AMERICAN PIE

A Request for Neapolitan Pizza Makers

I’ve been eating pizza – in the American Northeast, between Philly and New York – for decades before the very welcome explosion of talented chefs who can replicate Neapolitan pizzas (Naples style, the birthplace of pizza). I am grateful that now, in probably every major American city, there is a place to get excellent Neapolitan pizza. However, I do have mixed feelings.

The brilliant Neapolitan pizza at Motorino

For years before the widespread introduction of authentic Neapolitan style pizza in America, plenty of pie makers mis-labeled their pies. Some said “New York style” and others claimed “Neapolitan” simply by the addition of a basil leaf (or less!), but that was generally a sign of a sloppy pizza with a soft floppy crust, neither thin nor thick, with too much cheese. Perhaps some definitions are in order. 

Commodity Pie

Most pizza sold in America is commodity-style. Of course, lots of it is pre-fab stuff from the big chains like Pizza Hut, Domino’s, and Papa John’s (my take on Papa John's HERE). But most mom-n-pop shops are selling commodity pizza, too. The chains have forced them to compete on price, so they use mass-sourced ingredients (like Sysco) and make pizzas that are forgettable. Typically soft crusts, undercooked, and overloaded with toppings to convey a sense of value. Most of it is not better than supermarket frozen pizza.

Floppy, sloppy, commodity pizza

There are plenty of distinct, often regional, styles of pizza, and you can learn about them at Slice – Serious Eats (LINK HERE).

Neapolitan Pie

Neapolitan pizzas are smaller, made to serve one. They are typically not sliced – you are served the whole disc. The crust is a thing of beauty – thin base, puffy edges, leopard spotting all over the cornicione, and good char underneath. A proper Neapolitan pizza cooks at 800 or 900 degrees, in as little as two or three minutes. The best-known Neapolitan pie is the Margherita, which uses sauce (not chunks or crushed tomatoes) from San Marzano tomatoes, fresh bufalo mozzarella (the milky white, wet cheese), and a handful of fresh basil leaves, often added post-bake.

Neapolitan pie from Massimo's, Trenton NJ

I love the Neapolitan pie. LOVE it. I’ve had brilliant ones in Boca Raton and Philly, Phoenix and DC, Trenton and Brooklyn. But even the best ones are typically marred by a wet and sloppy center. The amount of moisture in the cheese and sauce is too much for the short bake time and thin delicate crust. The wet cheese never browns and bubbles, and the center of the pie is soggy. “But Neapolitan is SUPPOSED to be wet in the center, troglodyte!”  Yeah, I know that. But wet bread is never a good thing. Never. Well, maybe saltines crumbled into Campbell’s tomato soup.

Trenton - Brooklyn - New Haven Pie

The regional style I know best is the Trenton tomato pie. It is a round pizza, with a thin crust cooked to a delicate crispness while maintaining some chewy interior. Different pie makers vary on the ratios of sauce to cheese; my favorites use canned crushed tomatoes and relatively smaller amounts of cheese. A Trenton pie is never wet, and there is little tip sag. There are char spots on the bottom and cornicione. All the ingredients are in harmony, and nothing is sliding off. You never need a knife and fork to eat it.

New Haven pie at Frank Pepe's

Now, folks in Brooklyn and Harlem and New Haven don’t call their pie “Trenton style” but those pizzas all have a lot in common. Patsy’s in East Harlem, Totonno’s (review HERE) in Coney Island, and Pepe’s in New Haven (review HERE) all make a pizza with a thin sturdy crust, and they use restraint with toppings.  When I made my list of “58 Pizzas Worth the Calories,” (link HERE) not one Neapolitan pie cracked the Top Ten. Yet who would argue with the excellence of Forcella, Motorino, Osteria, or Nomad?

How to Leverage the Skills of Neapolitan Pie Slingers

This is when I dream of what COULD be.

My first instinct would be to finish a Neapolitan pie under the broiler, but still, the water from the sauce and the cheese has already soaked the crust. You’d get some nice top browning (instead of floating blobs of wet cheese) but you’d still have a soggy crust. The pizzaiolo could reduce the amount of sauce and cheese in the center, at the risk of burning the pie without that moisture to protect it at 900 degrees. But really, I can’t even make a decent pie crust at home without making the kitchen look like it snowed; who am I to tell Neapolitan pizzaioli how to make their pies?

