Pizza Place Corporation: "Might be the best slice of the day."

By the time Jordan, Gabby and I made it to Pizza Place Corporation's corporate HQ, Gabby and I were feeling pretty loopy and goofy, so I was inordinately pleased with the font choice on the "Pizza Place" sign, which was really nothing special.


We went in and there were three teenage girls sitting at a booth listening to the raunchiest rap jams in history with no compunction and no concern for the old ladies in the store, who also didn't seem to care about 50 Cent's entreaties that they lick his lollipop. The first thing I noticed about the place was a really rude sign on the bathroom door. First there was a "rest room" sign, beneath that an "employees only" sign, and finally, below that a handwritten sign that read "what, can't you read?" Basically what I'm saying is that this place totally ruled.

I ordered my slice, forked over my $2.00, and was pretty happy with what I saw.


This slice looked good and smelled great. It was a little thinner crusted than an average New York slice, but I imagine that helped facilitate the totally rad and delicious, crunchy texture. There was kind of an abundance of cheese and sauce, in good ratio with each other, but I would've thought they would overwhelm the bread. However, they were both good quality, and with the crust's super firm crunchiness (without being brittle), the sloppy gooey sauce and cheese on top made for a really fun eating experience. We each got our own slice at this place and we totally devoured them like ravenous wolves or something. The actual heel of the slice was not too exceptional, though, which goes to show that the sauce and cheese might've been compensating for a bland dough. Overall, though, this slice was totally solid and I would for sure come back here again.

Pizza Place Corporation
1325 5th Ave
New York, NY 10029

Koronet Pizza: "You probably already know everything I'm about to write here."

After Giovanni's, Gabby and I finally ditched those squares from the Daily News (jk u guyz r kewl!! lol) and struck out on our own, like a couple of rascally vagabonds. I guess the simile is pretty unnecessary because at various points on and off in both of our lives, both Gabby and me have been rascally vagabonds. And you know what Hegel said in his essay about Kerouac, Of Lordship and Vagabondage, "Once a bum always a bum (no hobo)."

I digress, after freeing myself from the demanding shackles of low-pressure, high publicity media attention, Gabby and I strolled over to Koronet.


I'm gonna keep this entry brief, because there has been plenty of writing about Koronet done. They are notable because their slices are enormous, like, the size of two normal slices, but cost less than the price of two normal slices. The current price seems to be holding at $3.50.


This slice is all about big appetites. The size forces it to go into a Dough-Thickness Bracket higher than I generally prefer, for the sake of maintaining structural integrity. Aside from that, the dough is good quality, the cheese is good, ample but not overabundant, and the sauce, although on the sweetish side, is not so bad. Overall the slice is on the above-average side of plain old "good," but the amount of food you get for your money makes it kind of a spectacular bargain. However, I can't help but imagine that if this were a regular slice, at a regular price, it wouldn't be such a great deal, but it might be close to perfect, assuming the dough thinned out equally to the decrease in overall weight for it to hold.

In a world without money, where I can have whatever I want whenever I want (so, more accurately, in a world with money where I am extravagantly wealthy), I would never eat here, because I would fly my rocketbike to DiFara's every time I wanted a slice. But since I am constrained by my limited finances, Koronet is always a pleasure to stop at when I find myself in Morningside Heights because unlike most shticky pizza that prides itself on size, Koronet is actually good quality.

Koronet Pizza
2848 Broadway
New York, NY 10025

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I was on the radio this morning on WOR 710 AM on the John Gambling Show. It is a short interview and I kind of sound like a dick, but it was first thing in the morning for me, so cut me some slack, huh?
WOR Interview (John Gambling Show) by sliceharvester

Giovanni's Pizza Restaurant: "If you read the Daily News, you already know I like this place."

After Che Bella, Gabby and I strolled down to the next pizzeria on my list, only to find out that it wasn't even there, and the number listed for it in the phone book was an out of service cell phone. Weird sketchy times, indeed! So we hustled over to Giovanni's Pizza Restaurant and were immediately overtaken by the smell of delicious pizza as soon as we walked in.


