had left was squandered. I'm not exactly sure how to best tie it together, but everything about this place seemed to be summed up in the 4000" flatscreen on the wall playing some "Deadly Bar Fight" reality courtroom show and the gaggle of lonesome fools watching it, slack-jawed and dead-eyed.
And if ever a piece of pizza could be described as "slack-jawed and dead-eyed," this is the slice. It vaguely approximates pizza in the way that weird overly tanned, overly plastic surgeried celebrities approximate humans, but a true New York slice it is not. The sauce tasted like the meatball sandwich in my Middle School cafeteria. Jen remarked that the cheese tasted like "they cooked the wrapper from the mozzarella onto the slice." There were distinct notes of burnt plastic and impending cancer. The crust had a shiny gloss to it, like the varnish on a hardwood floor or the paint job on a car. Everything about this slice was artificial. To be frank, it looked like Carrot Top's face. In summation, Jen said, "they should be paying us $2.50 to eat this slice." I think I'd probably like to be paid more than that, but I'll take what I can get in these trying economic times.
Rating:
Georgio's Pizzeria - $2.50
20 Beaver St (Broadway and Something Else)
New York, NY 10004