Lupita Pizzeria: "Possibly parve pizza?"

Here's the thing about Lupita Pizzeria, it's really cool looking.


The awning is maybe nothing exceptional, but once you're inside, there's a rickety handmade screen door and a weird counter and no tables and the whole place is like, the size of my bathroom. Too bad the pizza sucked.


Meredith was "slightly unsettled" by the way the crust met the pizza. After our first round of bites she exclaimed, "that's the crispiest pizza I ever had. it's like a cracker!" It wasn't crispy in a good way, either. It felt like when my orthodox friends parents used to make Matzo pizzas for a snack during Passover. Seriously shitty.

This slice was so garlicky, super dry, and it seems like the dough never rose at all. I want to make some kind of joke about it being cooked on the backs of people shlepping through the desert, but I guess I made that joke already. In short, there is nothing good to say about this slice.

However, if you're looking to move, the block that this pizzeria is on is beautiful and everybody that lived on it was super nice and started up conversations with us!

Lupita Pizzeria
26 Macombs Pl
New York, NY 10039

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Much like half the residents of Brooklyn who have blogs, I sometimes DJ at bars. As it happens, I'll be DJing at Alligator Greenpoint this coming Friday. I figured I might try and make it a Slice Harvester related event because this bar GIVES OUT FREE PIZZAS! Mind you, it's not the best pizza in the world, but of the number of Pizza Bars located in North Brooklyn, this one is by far the best. Also, what kind of pizza lover is gonna complain about a bar that gives you a free tiny pizza with every beer? That shit rules. The bartenders are super sweet, and I play really good music, too, so it'll be fun times.

King's Pizza of Harlem: "So close, and yet so far."

This week's pizza mission was especially exciting to me, because it involved my triumphant reunion with the inimitable Josh Ferguson, who I hadn't seen since last July when he went West out of Montreal and me and Good Kid Paulie went South. I knew Josh was a stand up guy a couple years ago when I first met him. The cops showed up to a house he was living at to arrest my bandmate, and everyone in the house bolted up the doors and hid under their beds. Fair enough. If I lived in a house that already had a tenuous relationship with local law enforcement, I wouldn't be too happy that some jerkoffs from Brooklyn had just attracted the pigs to the crib AGAIN, and I certainly wouldn't go out of my way to help those jerks out. But that's because I'm not Josh. That guy sat outside with me on the porch while we waited for homeboy to talk his way out of trouble, (which my bandmate did with a grace and charm that is unparalleled). Suffice to say, when the occasion to travel with Josh arose last summer, I jumped at it and it's a decision I don't regret. Since then, we've managed to just barely miss each other all over the country over and over again, so I sure as shit was super excited to be seeing that bastard after not having run into him for a little over a year.

My pal Meredith, front person of the most excellent Passive Aggressor, bartender at Second Chance Saloon, and one of my best friends, was my planned pizza partner for the day, and suggested, when she found out that Josh was in town, that we invite him along with us. Which was an excellent idea, because Josh was on his way back from working some weird kitchen job at a resort in Maine (q: was it like Dirty Dancing?! a: yeah, sorta, I guess...) with his friend Thunderbolt, who also worked the job, and the two of them had some fantastic insights and excellent appetites having been deprived of pizza for a few months.

After a track fire held us up in the subway, (which was obviously the work of hooligans, and which I assured our out of town pals was definitely no reflection on Our City's Fine Public Transit System, a curse on you if you besmirch it's name), we arrived in Harlem and practically stumbled out of the subway entrance to the first pizza place, King's Pizza of Harlem.

And this place, oh boy! We got there right after school let out, which would've been hell for me if I was in a bad mood, but I was reunited with an old pal, hanging with a best friend, making a new friend and eating pizza, so nothing could steal my sunshine, if you will. Instead, the packs of kids in uniforms shouting and horsing around just endeared the pizzeria to me. Plus, as soon as I walked in the guy behind the counter was like, "Get a good picture?" in a that ambiguous way that older New York guys talk that makes it impossible to distinguish whether it is friendly or threatening.