The place smelled phenomenal, and the guy behind the counter looked like the perfect 'I don't give a fuck' pizzadude. Greasy apron, shirt halfway untucked, backward hat just barely holding the hair out of his face. I used the word shlubby to describe him in the Daily News, and some people took umbrage with that. (Most notably Daily News Commenter Nomorracism, who remarked, " Isn't that a jewish saying? What does it mean though? It sounds disrespectful, but that's not suprising since they think they are better than everyone else who is not jewish." Thank you Nomorracism, for your insightful anti-semitism.) I just want to take a minute to clear the air and mention that I did not use the word "shlubby" in an even remotely pejorative sense. As a lifelong shlub myself, I feel a certain kinship with anyone else who can't seem to keep their shirt tucked in. And this particular guy's brand of slovenliness was almost post-coital looking, with Making of the Pizza being akin to the Physical Act of Love. And such good love (or pizza) had just been made, that homeboy could not bother to fix his appearance afterwards, because in light of that transcendent experience, who cares about societal norms regarding tucked shirts or restrained locks?


The pizza: guy just handed me a slice, perfect temperature, right off a tray behind the counter. When I come back here, I'm gonna ask to have my slice reheated a bit because I prefer that extra crunch, but holy zombie Moses, this pizza was pretty damn good even lacking in such an elementary and important textural factor. The cheese was top quality, the dough was made perfectly, thrown perfectly, given ample time to rise. But the sauce was really what made this slice. It was sweet in this really natural way, like fresh, homegrown tomatoes right off the vine. It was definitely spiced, but all it really tasted like was delicious fresh tomatoes, and that taste added an element to this otherwise pretty good slice that put it right over the edge into the realm of greatness. As Gabby was eating his he said, "eating this slice is actually making me more hungry!" And not in that way where you are bummed out that you're eating something so you get hungry as an excuse to eat a new thing afterwards, but in a way where you are so pumped on something's intricate and totally awesome flavors that you get hungrier just thinking about it as you eat it.

S & D Giovannis
1011 Columbus Ave
New York, NY 10025

Che Bella Pizza: "This place is what it would be like if Starbucks opened a pizzeria."

I was really excited about eating pizza this week because I was heading out for slices with my good pal Gabby who was in town for a day to have a book release for his awesome new comic Monsters at Desert Island. Either way, not only was I excited about my rad buddy having a new book out, but I was pretty thrilled at the prospect of hanging out with him. Gabby has this weird way of combining being a totally bitter, acerbic curmudgeon with still believing in shit in a totally rad and excited way. It's a good balance to strike, because people who are too starry-eyed about changing the world tend to be so delighted with themselves it is infuriating, and people who are lifestyle-grumps are oftentimes such a pain in the ass to hang around, but the combination of the two balance each other out perfectly. Blah blah, enough praising the wonderful people in my life, onto trashing crappy pizza.


Che Bella. It's crazy because the human personification of this pizzeria was standing outside, like a shapeshifting wizard who could somehow assume two forms at once. Inside was exactly what you would expect from the crappy outside. Bright orange walls, the table and chair setup made me think I was in a Subway, and the people who were working on the weird assembly line behind the counter seemed miserable. The slices on display looked like crap to the point that I almost called it off because this obviously wasn't pizza. When ordering, I asked the guy if they even had regular slices. The guy told me that they sure do, I paid my $2.50 and he handed me a regular looking slice.


It's strange that they keep the not horrible looking slices hidden and the whack bullshit on display, but whatever, it's not my business. The slice itself: the cheese was good, the sauce was superb, not too sweet, but maybe tasted a little too much like a can. The bread, though, was so crappy it rendered the slice majorly awful. Maybe cooking the slice adequately would help, but I feel like it's an issue of the dough recipe. Here's what happened, the top of the dough, where it should be soft and somewhat fluffy, was this like, awful dense paste, and it turned the entirety of every bite into a totally dense, awful paste. The worst feeling ever in my mouth. Pizza loves, save this place for college students who don't care how good their pizza is.

Che Bella
1215 Amsterdam Ave
New York, NY 10027

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.

"Mi Gente, Slice Harvester Triple Play Is IN THE HOUSE"

Basement Pizza & Restaurant - $2.00
1343 Amsterdam Ave
New York, NY 10027

NOTE: THIS PLACE CLOSED DOWN. RIP BEAUTIFUL FRIEND.


Basement Pizza looks like a Dick Tracy comic on the outside and feels like a David Lynch film on the inside.


While sitting in there I witnessed a toddler, sucking on a fountain soda, staring vacantly with those creepy devil-eyes children get when they're oversugared but worn out, stuffing wadded up pieces of paper up his nose and in his mouth and hair. I was only distracted from the demon-trance the kid was putting me into by a guy who came in and tried to sell me a watch.

