Portabello's Pizzeria & Sicilian Kitchen: "Ummm... no thanks, I'll pass... I've actually got plans and can't make it sorry man, really important stuff to do, you know like...

I had a good feeling about Portabello Pizzeria & Sicilian Kitchen, for some reason. It just looked like it would be good to me, but obviously I was just over-caffeinated and too easily fooled. The place had a lot of style and charm, though. It looked like it had been there for a while, and there was like, a really sloppy smattering of newspaper clippings taped to the walls in this haphazard fashion, with no real aesthetic sensibility or regard for any sense of order, and I just found it so endearing. But the pizza was super lame, so fucking whatever, they can have all the endorsements for Staten Island boxing gyms in the world and I still will never come back!

This slice looked fine and didn't smell bad or anything, but then it just wasn't good. The first bite had a big glob of sauce and the sauce was nasty. I was totally too sweet and tasted super chemical-y. Definitely not my thing. Luckily, the rest of the slice had little to no sauce on it! Unluckily, the cheese and crust sucked too. Or, the cheese was fine, I guess, but the crust was soggy and boring, and absent a decent sauce it really had nothing to offer me. Lew said, "if this was my only slice of pizza when I was visiting I'd be really bummed." And I think that's all you really need to know. He is not from here but even he knows that this pizza is lame.

Rating:


Portabello Pizzeria & Sicilian Kitchen - $2.75
83 Murray St (W. Broadway & Greenwich)
New York, NY 10007

Tribeca Pizza: "Starts strong, ends shitty."

So last week I went and ate pizza with my friend Lew Houston. I have known Lew, not so well, for a long time. When I was thinking about writing this introduction, I was going to say that we had our first real conversation when Lew's old band Party Garbage played an afternoon show with a band I was in with Joe Porter during their three hour layover flying from Austin to somewhere in Europe. It was one of the coolest things I've ever witnessed, and although Lew told me some of them were stressed out about missing the flight, they all seemed pretty casual when they were playing and drinking beers on the roof.

BUT, it turns out I was wrong about that, and I've actually "known" Lew in some capacity for like, fifteen years! As we were walking down Greenwich Street, Lew looked over at my Really Punk Vest and noticed my "Copy and Destroy" patch, which has a picture of a photocopy machine and that text. He said, "you know, Microcosm actually ripped that off from an old patch I used to make."
And my eyes lit up, because I had had that patch, and the Microcosm variant never quite measured up. "It was the same idea, right?" I asked him, "A copy machine and the text 'copy and destroy,' but yours was more crudely done, and it was on this kind of insubstantial red fabric."
And Lew was like, "Yeah, that's it."
"Dude, yes! I used to have that patch. I sewed it on the arm of this awkwardly big men's overcoat I used to wear as an alternative teen. A bunch of the security guards at my high school were like, ex-Panthers or at least purported to be, and we would talk about politics all the time and they would always tell me the red patch on the arm of my black overcoat made me look like a nazi. And I was always like, 'but you don't understand! This is about fanzines!' What was your zine called, anyway? I've been trying to remember the name of the zine of the guy who sent me that patch when I was fifteen for the years."

At this point Lew told me the name of the zine, which I will not reprint here, even though I just googled it and nothing really comes up. Although just for kicks I googled MY old zine next, and found a zine review of one of Lew's less old zine's where the reviewer says it is reminiscent of my old zine which was ripping off Lew's OLDER zine! Basically me and Lew comprise like, a US zine maker oroboros and we will either one day meld into a super man or else I will have to cut off his head for There Can Be Only One.

Our first stop was Tribeca Pizza, which I found promising because it had a pretty classic look to the insides and seemed like it had been there for a really long time. They have a nice outdoor seating area, which seems like a good place to chill and chain smoke newports, which there was a weird like, Tribeca Thug teenager doing when Lew and I arrived. He quickly scurried inside when I told him I was taking a picture of the front of the place for my website, but he was a grandiose specimen of Tribeca thuggery. I remember when I was a teenager there were these rumors about these like, roving gangs of rich kids from Tribeca and the Upper West Side and stuff who would just mob places in big flocks and beat people up because they were bored. The news blamed rap music, but as far as I can tell from historically accurate movies like Crybaby and The Outsiders, rich kids have been mobbing up and beating down folks for fun since at least the dinosaur times.

