An open letter to the pizzerios of NYC

Dearest Dough-Tossers, Cheese Graters, Marinariers and Pizzerios of the Greater New York City Area:

Let me begin this letter by saying that I love your pizza. There are dozens of pizza places in this fine city that make unbeatable pizza – both in the boutique, brick oven, single-serving varieties as well as the old-school-huge-pie-three-cans-of-black-olive late-night varieties – and trust me – NYC wouldn’t be NYC without you. But I have a tiny suggestion. Some might say that what I am about to write is inappropriate – sacrilege, even – but surely there is progress to be made in the field of pizza, and surely without alternating viewpoints and ingredients we as a pizza city run the risk of becoming rusty and obsolete – or worse, pretentious and stubborn. But I think my humble suggestion would elevate the pizza of NYC to glorious new heights – while always leaving room in our hearts and stomachs for the unadulterated classics we’ve all come to know and love. So here goes.

I was in Eugene, Oregon for a few days over the summer. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hear me out: the West Coast is surprisingly skilled with pizza. And although I really have come to appreciate the simple in pizza – a good margherita (or its counterpart, the “regular slice”), for instance – since living in NYC, my eyes were opened after a trip to the Pizza Research Institute.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Pizza Research Institute? Come on. That sounds like a themed restaurant for children even too nerdy for Mars 2112. But they’re serious folks at the PRI. There is noble, honorable work being done at this institution. Delicious work.

As we sat down and I looked over the menu, first with a passive lack of interest, then with intrigue, then with a watering mouth and bugged out eyes – I realized that this was no ordinary pizza joint. These guys do not mess around. The “P3” – pears, pesto and roasted potatoes seemed at first a sloppy gimmick of alliteration that would be a cacophony of clashing tastes in my mouth. But as I thought about each of those flavors – the crisp, tart pear, the hearty robust potato, the basily, olivy roundness of fresh pesto – I started to salivate and quiver in my seat, eagerly awaiting our server’s arrival. When she showed up – promptly – to tell us the specials (you mean there are items even more special than those I already have my heart set upon?), and mentioned their extensive list of Pacific Northwest microbrews by the pitcher, I started to feel light-headed. And when she told me the two specials – curried cauliflower/pear/dried cranberry/CILANTRO PESTO (my heart is racing even now), and roasted anaheim peppers/FRESH RASPBERRIES/creme fraiche/habanero oil – I literally interrupted her with an exuberant “you have got to be kidding me.”

The illustrious P3.

Curried cauliflower and cilantro pesto are almost too amazing to describe.

Raspberries and habanero oil. Of course!

Oh, and the whole menu? Vegetarian or vegan. In many cases this would be a complaint. But with this food, it is a miraculous, joyful compliment.

I realized that I was ready to cast off my NYC pizza snobbery and try something so crazy it just might work. And work it did. Like a well-oiled machine. LIKE A WELL-OILED MACHINE.

I cannot tell you how amazing this pizza was. It was everything it had the potential to be and more. So many flavors, working in perfect, complex harmony. And all on a delicious herbed (I know, more blasphemy) semolina crust. It was like nothing I have ever had, on a pizza or otherwise.

And the best part about the whole thing is that the recipes are totally transparent. No bizarre sauces or emulsions, no secret ingredients. As complicated as these recipes may be by pizza standards, every slice was beautifully simple in reality. Everything is right there in front of you. And what’s more, it makes the pizzas very easy to replicate – or at least attempt to replicate.

My attempts at the two specials shown above. Fresh habaneros instead of oil. A little too much creme fraiche, and the crust didn't match up, but otherwise I think we did okay.

My obvious love for these pizzas does not for a second detract from the love I have for the simple, the traditional, the classic NYC pizza. But would it be the worst thing to have a little ingenuity, a little daring, a little fun with pizza here in NYC? We know it’s possible. And I’m writing this to tell you it works.

Just give it a shot, New York. Loosen up, buy a few raspberries and give it a shot. You’ll have a line out the door in no time. And I’ll be in it.

Cordially and with the greatest respect,

Alden