Hybrid carbonara pizza at La Porta (Media, PA)

INSTEAD, then, my wish is that they could take use pizza talents to crafting consummate Trenton/Brooklyn/New Haven style pies. Make a pie with a substantial (but thin) crust; find a way to keep all that flavor and leopard spotting from the Neapolitan pie, and incorporate that into a pizza that is crisp on the bottom, sturdy enough to support the toppings, and never wet in the center. 

Already, there are some of these hybrid pies out there. La Porta (reviewed HERE), right in my back yard in the Philly Main Line, is number six on my list. On my first visit there, I noted "The crust was an absolute delight with some characteristics of a Neapolitan crust, but firm and crisp like a Trenton/Brooklyn slice. That crust was magical. Everything that topped that crust was a premiere ingredient, applied judiciously, and all in harmony."

A slice from DeLorenzo's, my #1 Trenton pie

So I'm wishing that the talented folks who have perfected Neapolitan pies will turn that skill to the kind of pizza that Americans ate before the chains moved in. Nearly all of the best "traditional" pie makers were in business long before there was a Pizza Hut in every town. DiFara, DeLorenzo's, Denino's, Santarpio's, Frank Pepe, Patsy's.

American Pie - Let's Name it and Cherish It

I'd argue that, in America, the Trenton style pie (Brooklyn style, New Haven style, call it what you prefer) is more important, culturally, than our imitation of wet pies from Naples. Neapolitan is great pizza, but it's not the pizza of our fathers, mothers, grandmothers, and grandfathers (exception: my grandfather, born in Naples, used to tell stories of corner street vendors selling pizza before he came to America in 1907).

A return to the classics at Aanthony's Coal-Fired Pizza (Wayne, PA)

Classic American Pie is even more important because it's a shrinking supply. While the best ones have become institutions, most have been pushed out by the chains. There is one nice counter-trend -- Anthony's Coal-Fired (reviewed HERE) is a mini-chain with some awfully good pizza that has more in common with Patsy's and Totonno's than it does with the big chains.

What do you say, Neapolitan pizzaioli? Can you expand your menu to revive an American classic?

Review: Papa John's Original Crust Pizza

One year ago, Papa John's did a Super Bowl Coin Toss promotion; if you correctly predicted the coin toss, you won a free pizza from Papa John's for ordering online.  It was a clever scheme to get you to sign up on the Papa John's website.  It must have been successful, because they repeated the promotion in 2013.

Original crust pie from Papa John's

Because I prefer a thin crust pizza most of the time, I chose that option a year ago. It was wretched! See my complete review HERE. It was and remains the worst pizza I have eaten since I started this blog. 

A slice of the tragically bad thin crust pie, 2012

Well, duty called again. After last year's subpar pie, I surely wouldn't spend money on a Papa John's pizza. But since I called the toss correctly, I decided (for the sake of research, wink) to give the regular ("original") crust pizza a try.

Last year, I found the website so confusing that I had to telephone to get my order correct. The website is still awful. I'm thinking that Papa John's pizza eaters might consume even more of that stuff if they could figure out this badly designed website. In my mind, I figured "Papa John's: Terrible Website, Terrible Pizza."

Once again I ordered my pie from their store in Exton, PA. It's tucked into a dark stretch of a soulless strip of chain stores, next to a closed gas station. Finding this dreary location last year, even with GPS, was almost as difficult as navigating the Papa John's website.

Inside, I found (again) the staff to be very friendly. Kudos for that. My order was ready, and no one tried to upsell me any extras.  They handed me a free pie with a smile, and I drove home anticipating another scathing review.

It's cognitively convenient when you find the lone wolf pizza maker who searches out fine and rare ingredients, and his pies match his passion. It's also convenient to regard all chain restaurants as crap, and I frequently indulge in that type of thinking. 

