[Photographs: Niki Achitoff-Gray]

You're probably familiar with the scene: Dim lights dangle in tarnished metal cages, casting soft circles of light onto brick walls and a long, inviting bar. The yawning tiled oven beckons from a back corner. Welcoming, low-key, warm; it's the kind of place that makes you feel like you live next door. What's not to like? The staff will know you by name any minute now. Of course this is where you want to have that date on Friday, your next birthday party, your girls' night out.

It's a formula that seems to define a burgeoning class of pizzeria, of the wood-fired, Neapolitan, up-and-coming Brooklyn variety. And it looks great. But all too often, it simply doesn't add up to very good food. To the point that these days, I find myself more skeptical of an alluring décor and stunning oven than of, say, the sight of a poorly maintained corner joint. So, while I may have found Brooklyn Central charming, I wasn't exactly holding my breath for great pizza.

The wood-fired Stefano Ferrara oven ranges from the high 800s to 1000º F, depending on the volume of pies. Pizzas are in and out in 90 seconds or less. [Photograph: Alice Gao]

Boy, was I off the mark. Chef-owner Roberto Patriarca isn't just making good pizza, he's making truly wonderful Neapolitan-style pies. When we gave the Park Slope restaurant a First Look back in October, the Italian-born Patriarca was working alongside MPM frequenter Matt Hyland. The pair have since parted ways, but the menu maintains their original thematic divide between traditional "Old World" toppings and a more inventive array of "New World" combos.

The New World pizzas are all named after Brooklyn neighborhoods, in keeping with the restaurant's ode to the 5th Avenue train line that used to run through the area. There's not a strong correlation between the combos and their titles, and at times the menu feels gimmicky. But inventive and gimmicky is a far cry from wacky and ill-conceived. You'll be hard-pressed to find anything you haven't seen on a pizza before, let alone anything barbecued, deep fried, or seafoody. The distinction is more focused on classic Italian versus Italian-American, from where Patriarca sources his ingredients (more on that later) to the combinations themselves.

Leopard-spotting and the occasional charred dome are echoed by a healthy swath of spots beneath.

Toppings aside, the pizzas all share a damn fine crust. The center falls on the soupy side, but manages to thoroughly avoid sogginess. On one visit, there was some welcome crispness to the base; on another, I thought it could have used a few more seconds in the oven. Both times, though, the pillowy cornicione was tender, chewy, and studded with smoky bubbles. Patriarca also pushes the fermentation envelope, giving the bread a lively yeastiness.

The DOC ($15) emerged first, a shimmering landscape of delicate mozzarella disks and swirling rivulets of tart-sweet San Marzano tomato sauce. Patriarca tops all the Old World pies with fresh bufala mozzarella, imported from Italy. The soft, creamy bites are a special treat, particularly for the price.

Another Old Worlder, the Rapini ($16) is an impressively balanced pie. The broccoli rabe comes out remarkably supple, hitting that friendly side of al dente so crucial to bitter greens. The sausage makes for the perfect foil: Juicy, rich, and powerfully savory, it was a much-needed respite from the series of dry, mealy sausages I've encountered of late. Tied together by the mellow base of bufala mozz and that same unbelievably tender crust, it's a great winter warmer.

The cheeses on Brooklyn Central's New World pies come from Lioni Latticini, in Bensonhurst; the meats are sourced from M&S Prime Meats, conveniently located across the street from the pizzeria.

Just look at that beauty! Matte green crumbles of pistachio on a slick of buttery cheese...tantalizing, isn't it? Well, hang on to your hats, folks—I am in love with this pizza and I have a feeling it's about to make me some lifelong enemies.

The white Coney Island ($18) combines fresh cow's milk mozzarella, taleggio, pistachios, honey, and, yes, truffle oil. I wish I could side with the haters and declare that the oil makes the whole pie taste cloyingly artificial. But...it just doesn't. It probably helps that Patriarca doesn't drizzle the stuff directly onto his pizzas—he creates a ricotta-based spread that ensures an even, conservative distribution of the oil. Between the honey and the nutty sweetness of the pistachios, the Coney Island is definitely a desserty pie, so do consider requesting it to come out last; do not consider leaving it off your order.

If you somehow make it through your meal and have room for more, Brooklyn Central also serves up a variety of pizza-inspired desserts. The Banana-Nutella Calzone ($8) is pretty much exactly what it sounds like: a gooey, oozing mass of banana and chocolatey hazelnut spread, encased in pizza dough and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Here's what it looks like on the inside:

I tend to find Nutella overwhelmingly sweet and dense, and this dish was no exception (my dining companions, on the other hand, polished the whole thing off in under 5 minutes). But honestly, so what? I may not be back for the dessert, but there's no doubt I'll be returning to Brooklyn Central in the very near future. Probably for a girls' night out.

About the author:Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

VIEW SLIDESHOW: My Pie Monday: Kung Pao Pizza, BBQ Pulled Pork with Mango, Bacon Jam, and More!