I ordered my slice, forked over my $2.25, and nearly plotzed. I don't know what the literary equivalent is of leaning over and telling you something mundane under my breath in a way that makes it seem like I'm letting you in on some big secret, but this fuckin slice seemed PERFECT.


Seriously, so good looking. Generally on pizza missions we share slices, in order to maximize the number of pizzerias we can hit in one day, but truth be told, I wanted this slice all to myself, so I told everyone, "listen, if we're all gonna get our own slice anywhere, this just might be the place." Josh got up and ordered slices for himself and Thunderbolt, but Meredith didn't buy it. "I'll see what you say when you take your first bite." So I dug in. And before I could even weigh in with my assessment, she was like, "Oh! The Crunch! I heard it!" and ran over to the counter to order her own.

The bummer thing is that the slice wasn't all as good as the crust, which was perfect, by the way. It took a little while to figure out what was wrong, because the slice was like, 75% totally right on, in general. The sauce was a little too sweet for my tastes, though no one else complained about that, but there was a funny aftertaste that no one could put their hands on for a while until I was like, "it tastes like really cheap cheese," and everyone concurred. If King's is skimping on the cheese, I can understand, these are tough economic times, and all, and the slice is still totally decent and above average overall. But if this cheese wasn't so crummy, King's would have a perfect slice.

King's Pizza of Harlem - $2.25
110 W 145th St
New York, NY 10039

New Millennium Pizza: "The ultimate mediocre slice"

New Millenium. I can only hope there is no kind of sorcery involved in the name of this place, because if the current new millenium is as dull as the slice here, mankind is in for a boring 991 years.


Here's the deal: this slice is too salty, way doughy, the cheese is a solid sheet, and overall, it's a mushy, floppy mess. However, the ingredients are decent quality and the crust is REALLY good. Like, I wish the crust was a piece of bread that I was dipping in the juice around a bowl of mussels. Instead of pizza crust. Because as bread it would rule, but as pizza crust it's just not firm enough. Point is: the flavors are nice but the texture blows chunks.

Ultimately, this slice is cooked and assembled poorly but the quality of ingredients is way above average, which goes a long way.

Eric the Red had two things to say:
1. "After a hard day of work I would love to wolf this thing down."
2. (And I'm paraphrasing here) "I want to throw this thing against a wall and watch the dough slide off the cheese."

General assessment: this slice COULD be good, given the right circumstances, or perhaps a more adept pizziola.

Pizza Double Feature: Tommy's Grill & Pizzeria / I Love NY Pizza

Tommy's Grill & Pizzeria - $2.25
3795 Broadway
New York, NY 10032

After the last couple of places, I was not expecting much when I saw this awning and storefront.

It looks like "pizzeria restaurant" was kind of an afterthought. Tommy was opening up his dream business one day in 1982, Tommy's Grill, because then Deborah 'Deedee' Mandolfino, who he'd had a crush on since the 7th Grade dance at Maria Teresa Middle School, would ditch that rat bastard Johnny Madden. Just because Johnny owns a bar she thinks he's respectable, but Johnny cheats behind Deedee's back and it breaks Tommy's heart every time he sees it happen. So Tommy's like, "Yeah, all right, I'll start a business, she'll see that I'm not just some shmuck. And a bar's no place for kids, so when she see's I got a Grill, a real place for everyone, we can start a family!"

And things are moving along pretty well, the business opens, it's slow, but that's to be expected for the first year, right? Everyone's supportive, but it just never picks up. And so Tommy is despondent. He's like, "I make the best damn burgers in the Heights! Where's all my customers at?" His friend Joey, a tall, mumbly motherfucker who seems like a goober but is actually quite smart, sees Tommy whining and he's like, "Listen, Tommy, just add pizza. People want pizza, they'll come for the pizza, they'll stay for the other stuff. Trust me. And I'll make you some fresh squeezed lemonaide. It's the best."