That kind of broad brush, unfair as it might be, generally serves me well and keeps me out of Olive Gardens and Cheesecake Factories. (I don't share the same disdain for lowbrow chain food - Taco Bell and Five Guys are just fine, and not pretending to be anything other than tasty, fast, cheap). 

Pre- re-heat, with nice pepperoncino and pointless garlic dressing

With that as perspective, I opened up the green pizza box with the smiling image of Papa John. Inside, the smallish "large" 14-inch pizza had an attractive, dark, and uneven cornicione. It had a generous cover of thin-sliced pepperoni. Because it sat for about an hour, I planned to reheat in on a perforated pizza pan. I doctored it a little, adding some spicy capicola to fill the pepperoni gaps.

After 12 minutes at 350 degrees, I served the pie to EPBAC (eats pizza but avoids cheese) and myself. How was it?

It was good!  It was balanced, tasty, and had a very appealing freshness. Not remarkable, not gonna make you forget Denino's (review HERE) or Santarpio's (review HERE), but good enough that I feel a little bit badly about slamming Papa John so harshly a year ago and on every opportunity since then.

It was better than Pizza Hut or Domino's (as my memory serves me -- been a while since I had either). It was better than the good/bad monster slices at Costco (review HERE). It was better than DiGiorno! (Review HERE). DiGiorno is my baseline pie; if you, fresh pie man, cannot beat DiGiorno, then why are you selling pizza?

Surprising hole structure in crust

The thin-crust pizza I had a year ago was not only crackerlike, but without any flavor. This crust was like very good supermarket Italian bread. Not much character on the bottom, but crisp there and with remarkable hole structure in the tender, chewy interior. I can make a much better crust myself, but I haven't yet matched that lovely internal bubbling.

The cheese was commercial grade dry mozzarella (perhaps with some other cheese mixed in) but was well-suited to this pie. The pepperoni was paper thin, but it still was a savory addition and it cooked up to a salty, greasy, slightly spicy crispness.

Unremarkable underside

The sauce was the weakest part. Typical of low-end pies, it had a cloying sweetness that tells me it is made for youthful palates. Still, it didn't ruin the pie. Adding some salt was an effective way to cut the sweetness.

Overall, this was tasty, al dente, satisfying, and did not leave us with regret for spending calories on it. There was a good balance of crust, sauce, cheese, pepperoni. EPBAC agreed that it's better than Costco pizza. Kudos to you, Papa John!

The crust earns a 6.5, the cheese gets a 6, the sauce comes in at 3, the pepperoni a 5, and the balance a 6.  Overall, this mass-produced pizza comes in at 5.75 which puts it modestly above most mom-n-pop joints. Papa John, you are better than Sysco-sourced pies. Pie-eaters could do a lot worse when selecting inexpensive pizza.

Review: Totino’s Party Pizza (Frozen Pepperoni)

In October 2012, Adam Kuban wrote a terrific (and mildly controversial) article on Slice – Serious Eats suggesting that Totino’s is the best frozen pizza because it does not pretend to be gourmet pizza or even real pizza – it is simply a tasty snack. He notes:

Frozen Pizza revels in its crappiness. It amps up the flavor with an ingredients list of junk you probably don't want to look too closely at. It's "pizza" in the same way a Big Mac is a "hamburger" or Taco Bell is a "taco." If you suspend your disbelief, I believe you can thoroughly enjoy it for what it is.

 

I confess, that unlike many pizza lovers, I did not grow up eating Totino’s and in fact the one in this review may be my first. How was it? Crappy. Very crappy. So bad that I tossed it?  No way, I ate the whole thing. "La pizza male è meglio che non la pizza!"

Totino's, out of the oven. Click to enlarge!

It certainly was cheap -- I think I paid about $1.59 for this thing. It makes a filling meal for one. I was able to truly grasp its crappiness, though, because I heated it (more or less to package instructions, but giving it a 2 minute finish under the broiler) along with three wonderful slices leftover from La Porta, Media PA's destination pizza place.

The frozen disc looked to have a generous amount of cheese and "pork, chicken, beef" pepperoni on it. Still, I had some canned ham remnants in the fridge, which I diced and added to this pie. I made no other alterations.