The guys behind the counter were attentive but distrustful, the kind of demeanor you want in a good pizzaman, or diner proprietor. Because that's the thing about Basement Pizza, it's like, half amazing greasy spoon and half crappy pizzeria. And with that, on to the slice:


The bread was great. The dough was prepared perfectly and tasted delicious. The sauce was a horrid mess, though. Tasted way more like marinara than pizza sauce, if that makes sense. It was super salty and garlicky in a really unpleasant way, which made it way overpowering, so I couldn't even taste the cheese. The crust was good but nothing to write home about.

I want to spend all day hanging out in this place because it's a weird vortex of bizarre shit. However, next time I come, and there will be a next time, I'm gonna get a burger or some eggs or something.

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Presidential Pizza - $2.25
357 W 125th St
New York, NY 10027


By far the worst pizza I've had yet. It sucks to be inside this place and the food sucks even more.


This slice was burnt and dry. It felt like there was no sauce because the sauce had all evaporated during the slice's forty days and forty nights in the pizza oven, but it had left behind an overwhelming amount of crappy sauce flavor. The crust might've been okay if it hadn't been cooked so crappy and the cheese tasted like chemicals. Don't bother with this place.

Funnily enough, as James and I were eating our slice and discussing how disgusting it was, we noticed a sign below the registerthat claimed that "Presidential Pizza was voted the best slice in America on Yahoo." Okay, whatever. But now, scroll up and click on the link I posted up there for the place and look at the reviews.

I have never seen a larger quantity of more poorly written fake reviews in my life! These are an incredible body of work and whoever wrote them should get whatever the equivalent of a Pullitzer is for people who write fake reviews to boost their own business.

"Just thinking about it makes my mouth watered."
"Presidential Pizza has the best pizza in the Universe!"
"NYC has the best pizza in the planet. Presidential Pizza is the best in NYC."

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Nasa Pizzeria - $2.25
471 Malcolm X Blvd
New York, NY 10037

This place had a really good atmosphere. No tables and just a long counter. They had like, 30 different flavors of fruit punch and the guys behind the counter were really nice. The pizza was weird, though.

Looks decent, adequately greasy and the bread was okay if a little on the bland side and slightly undercooked. I couldn't taste the sauce at all because they cheese tasted WEIRD. Like, it was extra pungent and sharp, didn't taste like mozzarella, although it looked like mozzarella. This is obviously a Halal joint and I am wondering if, like Kosher pizza, Halal pizza necessarily has different ingredients and will never be as good. Thinking back on this slice, I recall it fondly, but I definitely wrote "I DO NOT like this," in my notes from the other day.

Slicebun / Pizza Burg / Family Affair: "Hell is for children."

In between Tom's and Slicebun, we walked by some place called like, Festa Merda or something that was waiter service-only brick oven yuppie town and I made the executive decision not to bother. I'm pretty sure I even said "Heave-ho!" in my best Tom Scharpling voice. I got no time for yuppie pizza, folks. Although if anyone wants to inform me that the fancy pants, Italian name "brick oven restaurant" ensconced in those couple blocks of Amsterdam that look like Scarsdale is actually a decent slice joint, I will rescind these words and go there and try it out on Thursday. Anyway, Slicebun.


What a weird place. We got there right as a mob of children came in. I don't even mean teenagers, or even fifth graders. I'm talking like, five-year-olds, pretty much the oldest age I will tolerate larval humans until they're like, twenty, but that's really an irrelevant aside. These kids were adorable and were running rampant all over the place. It seems like a popular spot for folks to bring their pups after school, and I'll explain why when I explain the slice, which was huge and cost $2.00.


This pizza had mediocre crust and not nearly enough grease. The cheese tasted fine but was a weird soupy texture, probably because the sauce was too watery and too sweet. The dough wasn't cooked all the way, so the whole thing turned into this nasty-feeling paste in my mouth every time I took a bite. Here is what James said about it:
"It's not bad."
"This tastes like pizza in California."
And as we got towards the crust, "I can't believe this, but it's actually getting wetter."

Despite the crummy review, this pizza made me really happy because it reminded me of going to Rye Playland or like, the ice skating rink when I was a kid. I feel like I ate this exact pizza on a boardwalk as a child or at like, a carnival or something. Here's the thing, man: this pizza is perfect for children because it has no texture and barely any flavor but is slightly sweet. As my friend Johnny "Johnny Guitar" No Pants might say, "this is kid stuff."

Pizza Burg
1302 Amsterdam Ave
New York, NY 10027