And Tommy listened. Eventually, he was the proprietor of a thriving local business. But he was never happy, because he never won Deedee's love. See, when Johnny caught wind of Tommy's plan, he used some of his immense amounts of money to build a kitchen on to his bar, creating the first ever Bar & Grill. He got out of all that soon and became a cop, though. They made a biopic about him called Bad Lieutenant. (Which, by the way, I can't believe these assholes in Hollywood have the gumption to remake with Nicholas Cage.) Tommy ended up killing himself, sadly, but this nice kid from the neighborhood Marky, who wasn't the brightest bulb but seemed to have an aptitude for it, took over running things. Marky went to jail in 1983 on false charges and his cousin Richie ran Tommy's until DNA evidence cleared Marky's name in 1987. When asked what people thought of the success of Tommy's Grill, Marky was quoted as saying, "Joey loved it, but Johnny was real mad."

But yeah, Tommy's Grill (and pizzeria). Me and Eric both walked in and were like, "this doesn't even look like a pizza place." But the lone plain pie in sight looked decent, so we ordered up some slices and sat down to try it out.

This picture doesn't really do justice to how decent this slice looked. The bright orange walls in the place and the crappy camera on my phone were working in collusion to sabotage Tommy's, they were probably paid off by Johnny Madden, is my suspicion. Here's what Eric said, which I thought was pretty right on, "it's not really a great slice, but compared to the last couple of places it's amazing." Overall, the slice was a little on the sweet side for me, and the cheese tasted a little burnt, but otherwise it was pretty spot on. Nice, thin but not too thin crust, perfect ratios of cheese:sauce:bread. Eric added salt to the last half of his slice and said that it made it much better.

But apparently, you shouldn't come to Tommy's for the pizza, you should come for the Fresh Squeezed Lemonaide, which is allegedly the best on Earth.

You can check out my sister's blog Juice Harvester, if you want to see the run down, but she drank a glass of lemonaide everywhere in the world that it gets made, which includes inside this volcanic crater in Borneo, and she determined that Tommy's Grill and Pizzeria in Washington Heights actually is the best.

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I Love NY Pizza - $2.25
900 Saint Nicholas Ave
New York, NY 10032

As we were walking here, I kept thinking to myself, "I know I love New York pizza, but will I love I Love New York Pizza?" When I got here, I was pretty confident, because the place looked incredible.

"Please be good please be good please be good!!" was running through my head like a mantra as I crossed the street. Eric and I walked in and ordered our slices and the first thing we noted was how shiny they were!

Grease! Of course! The key factor missing from all of the prior slices. What are the four elements of pizza? Bread, Sauce, Cheese and Grease. And the last handful of pizzerias had three-part slices, they were veritably greaseless.

So, this slice: the dough/crust was slightly on the undercooked side, but it was PERFECT otherwise. If you took the crust from Tommy's and added everything else from this place to it, it would be the ultimate best slice of pizza in the universe. Seriously, so good. The cheese was a perfect consistency where it had some give, and was stringy and sometimes soft, but not runny, there was a perfect amount of sauce, and the sauce was excellent, and everything was coated in a nice sheen of delicious grease.

You wanna know what's so awesome about putting spices on your slices, by the way? When you get a nice greasy slice like this, you can turn it over and drip it onto your plate after you've folded it, allowing a small puddle of grease and pepper and oregano to leak out. Then, when you get to the crust, tear it open, so the warm bread inside is exposed, and DIP THAT SHIT! Seriously, just shmear grease all over the crust's doughy interior. Do it from now on if you don't already.

Anyway, this place was fucking phenomenal, and the first of all the pizzerias I've been to thus far that had a bulletproof window around the counter, which reminds me again of what Sweet Tooth said back at Palace Pizza, "sometimes fear is a key ingredient in the perfect slice."

Pizza Double Feature: El Pique Pizza y Flaco's Pizza

El Pique Pizza
3887 Broadway
New York, NY 10032

I am lumping these two places together because they're across the street from each other, and they are both totally unexciting. Me and Eric went here after Famiglia, and knew, almost right away that it was gonna stink. Undercooked slice, with practically no sauce. The dough was so sweet the crust tasted like a pastry. Bad slice, nothing more to say, really.