Pre-bake, with diced ham added

A good pizza crust will have some crispness but also an inner hole structure yielding some bubbles and density variations that give it the al dente experience. I salute Totino's, because my pizza cooked up so that a slice cross-section looked pretty much like the image on the box, showing good bubble structure in the crust.

It is a bit of smoke and mirrors, though -- I think the crust is constructed in flaky layers, almost like those Pillsbury breakfast or dinner rolls that come in a tube. That is the first major shortfall of this pizza -- despite a decently crisp bottom, the crust had more in common with a Pillsbury roll than pizza dough.

The cheese was fine, and properly proportioned.  The pepperoni kind of disappeared, visually, into the sauce upon baking, which made me glad I had added the ham chunks.

The worst part of this pizza, though, was the sauce. It was sweet, gooey, and completely devoid of Italian herbs or any hint of spice. It really hit home that this stuff is made for kids. Or for drunks to eat at 2am. There is no way you would enjoy it if you didn't grow up with it.

Having said that, it is STILL better than Papa John's. I got a coupon code for a free PJ pizza based on winning the Super Bowl coin toss, and EPBAC (Eats Pizza But Avoids Cheese) won't let me use it. Good for her!

Ratings are kinda pointless, but the cheese gets a 5, the pepperoni a 4, the crust a 3, and the sauce a zero.  Overall, this comes in around 2.5. And we ate the whole thing. What other foods are so good even when rendered so poorly?  Viva la pizza!

Father Guido Sarducci: "Find the Pope in the Pizza"

With Pope Francis, interest in all things Papal are high. Now that American pizza is largely on par with Italian pizza, perhaps it is time to follow the sage counsel of Father Guido Sarducci:

Ayyyy howza bout some Neapolitan, yer holiness?

"And, going along with this Papal mania, I've kind of designed a contest about the Popes.  

"It's called "Find the Popes in the Pizza" ... All two hundred and fifty-four Popes, they're in here. ... And, what we're gonna do in about one minute, we're gonna put a close-up of this on your screen and, you at home, all you have to do is get some, like, wax paper, any kind of paper you can see through and paste it to your screen -- or tape it, whatever you want -- and all you gotta do is get a pencil and draw a circle around every place you see a picture of a Pope. And, while we're doing this--

"Well, I think what I'm gonna do for the prize, whoever wins -- you know, finds the most Popes -- they'll get to have a button that I designed myself. I noticed on the tour, the best selling button was this.  It says, "I Got a Peek at the Pope" ... And I designed a button that I think even more people can relate to.  It says, "I saw the Pope on TV" ... This is what you win. And now, I think, we're about ready. So while you're looking at the pizza for thirty seconds, I'm gonna play a cut from Pius XII's album. ... Here is Pius XII singing 'On the Sunny Side of the Street' ... And now find the Pope in the pizza. Good luck to you. All two hundred and fifty-four."

You may be aware that Don Novello, aka Father Guido Sarducci, hasn't reprised that role since 2010. And, at age 70, he's earned his retirement. Who, then will carry on the Papal Pizza linkage? We here at Pizza Quixote are proud sponsors of The Pizza Habit. 

This new team is proud to extend the tradition of identifying Popes in and around the righteous circles (or, in Sicily, rectangles). We spoke to two key members of team (based in Tuscany), Sisters Lucille and Bertrille. They shared this message:

"Popes and pizza have been bonded since the beginning, like bread and butter, like love and marriage, like Martin and Lewis, like reality TV and the decline of civilization. We want you to have Pope/Pizza 24/7. We will Facebook the pizza, we will tweet the Popes, we will put them on Instagram, and for those living in 2003, MySpace. For those living in 1993, we'll send an AOL instant message. 

"Some little known facts about Pope Francis -- he once owned a pizza joint in Newark NJ, making triangle-shaped pizzas. But it failed because no one could get proper boxes for it. He spent 8 years doing Karaoke for tips after that before he set his eye on, as he says, "the whole Pope-y schtick."  We're glad to take the baton from Father Guido Sarducci and we pledge to track Popes in Pizza and we hope to expand to Calzones and, Lord willing, garlic knots.  God bless."

