Showing posts with label Mall Pizza. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mall Pizza. Show all posts

Friday, June 24, 2011

Anna Maria's Pizza: "BUT IT IS IN A MALL!"

is in the food court of the mall at Pier 17 in the South Street Seaport. It is the weirdest food court I have ever been to, and for some reason made me think of Union Station in DC with it's fake internationalism. The other food stalls all had these oddly generic names like "Little Tokyo," "China Max," "Simply Seafood," and a place just called "Philly Cheesesteak" which allegedly featured "Live Cooking." I guess it is good to know that my food is not being prepared by androids? I don't know, the whole place made me feel uneasy, and the slice was $4.

This picture may not make it clear, but it was pretty big at least, considering the price. And it tasted more like real pizza than Pizza & Pasta Delight, and was decent if unremarkable, at least at first. But as we progressed along, the slice became less and less palatable. The ratio of cheese to everything else grew incrementally as we ate, until the very end of the slice became a sloppy, overly cheesy mess. And it had that grease taste that reminds you of bad butter. (Remind me to start a pop punk band called Bad Butter.) Chuck and me were really harshing on this slice, but Matt, who believed that the slice simply hadn't been cooked long enough, took up its defense willingly and fervently. "It's not necessarily the piece of pizza's fault that whoever is working didn't cook it well," he practically shouted at us. "They cooked a good piece of pizza badly!" I think there's definitely more wrong with this slice than the fact that it wasn't cooked enough, but Matt might be on to something.


Anna Maria's Pizza - $4.05
Pier 17 (Peck Slip & Dover, kinda)
New York, NY 10002

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Villa Pizza: "Serious nihilist food."

Last week I went pizza-eating with my friend Corey Eastwood. Corey is like, the most O.G. Book Thug I know. I remember when I was 18 I was walking through Washington Square Park and this tall, kinda skinny kid with a backwards Yankee cap and some mangled old black t-shirt was standing on the street with this guy who looked like a drawing of an old hippie selling used books. He was wearing a fanny pack at a jaunty angle. I thought he looked really cool, so the next day I bought a fanny pack, which never looked as cool on me.

I don't know when we became friends instead of just acquaintances. It happened kind of organically. Who cares?! No use arguing the finer points, or trying to determine exact dates for everything. Some relationships don't need an anniversary.

Nowadays, Corey is one quarter of , the best bookstore in Brooklyn and he no longer works for Groovy Gravy over in Washington Square Park. I go visit him at the store sometimes and we play chess and talk about cool obscure authors that you've never heard of. He's got this really acute sense of appreciation for rad grimy shit, and so I was really excited when he ended up coming to eat pizza in Port Authority with me.

It shouldn't be a surprise to anyone, but the pizzeria in Port Authority Bus Terminal, , is obviously part of a chain. But what kind of a Slice Harvester would I be if I didn't eat the pizza in Port Authority? This project is just as much about New York City as it is about pizza, and Port Authority is like an epicenter of weirdness and scumbaggery. As we were walking through, staring at all the weirdos, Corey said, "who even takes the bus anymore? I mean, Chinatown buses and Megabus are so cheap, and fucking flying is cheaper than Greyhound a lot of time these days." I couldn't really answer him. If any readers have any ideas, please don't hesitate to let me know.

The slice here was as bad as you would imagine. Corey said it tastes like the all-you-can-eat pizza in Austin, I thought it tasted like Elio's. There was no cheese on my first bite. It was too spongy and the flavors were all off. There was a Midwestern family sitting a few tables away from us, it seemed like a bunch of cousins and aunts and uncles, about a dozen people. At some point a woman came over with a tray of food and this overfed, doughy little boy screamed, "YOU DIDN'T GET ME PIZZA?!" in the shrill yelp of the spoiled child. It made me think of the kid in that Richard Pryor movie The Toy.


Villa Pizza - Listen, I forgot to write down the price.
263 West 42nd Street (at 8th)
New York, NY 10036

Monday, March 29, 2010

Primavera Pizza & Pasta: "No hay dios aqui."