The slice did come on one of those metal trays that I love, though. And not that this has any bearing either way, but the end of it kind of looks like when those weirdo, mall goth, body mod people get a lizard tongue.

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Flaco's Pizza

3876 Broadway

New York, NY 10032

After our totally lacklustre experience with El Pique we didn't have the highest expectations in the world for Flaco's. Which was right across the street.

I love that Eric reps that Sammy's Roumanian shirt so hard. I went there the first time when I was 13 for my grandparent's 50th Anniversary and I try to go at least once a year now that I'm an adult because that place is the SHIT. Anyway, we walked in and were immediately confronted by some of the most wild looking pizzas I've ever seen.

The pineapple/pineapple and ham slices are one thing. But look at that pile of minced broccoli on top of that green slice. And then the one with the whole can of mushrooms dumped on it?! Even the chicken slice looks weird. It reminded me of that Pizza-La commercial that's been floating around the internet for a while. Luckily were eating plain slices.

Looks like crap, tastes like crap. Eric got his and bit into before me and immediately muttered, "horrible," under his breath, just couldn't control himself. This slice was dry as a bone, and covered in cheap flavorless cheese, so it basically just tasted like mediocre bread. Somehow, despite that, it still managed to be too sweet. And the cheese was this weird solid mass that was thick and congealed. I feel like the cheese on this slice could be used by a scrappy and industrious mouse as the sail of the tiny boat he is constructing to make his way out of the city to track down his true love in a children's movie. Basically, this slice stinks.

Famiglia Pizza: "I am pretty sure this is actually a chain."

I woke up on Friday feeling kind of haggard.  Band practice was canceled, but Matty B came over anyway and we had a nice hangout while I waited to meet my friend Eric.  The reason I was feeling like crap was because I had spent the night before at Eric's bar, Second Chance Saloon, where I have probably spent an average of 4 nights a week since it opened a year and a half ago.  After closing out the bar, I was a total mess when I woke up on my day off with the intent to eat pizza all day.  But that's life, right?  Plus, massive hangovers make for better pizza eating.

Eric and I met up and got on the train for what seemed like an eternity getting up to Washington Heights.  We talked about the most ridiculous assortment of shit.  People abandoning their houses, being an exterminator, leaving your dead friends phone numbers in your phone because you can't bring yourself to delete them, etc.  Hangover talk.  We got out of the train at 168th Street and were standing in front of Famiglia Pizza.  I was like, "I think this is a chain..." but Eric was all, "Fuck it I'm hungry," and walked in.

 

 This place looks like it's in a mall.  Because it is a chain.  Look at the website.  They are in Anchorage, Alaska.  They are at airports.  But I guess maybe I can visit one location from each chain as a compromise.  I won't go to another Famiglia ever again in my life, but this one, whatever.  The slice:

 

 Duh, it sucked.  I don't even need to tell you that.  Probably the best of any chain, though.  I'll take this over Dominoes, Pizza Hut or Papa John's any day.  This pizza may be as mediocre and soulless as the current, semi-ironic Yacht Rock revival among communities of young urban honkies, but at least it's real pizza.

Multi-Pizza Feature: Tommy's Pizza / 177 Street Italian Cafe / Ernesto Pizza / That's Amore Part II

Tommy's Pizza - $2.00
4185 Broadway
New York, NY 10033

This place looked and smelled GREAT.  Seriously, the outside of this joint had so much goddamn character I was kind of pissed off at it.  Look at this tiling!

 

 
Sadly, it wasn't actually the best pizza.  But it was good.  The slice looked pretty impeccable, and it smelled great, too, so I was way pumped to eat it.