Defining the Tomato Pie

I grew up in a small town in South Jersey.  My dad, a World War II veteran, had been introduced to pizza in Trenton – probably in the 1940s – and he called it “tomato pie.”  So beginning in my youth and continuing until quite recently, I regarded “pizza” and “tomato pie” as synonyms.  Crust, sauce, cheese.  Toppings, optional.

Tomato pie, DeLorenzo's of Trenton. Click any pic to enlarge!

But during the 1980s on a visit to Denver, I made a phone call to order bar pizza from the superb Bonnie Brae Tavern. I asked for a “large pie.”  After a long silence, the puzzled order-taker replied “we don’t have pies here, just pizza.”  I tried to clarify, not by saying “tomato pie” but “pizza pie” and that only helped a little. I learned that “pie” is not universal for pizza.

Pizza in Tuscany - has some overlap with Trenton tomato pie!

Some opening facts that we’ll explore:

• Pizza and tomato pie are not always synonyms
• Tomato pie has a very specific meaning in Trenton, with some possible overlap in New Haven
• Tomato pie has a very specific meaning in Philly’s western burbs, and it is different than the Trenton version
• Tomato pie has one more meaning, in the South and Midwest, and it’s not even pizza-like

The Southern Tomato Pie

If you Google "tomato pie" you will find Paula Deen's recipe for one. But the only thing it shares in common with Conshy and Trenton is that it contains dough, cheese, and tomatoes.  

Southern "tomato pie"

It is tomatoes, basil, mayonnaise, and cheese, baked in a pastry pie shell. I've never had it. Sound pretty good, but it surely is not pizza.

The Conshy Tomato Pie

I lived in or near Jersey for many years, and when I moved to West Chester, PA (45 minutes west of Philly) a few years ago, I discovered another type of tomato pie. A thoughtful co-worker stopped at the Conshy Bakery (short for Conshohocken Italian Bakery) and brought in their signature tomato pie. The Conshy tomato pie is rectangular, pan baked, with sauce, but with just a sprinkle of cheese post-bake.

Conshy-style tomato pie

The easiest way to describe it would be a Sicilian pizza without the cheese. I love it, but I usually feel that I want to add cheese. It took a trip to Italy, eating some related-but-not-identical rectangle slices of Roman pizza, for me to gain an appreciation for cheeseless pie. Bottom line, if the crust and sauce are SO good, the cheese can be a distraction.

An appealing square from Tony Roni's

The “Famous Conshy Bakery Tomato Pie” is “An 18"x 25" sheet of dough with a homemade tomato sauce spread generously on top and baked. Cheese, garlic powder, and oil are added after baking." It's typically eaten at room temperature, but I like to heat it up to get a crisp bottom.

Make sure to click and enlarge this brilliant slice from L&B Spumoni Gardens

Other Conshy-style tomato pies include the Philly region mini-chain Tony Roni's (reviewed HERE), Corropolese in Norristown (reviewed HERE), Santucci's, Aversa Bakery, and Cacia's Bakery (reviewed HERE), the square slice at L&B Spumoni Gardens (reviewed HERE) even though they don't call it a tomato pie, and even the square slices from New York's Brick Oven Pizza 33 (reviewed HERE). 

Squares from Manhattan's Brick Oven Pizza 33

The prettiest tomato pie ever, in Rome

These are all good or great, but their Roman cousin is tops for a rectangular pizza product without the cheese (review of Forno Marco Roscioli HERE).

The Trenton Tomato Pie

The Trenton version of tomato pie has cheese, and most folks would view the round pie as a pizza. But it does have important characteristics that make it different from Neapolitan pies, the New York slice, and other legendary pizzas like Totonno's of Coney Island. I've watched it made at DeLorenzo's (Hudson St., Trenton, before they moved to Robbinsville NJ) and the assembly is reversed from pizza -- the cheese (conventional shredded aged mozzarella) goes on before the "sauce" which is mostly crushed tomato.