Brighten up your day with some My Pie Monday inspiration. We have 17 contributions this week, running the gamut from breakfast to barbecue. Step on in and bask in the pizza glow!

Sweet pies seem to be trending this week: Amusebouche1 tops his brie and prosciutto pizza with a drizzle of Mike's Hot Honey, Norma shares a cinnamon-sugar Detroiter, SonnyC79's pepperoni pizza gets a douse of roasted jalapeño-infused honey, Derricktung adds some cubed mango to his barbecued pulled pork, and Dhorst2 unveils a breakfast pie dabbed with bacon jam and coffee-rubbed mozzarella.

On the savory side, we've got a puttanesca pie from Okaru, along with a hearty dose of cheddar from both Kcanonico and Paralleli. Imwalkin's chili cheese pie packs a punch, nzmick shares his first pan pizza, and Billgraney goes with a classic combo of bacon and caramelized onions. Jimmyg delivers a combo of peppers and garlic with young pecorino and mushrooms; Kenposurf pairs his peppers and garlic with scallions and olives. Tanner shakes things up with a crunchy Kung Pao-inspired pie, while Scottd keeps things traditional with a gorgeous Margherita.

See this week's pies in the slideshow »

Want to contribute to My Pie Monday? Just take one horizontal snapshot of your homemade pizza, briefly describe your cooking method, and follow these instructions to get it to Slice HQ by 8pm EST on Thursday night. Be sure to let us know your Slice/Serious Eats username!

Looking for inspiration? Find dozens of recipes and home kitchen adaptations on our Pizza-Making Guide or peruse our collection of past contributions.

Even if you're not baking your own pies, we want to know about the ones you're eating. Jump on the My Best Slice train and help us spotlight all the great pizza being enjoyed across the country. We don't care whether it's a humble corner slice or a fancy-pants pie, so long as you can tell us what makes it memorable. Send a photo and short description to pizza@seriouseats.com!

About the author:Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

I recently came across an article about a Michigan school district's "Annual Pizza Challenge." Participating students get to make their own pizzas from scratch and bake them in a solar oven. Made out of a pizza box.

No fair, right?!? I did a little digging and found this handy instructional video. Now we can all get in on the action! My Pie Monday: Solar Oven Edition, anyone?

How to Turn a Pizza Box into a Solar Oven

If that wee cardboard box doesn't quite cut it for you, you can always give this insanely awesome DIY solar pizza oven a shot. You'll only need a couple of old doors, a mirror, arm crutches, some granite slabs, cardboard, aluminum foil, a few planks of wood, "basic" carpentry skills, and a place to put the thing. Virtually none of which I have...*

*Feel free to buy me presents / skill sets / a house with a backyard!

How to Build a Solar Pizza Oven

About the author:Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

VIEW SLIDESHOW: Top This: Syracuse-Style Hot Wing Pizza à la Tomato Pie Pizza Joint

[Photographs: Kelly Bone]

We already know that Slice'rs give Buffalo Chicken Pizzatwo thumbs up, thanks to our rigorous, highly scientific research. And the folks over at Silver Lake's Tomato Pie Pizza Joint couldn't agree more...but some of their customers beg to differ. When founder Garrett Policastro found his regulars balking at blue cheese, he added a new Hot Wing option and named it after his hometown: Syracuse. The Hot Wing, Syracuse Style pizza is slathered with the same Frank's Red Hot Sauce, but replaces the controversial blue cheese with ranch dressing.

Mixing hot sauce and ranch dressing into the sauce base is a bold move, but it definitely gives the pizza consistency. Grilled chicken—marinated in that same hot sauce-ranch blend—is judiciously applied; Policastro manages to squeeze a piece into each bite without overpowering the pie. He also offers an off-menu vegetarian version with fiery sautéed vegetables, more ranch dressing, and gorgonzola. It's available by request, but can sometimes be found as the Chef's Special in the by-the-slice case.

What You'll Need

• One portion of NYC Style dough
• Mozzarella
• Grilled chicken
• Hot sauce
• Red pepper flakes
• Ranch dressing
• Honey
• Italian parsley (garnish)

Vegetarian? Substitute Chicken With:

• Minced garlic
• Onions
• Red bell pepper
• Mushrooms
• Zucchini
• Spinach
• Crumbled gorgonzola

Tomato Pie Pizza Joint

2457 Hyperion Ave. Los Angeles, CA 90027 (map)
310-314-2777; tomatopiepizzajoint.com

About the author: After nearly a decade in Brooklyn, Kelly Bone landed back in Los Angeles where she writes The Vegetarian Foodie. She spends the rest of her time designing office cubicles... you might be sitting in one right now! Follow her on Twitter at @TheVegFoodie

These approximately six to eight children may be the ultimate pizza gladiators. Their weapons? Sweet, sweet, slightly terrifying music.