But the pizza! Though initially promising, this pizza was not very good. When I folded this slice in half, it crunched audibly in a way that portended great things! And my first bite was phenomenal. Good crunch, great ratios, nothing spectacular about the flavors, but nothing to complain about either. And then things started going wrong. As we progressed through the slice, the dough thickened, and what happened when it thickened was not good. It began to have a very crumbly texture. The kind of thing where it seems to come apart in big chunks but then the chunks shatter to dust, like when you're doing demo and you take a sledgehammer to drywall. I've never actually read all of Gravity's Rainbow, but I have read the first 80 pages like, twice, maybe. It takes place throughout Europe during WWII and there is this one scene that is in like, some bombed out city and these two military dudes lose a dog, right? As you can see I remember this book really well. Anyway, they chase the dog to this bombed out building and they are running around the bombed out building looking for the dog. There is something in Pynchon's description that is so incredibly vivid that it created a really crisp image in my minds eye when I read it, and that image has stuck with me. And when I took bites closer to the heel of this slice, all I could picture was that image. In short, this pizza is the texture of two army officers walking through a bombed out building looking for a dog. Also the crust was 'meh' and the dough needed salt.

I think if they got their crust game down pat, these dudes could have a bangin slice, though. Honestly, I know I took great pains to describe the drawbacks but this slice was more good than bad, and eating it was not an altogether unpleasant experience. Like I said, dough problems aside, this slice had decent cheese and sauce and good ratios for about half of it. If the outer edge were as thin as the inner triangle, the slice would've been the bomb.

Rating:


Tribeca Pizza -$2.75
378 Greenwich St (at N. Moore)
New York, NY10013

Palermo Pizza: "Someone show these guys how to use the oven!"

Palermo Pizza is a slight disappointment, but was still the best slice I ate when I walked around with Phil "Phil Chapman is a scumbag" Chapman and Jon the Reporter for the NY Press. The decor was unmemorable, as was the staff. At this point these places are starting to really blend together, and if they're not at least a little charming, and this place wasn't that. I remember the windows being big and bright, and I remember thinking about Bar Mitzvahs, but I think that's just because Jon the Reporter was talking about his Bar Mitzvah when we walked in. Like I said, this place didn't make much of an impression. They had alright coffee, though, and a really clean bathroom, possibly thanks to this sign.

This reminds me of this story Meredith told me about almost getting into a fight at the MOMA during a dance party "curated" by DJ Jazzy Jeff because she stood on the toilet with her head sticking out of her stall and announced, "LADIES! If you are going to hover, please lift the seat. Some of us sit on these things. Collectively our behavior in this bathroom is APPALLING" or something and then some lady was all "shut up" and Meredith was all "make me" or whatever. I don't remember. It's funnier when she tells it. Just ask her about it next time you see her. Or actually don't, that'll probably annoy her. But anyway, either way, nice sign, nice bathroom.

This slice was nearly perfect! It tasted good in every way and seemed to be made of quality ingredients. Like, good cheese, delicious understated sauce, and the dough tasted phenomenal. But the whole thing was pretty undercooked and that hints at a general lack of concern on the part of the proprietors of this place. Like, they put more effort into their bathroom sign than they did into cooking my pizza. And even despite that, it still gets a 6/8 rating! Like, imagine how good this slice would be if they cared about anything besides making clever bathroom puns? Seriously, it would be up in the running for one of the best slices I've had, maybe.

Rating:

This might could've been a 7-7.5 if it had been cooked! Use that oven, guys.

Palermo Pizza - $2.75
61 Murray St (at W Broadway)
New York, NY 10007

Star Pizza: "Would you like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar, be better off than you are? Or would you rather be a mule?"