Alas, dear readers, I've been stricken with a horrible case of consumption. I've been coughing into a handkerchief for two days now and I fear I may have accidentally expectorated some mucus onto my dicky. But I must sally forth, onwards eternally, towards Lord-Knows-Not-Where. For I have been stricken by a duty, no! a curse, from She Who Bakes The Pies, the Great Pizzaola herself, and I mustn't falter. But lo, what new obstacle lurks upon the horizon? What rough beast, it's hour come round at last, awaits this humble man.

. Possibly one of the most unexciting places I've ever been. Maybe it's just the mucus clogging up my brain, but I can't even remember what it looked like inside there. It was totally unexceptional. Nothing really sticks out for me at all as something that was gross, or cool, or ugly, or transcendently beautiful (well, besides me and Cory's friendship). This place is just straight up BOH-RING.

The pizza, though, the pizza is exceptionally bad. It has that crosshatched bottom from being cooked on one of those weird trays as opposed to right in the oven. There are a couple of places with decent pizza whose slices bear The Mark of Tray, but mostly this is a sign that the pie you are eating is total garbage. Cory told a long and somewhat charming story about going to flea markets with his dad, and something something, and bagels, and blah blah blah, and I was gonna recreate it for you guys here in this post, but then he got me sick and now I have a head full of snot, so I'm actually just gonna say that Cory from Stupid Party told a TON of really anti-semetic jokes while we ate this pizza and it made me really uncomfortable and then when I expressed my discomfort he called me a homophobic insult and spit at me even though none of that stuff is true. To add insult to injury their coffee tasted like a cup of hot water with a dissolved in it. . Fuck you.


Primavera Pizza & Pasta - $2.75
1005 2nd Avenue
New York, NY 10022

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Strokos Pizza Deli: "Woah... okay, sure."

This past Wednesday, I had the pleasure of eating pizza with , who is undertaking the task of ! He even drew a picture of me, which I don't think does much to spoil my anonymity that I haven't done already:

I think it's pretty cool, but I'm really vain, so go figure. My friend Justin Sullivan, who is an amazing musician, total dream babe, and excellent journalist put me in touch with Mr. Polan because he thought our projects were similarly unrealistically comprehensive. In a certain sense, I feel like Jason is possibly the only person in this town trying to do something more sisyphean than me, although I'm sure human birth and death rates are similar in frequency to pizzerias opening and closing.

The first place Jason and I ate at was , a place I distinctly remember skipping some months ago. But that was because we ran out of places on my list and I didn't know if it was OFFICIAL. Well, as it happens, Strokos lists itself in the phone book as a pizzeria, and that's really all it takes for me to eat a slice somewhere unless it disqualifies itself for any number of reasons once I step inside. Strokos was where there is like, the Burger Area and the Panini Area and the Pizza Area and then you pay at a single register when you're walking to the seating area. The big difference between Strokos and Columbus Gourmet Shithole or whatever that place I linked up there is called, was that CGS was full of bland suits on lunch break and Strokos was full of grimy weirdos sleeping at the tables. Which is to say, much better atmosphere.

The first thing I should say about this slice is that it wasn't good. The second thing I should say about this slice is that I really, Really, REALLY enjoyed eating it. You see the visual crescendo of no-caps to all-caps over there? That's kind of what my emotional experience with this slice was like. I went from somewhat ambivalent to TOTALLY INTO IT. Remember though, this slice sucks. It was like if someone took a can of crappy, sugary pureed tomatoes, poured a thing of garlic powder onto it, and then put it on top of a sponge and melted a string cheese over the whole thing. But for some reason, it was just so warm and satisfying I downright didn't care about any of that. I think the thing about this slice is that it's crappy in a really familiar and comforting way. Which is weird because it's not at all like any of the pizza I ate as a kid or anything. But I just think maybe every time I've left New York I've dumpstered pizza that was like this. Also, I was really hungry. Anyway, I don't endorse this slice, but I would be lying if I didn't acknowledge that I really enjoyed it for some strange reason.

Strokos Pizza Deli - $2.72 (I know, weird, right?!)
888 10th Avenue
New York, NY 10019

Sunday, September 6, 2009

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, , 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 .  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.
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