Showing posts with label Total Bummer Slice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Total Bummer Slice. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Georgio's: "Plastic surgery disasters."

By the time we arrived at , 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 . 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.


Georgio's Pizzeria - $2.50
20 Beaver St (Broadway and Something Else)
New York, NY 10004

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Pronto Pizza: "I don't wanna waaaaste myyyyy tiiiiiime become another casualty of society."

. This place is the pits. This whole chain is the pits! Or, I don't know, maybe they're not related, maybe there is just a coincidental thing where all the owners of shitty pizzerias are inspired by the Great Pizzaola to name their stores Pronto Pizza as a benevolent act on her part, to warn the true believers of the world that they should stay away.

The slice they sell here is about the thickness of a piece of chewing gum and "tastes like a punishment," according to Ross, who had even more to say. "This pizza is making a mockery out of something I love. It's like Good Charlotte or Sum 41." When we finally got to the crust, which rose up from the meager base of the slice, Ross commented, "the inequity of thickness of the slice to the crust provides an apt metaphor for the distribution of wealth in America." Way to go, Ross! I love that shit.


Pronto Pizza - $3.00
114 Liberty St (Trinity & Greenwich)
New York, NY 10006

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

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?"

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 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.


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

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Cafe Amore's Restaurant: "When the smell hits your nose and you think the dead rose that's Amore"

is a small local chain with three restaurants that serves giant slice of shitty pizza. For a minute I was thinking it was the worst smelling pizzeria in the city, but I actually have a feeling another small local chain, Pastafina, might take that prize home. These places have even less character than the other small local chain, Abitino's, which is a total pretender and chock full of false authenticity, but they at least have some kind of interior design motif. Cafe Amore just has a shelf of decorative wine glasses.

"For display only"
Otherwise, there are pretty much bare walls and formica table tops. I don't know, I don't mind simplicity but this place is just dreary and so is the pizza.

This slice had nothing going for it. No personality. Aminah said it has "the lingering aftertaste of old people," which she admitted she "kind of liked." But Aminah likes disgusting things! Look at her art. She is intrigued by the sick side of life. And while I dabble in the disturbed, my intrigue with the occult doesn't extend to Hellishly Bad Pizza.

Notice the total lack of structural integrity on this slice. When folded the front flops forward like a huge flaccid dong, flopping around under it's weight at the whims of gravity. Looking at it from the front, it creates what I call The Grease Tunnel, and slightly resembles a quivering and trepidatious anus, poised to spray diarrhea everywhere after having received .

Did I spoil your appetite? Does thinking about Trent Reznor giving a slice of pizza an enema and then the pizza shooting greasy, liquid shit all over Marilyn Manson make you feel anything but hungry? Good. Because I don't want you to associate Cafe Amore with food. I want you to associate with gross things, vile things. This is Pavlovian training. Stay away from this place!


Cafe Amore Restaurant - $2.75
147 Chambers St (Hudson & West Broadway)
New York, NY 10007

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Lombardi's: "Eatin' Good in the Neighborhood"

Last week I ate pizza with my esteemed friend Martin Munroe, older brother to my esteemed friend Rudi Munroe, younger brother to my esteemed friend Tanya Munroe, and pretend older brother or cool or cousin or something to me. The night before we were set to meet up, he texted me and said, "I'm really excited about this. Wanna dress up like it's a date?" I agreed and the next day I dicked around in my apartment reading bell hooks until too late, took a shower and then didn't have enough time to get a proper date outfit together, so I changed clothes 4 times and finally settled on black jeans, black t shirt, black leather jacket, black cap and black sneakers. I turned out to be way under-dressed for the weather. Martin got into the same train car as me going into the city. He was wearing a suit, and suddenly I felt like I was under-dressed for the weather and the occasion. He presented me with a Sam Cooke tape, and said, "This tape is unlistenable. Right now my tape deck is hooked up to my DVD player and I have to play CDs through there and there is a buzz that I can't seem to get rid of." He then produced two CDs from his bag, "But you can just remake the tape for yourself."

We got off the train and went to , which was the first pizzeria in America and is now an Applebee's. Maybe it's a TGIFriday's. It could even be a Chili's for all I know. One thing is for sure: Lombardi's is not the Ground Round. What am I trying to say in all this rambling? This in a nutshell: Lombardi's is a bummer tourist trap hell hole and if you want a decent pizza and a real New York experience go to John's or something instead. However if you want a polished and scrubbed "New York Experience" that is actually as close to a New York Experience as having a drink at the Coyote Ugly in the New York, New York Hotel in Las Vegas. What a bummer. They were playing an early Frank Sinatra record over the stereo system and Martin looked at me, looked around and remarked, "Sinatra sounds kind of corny right now, huh?" Which sort of says it all.

And this pizza was a bummer. The dough was good, but that's it. The sauce was too red and tasted like cans, the cheese was like lumps of flavorless plasticy rubber. And it was $15.50! What a rip! Ugh, I am getting mad just thinking about this bullshit. Fuck. Anyway, we took a couple of bites and both agreed that we could not possibly finish this thing. Martin seemed troubled and offered to go outside and pretend he got a really frantic phonecall and fake that we had to leave urgently. That seemed over complicated to me, so I just told the waitress I was having a crisis without leaving the table, and asked her to box up the remaining pizza. Martin was like, "BUT WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO WITH IT THEN?!" and I was all, "I don't know, we could give it to someone who looks hungry or something." And then we paid our exorbitant bill and left, totally unsatisfied. Martin carried the bag of leftover pizza around with him all afternoon and I think I even managed to ditch him with it when I left the city. He probably still has it.

 UPDATE: Frequent contributor and general pizza knowitall Ron Wasserman left this informative little tidbit in the comments, but I felt like it should be present in the main review as well:

"Slice Harvester, you forgot to point out that this place has only a tangential relationship with the "first pizza place in America." The original Lombardi's closed down several decades ago. This one has only been open 10 or 15 years? Or maybe less.

The tangential relationship is that the owners perhaps are semi-distant relatives of the original Lombardi, or at least they say so. Who's really going to check! And of course, it is a given that they got absolutely no piazza making instruction from the late-great man."


Lombardi's - $15.50
32 Spring St (Mott and Mulberry)
New York, NY 10012
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