Star Pizza sucks, there's not much more to it. Delizia Pizza or whatever the place the new plastic on the awning is obviously covering up probably sucked too. Most of the pizza sucks. So do most things! That's just the way the world is. Everything stinks, nothing rules. Blockhead Skateboards really summed up the general state of the world when they made that Nothing Is Cool skateboard. The world basically sucks, and you can really only hope to have more hopeful days, than others, but not today. Every so often enough things collide that it's just impossible not to be bummed about your friends' self destructive behavior, your city letting rapist cops walk, your country falling further and further into a total cultural void. Maybe I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but when I think about my experience at Star Pizza, it makes everything seem even more dour, dire and grim.

Jon the reporter described the texture of this cheese as forming "tiny globules" in his mouth, and he couldn't be more right on. This slice had nothing going right for it. The cheese wasn't undercooked, it just wasn't made of cheese. If it was like, soy cheese or daiya I'd STILL be disappointed in its texture. The sauce tasted like someone bought the cheapest tomato paste at the dollar store and just slopped in on the dough, and the dough tasted like Spread. You know that stuff in the big giant tub at the supermarket that isn't butter or margarine, it's just called Spread, and it's made of chemicals that like, make you grow extra limbs and have mutant kids or like, grow a GIANT BONER like in Class of Nuke 'Em High. Total sick stuff. There is a general lack of compassion in this pizza. This pizza does not care about you, it doesn't care about the people who make it, it doesn't care about itself. Maybe it's a sense of nihilism, a sense of giving up in the face of impending and awesome doom. Scientists know the sun is gonna implode in 3 billion years and take us all out, so who cares if we pollute, who cares if we let each other starve and fight and die, who cares if we serve shitty pizza. Fuck every single one of the quitters, that's what I say. We may all be on a sinking ship, but it's sinking slow and I'm not out of hope yet, despite this exhaustion I feel.

Rating:


Star Pizza - $2.75
26 Murray St (Broadway & Church)
New York, NY 10007

Little Italy Pizza: "I think this is the first place called Little Italy to serve a good slice!"

Earlier this week I went pizza eating with my "friend" Phil Chapman. I have known Phil for years, and even worked for him for a short time, and I can say, with total abject honesty, that he is the closest to a real life Newman I have ever met. (Coincidentally, he is also the only person I know with a Seinfeld tattoo.) Phil is not a Newman in terms of his aesthetic appearance. In that regard he looks like any other dour, overly tattooed, aging punk rocker holding up any shitty bar in Portland, OR. Phil is a Newman in demeanor, in that he truly and greatly rejoices in the suffering of others.

Of course I'm speaking in jest, to some extent. Phil is my friend and he is very dear to me. If he were abducted by aliens and I was never able to see him again, I'd think of him with only slight disdain and perhaps even a touch of fondness every time I watched Seinfeld, listened to NYHC rap projects, or saw an old person fall down crossing the street. Phil is a true New York legend, and I am simultaneously envious and sympathetic of those who haven't had their lives touched by The Yenta of Thompkins Avenue.

We were also joined by a newspaper reporter! I wasn't sure what to expect from him, but when he showed up to meet us he looked just like George Tabb and was wearing an Avail t-shirt, so there goes, he is one of us.

Our first stop was Little Italy Pizza on Park Pl. I was pretty terrified, because thus far I have never gotten a good slice from a place called Little Italy. This place had little to no ambiance beyond basic Bustling Pizza Parlor vibes, but there was nothing especially offensive or lame about it. It was just sort of regular. Like any number of other pizzerias I've been to in my life. Formica tables, slightly greasy walls, a bunch of dirks eating their stupid lunch.

This slice was really pretty awesome, though! It could've been crisper, but it was hot enough and had great ratios. Perhaps it was a little too greasy and that is what led to the floppiness, but the flavors were so damn good I didn't mind too much and it seems like you could still eat it on the go. The sauce on this slice had a great consistency and actual dairy flavor, the dough tasted great and yeasty like awesome bakery bread, and the sauce was understated but delicious. A little crisper and this slice would've been perfect, but it was pretty damn good.

Rating:


Little Italy Pizza - $2.75
11 Park Pl (Church & Broadway)
New York, NY 10007