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Sal & Carmine’s in the Upper West Side AJ and I happened to find ourselves in the area for one reason or other, and I turned to my trusty Yelp to point us in the direction of a great slice (or four). With two names that sounded as authentically Italian-American as Sal and Carmine, and a number of rave reviews - particularly one mentioning a “cheese and sauce orgasm” - we were hooked. There was a nice elderly man working behind the counter, who was having trouble with hearing us as well as moving faster than snail’s pace. But in his defense, business was not booming at that hour (we were the only ones there) so why rush? We each got two slices: I got one pepperoni and one spinach, AJ got one sausage and one cheese. The crust was perfectly crunchy, and the spinach was surprisingly tasty, despite looking like it had been sitting out for a while. I wouldn’t exactly call it a pizzagasm, but it was clear that I was getting something I couldn’t get in California. Legitimately New York … as far as my inexperienced New York taste buds could discern. 

Sal & Carmine’s in the Upper West Side

AJ and I happened to find ourselves in the area for one reason or other, and I turned to my trusty Yelp to point us in the direction of a great slice (or four). With two names that sounded as authentically Italian-American as Sal and Carmine, and a number of rave reviews - particularly one mentioning a “cheese and sauce orgasm” - we were hooked.

There was a nice elderly man working behind the counter, who was having trouble with hearing us as well as moving faster than snail’s pace. But in his defense, business was not booming at that hour (we were the only ones there) so why rush?

We each got two slices: I got one pepperoni and one spinach, AJ got one sausage and one cheese. The crust was perfectly crunchy, and the spinach was surprisingly tasty, despite looking like it had been sitting out for a while. I wouldn’t exactly call it a pizzagasm, but it was clear that I was getting something I couldn’t get in California. Legitimately New York … as far as my inexperienced New York taste buds could discern. 

Artichoke, East Village We had been on a mission up until this point. A mission to compare as many New York City pizzas as we can and pick our favorite. We were dealing with the normal stuff, the classics: your cheeses, your pepperonis, your sausages…run of the mill (but delicious) pizza stuff. Artichoke pizza threw our plan off. It turned our plan on it’s head, and beat it to the ground. And kicked it in the crotch. I’m not saying it’s BETTER than everything else. I’m saying it’s so different than anything I’ve ever had that to compare it to other pizza would be unfair and illogical. Maybe it’s the fact that they took two of the most sinfully delicious and calorically rich foods out there - well-made pizza and spinach and artichoke dip - and made them do the nasty with eachother. Maybe it’s because each slice is as big as two of my faces (and I have a relatively large head, for my body size.) Maybe it’s the ingredients or an art they have honed in making it or maybe they put illegal substances in their pizza. All I know is my mind was blown. I’ve had artichoke spinach pizzas before … I think. Possibly at BJ’s or something. Can’t remember. No other artichoke pizza matters. It’s a small place with no indoor seating, and minimal outdoor seating. (We’re talking one backless bench kind of seating.) Another one of those places where the line is out the door and then some when the drunkies come out. Even during the day it was pretty busy. I decided to deviate from conformity and order the crab pizza. Actually it was part of my scheme to get the best of both worlds, since everyone else I was with got the artichoke, and I was sure I could steal a bite or two. They didn’t have cold drinks. Maybe their fridge was broken but they were all room temperature. Almost as if to say “eff you. We make effing artichoke pizza. Get your cold water somewhere else.” There really isn’t anything to say. Imagine spinach and artichoke dip baked on crispysoft pizza dough. Imagine how good that would be…and multiply by 10. I hate myself a little for saying this, but there is such a thing as overkill when it comes to these. Angel and I ordered a pie to take home, and when we were eating them for days, it was too much. I am only just getting to the point where I could have another, and it’s been weeks. But writing about it has made me yearn for it once again. I think I may revisit the crab though. It’s not as heavy and was also delicious. And I hear the Sicilian is the bomb too. Le sigh. So much to eat, so little time.

Artichoke, East Village

We had been on a mission up until this point. A mission to compare as many New York City pizzas as we can and pick our favorite. We were dealing with the normal stuff, the classics: your cheeses, your pepperonis, your sausages…run of the mill (but delicious) pizza stuff. Artichoke pizza threw our plan off. It turned our plan on it’s head, and beat it to the ground. And kicked it in the crotch.

I’m not saying it’s BETTER than everything else. I’m saying it’s so different than anything I’ve ever had that to compare it to other pizza would be unfair and illogical.

Maybe it’s the fact that they took two of the most sinfully delicious and calorically rich foods out there - well-made pizza and spinach and artichoke dip - and made them do the nasty with eachother. Maybe it’s because each slice is as big as two of my faces (and I have a relatively large head, for my body size.) Maybe it’s the ingredients or an art they have honed in making it or maybe they put illegal substances in their pizza. All I know is my mind was blown.

I’ve had artichoke spinach pizzas before … I think. Possibly at BJ’s or something. Can’t remember. No other artichoke pizza matters.

It’s a small place with no indoor seating, and minimal outdoor seating. (We’re talking one backless bench kind of seating.) Another one of those places where the line is out the door and then some when the drunkies come out. Even during the day it was pretty busy. I decided to deviate from conformity and order the crab pizza. Actually it was part of my scheme to get the best of both worlds, since everyone else I was with got the artichoke, and I was sure I could steal a bite or two. They didn’t have cold drinks. Maybe their fridge was broken but they were all room temperature. Almost as if to say “eff you. We make effing artichoke pizza. Get your cold water somewhere else.”

There really isn’t anything to say. Imagine spinach and artichoke dip baked on crispysoft pizza dough. Imagine how good that would be…and multiply by 10.

I hate myself a little for saying this, but there is such a thing as overkill when it comes to these. Angel and I ordered a pie to take home, and when we were eating them for days, it was too much. I am only just getting to the point where I could have another, and it’s been weeks. But writing about it has made me yearn for it once again. I think I may revisit the crab though. It’s not as heavy and was also delicious. And I hear the Sicilian is the bomb too.

Le sigh. So much to eat, so little time.

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