 

 

In retrospect, I think I might've just been enamored with their "best pizza" claim.  This slice had excellent sauce, but otherwise it really didn't have much going for it in my estimation.  The cheese was too salty, and the dough was way too puffy and undercooked.  It reminded me of a big fat soft turd.  Cristy and Matt were into the first half of the slice, but as we got to the second half, even they admitted the dough was getting too thick.  The crust, I think, should've been crunchier, although Matt and Cristy were both down.  In fact, Cristy said it "took her back to childhood," although she later acknowledged that it was probably this painting, and not the slice that did that.

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177 Street Italian Cafe - $2.00 / $2.50 with a can of soda
1341 Saint Nicholas Ave
New York, NY 10033-7236

This place was so weird.  Like, all around.  I almost didn't go in because it looked like it was all waiter-service, but then I noticed what looked like a counter one could order from and it seemed easy-going enough that I could order a slice and sit down and eat it.  But I ordered my slice and then sat at a table and they demanded that I let a waitress bring it to me.  I obliged, and when she arrived, she asked me if I wanted any spices, which I could see from where I was sitting.  I was like, "don't worry, I'll get them!"  And then she just got everything for me.  Strange times, I'll tell you.  The slice was doughy and floppy with too much cheese, so Cristy and Matty were obviously way into it.  I think it's kind of sweet how me and them have totally divergent opinions on what good pizza is, because it highlights the fact that pizza taste is so subjective, a fact you'd think I'd want to disguise if I were going to keep my readership.  But let's get real, I can't tell you what the best slice of pizza is.  Like, maybe I don't think your boyfriend or girlfriend is a babe, and maybe you don't think my boyfriend or girlfriend is a babe, but as long as I think my boyfriend or girlfriend or post-gender partner is a babe, who cares what you think!  You feeling me on this one?  But while hopefully everyone's a total babe to someone, we can say pretty definitively that some pizza totally blows chunks, so I am doing a service in separating the weed from the hash or whatever.   Because you gotta admit, even when I don't like a slice, I can admit that it's well-crafted, if not to my tastes.  So you do need me afterall.  But back to the slice at Roman pizza.

If you've been following this blog at all, you will immediately be able to tell that this is just not my style.  However, the ingredients weren't cheap, it was assembled well, and I love it when they give you your slice on these little round trays.  Overall, I had so much fun sitting in here.  Plus they were playing like, gorillas doing it or something on the tv and that was rad.


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Ernesto Pizza - $2.00 - GOOD SLICE!
1315 Saint Nicholas Ave
New York, NY 10033

Check out Matty B looking like a goon.  He might as well just move to New York, already.  When we got here Matt and I loafed around smoking for a while before going in.  The pizzamen were standing in the doorway staring us down with the worst stink eye, attempting to draw us in to their pizzeria with their tractor-beams of loathing and superiority.  You could see it all in their eyes.  We went in to check the slice out and Cristy came in and met us because she had been having an adventure at the discount store adjacent to Ernesto which apparently sold Dildos!

Whatta slice!  This slice had amazing ratios and pretty great flavor all around.  Hard crunch on the bottom with a soft interior, and enough cheese to evenly coat but not so much that I was afraid I might choke.  The middle of the slice was soft and gooey, kind of like the slice I had at West 190 Pizza a couple weeks ago, but to less of a ridiculous extreme.  And the ingredients in this slice were overall way superior to whatever they were slinging over at West 190.  The crust was phenomenal.  Half was puffy, half was thinner and it was covered in a perfectly even sheen of grease, adding some extra moisture and flavor.

If I had to eat my last slice of pizza tomorrow before the Lizard Overlords put us all into slavery, I probably wouldn't get it from here, but if someone asked me where to get a slice between the GW Bridge (which I heard they're renaming after the Godzilla when the New Administration comes in) and 168th Street, I'd tell them to head to Ernesto.


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That's Amore Pizza - $2.00
1246 Saint Nicholas Ave
New York, NY 10032

This place was  exactly the same as the other one.  Literally.  At first I was thinking that we'd been here already, but then I realized they had just managed to build two of the exact same pizzeria like, ten blocks apart (if even).

 

 

Look at Matty destroying that slice.  Once again he loved it, Cristy was into it, and I didn't really care for it.  Them's the breaks, I guess.