More great pie from DeLorenzo's

The "upside-down" pizza. It's not tomato pie

Other pizzamakers in the Philly area make "upside down" pizza where the sauce is on top, but those have a blanket of conventional sauce that completely obscures the cheese and prevents browning. We tried one at Marzano's in Exton, PA, reviewed HERE; not bad, but not tomato pie. And despite earning kudos from Philadelphia Magazine for its great sauce, Marzano's is now closed.

The best-made tomato pies deliver up a mouthful of tomato in one bite, and some properly browned cheese in another.

Lining up for tomato pie before DeLorenzo's closed the doors for good

DeLorenzo's Hudson Street (closed in January 2012, but lives on in suburban Yardley and Robbinsville; reviewed HERE) is my favorite "pizza" of all time. Tomato Pie purists would cringe at the pizza term for a DeLorenzo's tomato pie. There is a Facebook group devoted to Trenton tomato pie, and the members feel pretty strongly that tomato pie and pizza are very different.

Pepperoni tomato pie from Papa's in Trenton

Very close in quality to DeLorenzo's is the superb Papa's Tomato Pies (reviewed HERE). Note: Papa’s has also relocated to Robbinsville and is as good as ever. Papa's should be just as much a nationally revered institution as Lombardi's, Grimaldi's, and DiFara. The "other DeLorenzo's" (the owners are related, but not affiliated and their product is pizza, not tomato pie) also left Trenton for suburban Hamilton.

What makes Trenton tomato pie so special? A Trenton pie features a thin and sturdy crust. Crackly outside, but not cracker-like. There is some chew and hole structure. It is never wet! You would never discard the cornicione (pizza bones) on a tomato pie. A Trenton pie is defined by the base, not the toppings. There is no "buffalo chicken tomato pie."

On a Trenton pie, the cheese is a role player (unlike the soupy puddles of buffalo mozz that float on too many Neapolitan efforts). Crust first, tomato chunks (not sauce), then cheese, in that order of importance. It is the perfect canvas on which to drop some chunks of genuine Italian sausage or slices of pepperoni. Other toppings can work -- garlic, onion, mushrooms, anchovies -- but it surely would be a crime against nature to order a tomato pie "with the works."

Close-up of the art of the crust, at Frank Pepe's in New Haven

A related delight is the New Haven tomato pie, also called "apizza." I've visited Frank Pepe's (reviewed HERE) which calls itself Neapolitan, but it clearly is not. Neapolitan pie has a wonderful crust, but a soft puffy crust. Frank's is delightfully crispy, yet with stellar hole structure and internal al dente chewiness. You could sell it in Trenton, call it tomato pie, and get no argument. For me, tomato pie is always better than Neapolitan.

"Apizza" from Modern Apizza, New Haven

Apizza in Florida at Nick's

I also loved New Haven's Sally's Apizza (reviewed HERE), the second-most famous pie in New Haven, and it is magnificent, Modern Apizza (reviewed HERE) has a crust that is softer than Pepe's and I would not call it tomato pie. It was terrific, but it was eclipsed by Pepe's, Sally's, and Nick's New Haven Style Pizzeria in Boca Raton, FL (reviewed HERE).

Conclusions

More so than any other American pizza I've tried, a Trenton tomato pie is balanced, nuanced. Pizzaioli ruin otherwise fine pizzas by the notion that more is better.  "Cheese is good; more cheese!  I love their sauce, more please!"  But that tactic backfires with pizza. When the cheese or sauce is applied in excess, the crust suffers, the yin strains its yang, the feng cannot shui, the tip droops, and mother nature cries. You don't need to fold your tomato pie slice to keep the toppings on as you eat it. In fact, if you can fold it, something is wrong.

THIS never happens with a tomato pie. Yuck.

The Trenton tomato pie is, for me, the pinnacle in the pizza family. Each bite delivers a hearty crunch, then a satisfying chew, bright, tangy, concentrated tomato flavor, with the adhesion of nicely browned cheese. No cheese is sliding off in gloopy clumps, you can hold a slice in one hand, and all the flavors and textures are in harmony.

I'm glad for the current wild popularity of Neapolitan pizza, because it celebrates great ingredients and technique. But if the best pie you've had is Neapolitan, you need to make a trip to Trenton or Robbinsville. You can have destination pizza without the wet center.