What I wouldn't give to attend this particular battle of the bands. Especially if we could pit Old Skull and Pizza Kids against each other in hand-to-hand combat. Who would win? I'll let you be the judge:*

Old Skull: Pizza Man

Pizza Kids: We Like Pizza

*Don't be mislead by their adorable little faces. Old Skull is not entirely safe for work, so you may want to throw some headphones on...

VIEW SLIDESHOW: First Look: Pieous, Austin

[Photographs: Melody Fury]

Note: First Looks give previews of new drinks and menus we're curious about. Since they are arranged photo shoots and interviews with bars and restaurants, we do not make critical evaluations or recommendations.

Pieous has one of those inspiring origin stories that any food loving office worker loves to fantasize about. Last year, Joshua Kaner, a CPA and music attorney, finally hung up his calculator. Going with his gut, he purchased an old BBQ joint on W 290 with his wife, Paige. "She promised me that if she could have one more baby, I could open a restaurant," Kaner divulged.

So here they are today, proud proprietors of their very own one-month-old pizzeria. Paige, also an attorney, is now a mother of three. The couple spent 7 months gutting the space and building the restaurant from scratch. Kaner built as much with his own hands as possible, from the floors and tables, to a gleaming bar-top that borders the wood-fired pizza oven. The exterior was intentionally kept in its original "shabby" condition. In contrast, the interior's bright white tiles and chalkboard-coated walls, decorated with colorful messages, is designed to be refreshing and homey. "When people walk in the door, they're surprised and will tell others by word of mouth," Kaner explained.

His passion is evident on the walls, from a large chalk mural that says "Follow Your Passion" to smaller pieces that inform diners that the mozzarella is made in house. "I'm a picky bastard. I've eaten in the best places and have lived in New York and L.A., and I don't like food from many places," he said while pointing to his establishment's name. "To be pious means to be devoted. Pieous Is a play on that word because for me, food is religion."

Kaner's doughs are made with a sourdough starter that he's kept thriving for 12 years. Using the starter, he experimented with different recipes and observed master pizza makers' techniques until he discovered his ideal thin crust dough. He says work has paid off, hitting his goal of a Neapolitan-style crust with a crisp bottom, blistered edges, and just the right resistance or "pull."

The hand-kneaded dough gets a long rise, in order to develop enough flavor for it to stand on its own. In fact, he bakes loaves of sourdough for his house-smoked pastrami and handmade mozzarella plates. Slow smoked brisket is his way of honoring a Texan tradition.

A selection of 13 pies range from Neapolitan classics to less traditional combinations, like a bacon marmalade, gorgonzola, and arugula pie.

When asked about the quality, Josh explained, "I am a pizza snob but I like all sorts of pizzas. I think ours is the best in Austin. I don't want to make enemies but ours blows many others out of the water." That's a claim that he's standing behind, and expects diners to judge for themselves.

Apart from pizzas, Pieous also serves dessert pies, such as pecan and blueberry.

Pieous 12005 U.S. 290 West, Austin, TX 78737 (map) (512) 394-7041; facebook.com/pieous

About the author: Melody Fury is a cocktail and restaurant writer, and photographer that lives in Austin, TX. See what she's imbibing on Twitter @GourmetFury.

Scott Wiener knows what's up [Photograph: Scott Wiener]

The other day, I shared a video on how to turn your pizza box into a solar oven. Turns out BuzzFeedalso came out a round-up of some DIY pizza box tutorials..."15 Awesome Things You Can Make With A Stupid Pizza Box," to be exact (shakes fist at sky). A few of them are actually pretty neat innovations; most of them are still just pizza boxes. Here's their full rundown, in case you're curious:

1. DIY Laptop Stand: Fold it up all crazy and hope it doesn't break!
2. Cat Bed: Step 1, put it on the floor. Step 2, put your cat in it. If you don't have a cat, you should probably buy one, or this bed will go to waste.
3. Solar Oven »
4. Square Ring Flash »
5. Kiddy Easel »
6. Table Soccer »
7. XBox 360 Arcade Game Controller »
8. Pizza Bib: Open the box in your lap. Eat pizza.
9. Cardboard Clocks: Draw a clock on the box and secure the hands with a pushpin. Adjust every 60 seconds.
10. Crafty Birds Nest: Put some twigs in the box. Now it's a bird's nest.
11. Battleshots: Yes, that is battleship with shots. On a pizza box board.
12. Desktop Drawers »
13. "Prettier" Pizza Boxes: Paint the boxes. Now they are prettier.
14. Skee-Ball(ish) Game »
15. "Wall Art" (a.k.a. "wall art").


But why stop at 15 when there are so many possibilities? Here are few more pizza box inventions, courtesy of yours truly:

16. Pizza Box Gym: Fill up a pizza box with a bunch of rocks and carry it around for a while.
17. Pizza Box Stool: Put your pizza box on a stool and sit on it. Now it's a pizza box stool.
18. Pizza Box Table: Get off your pizza box stool and sit next to it on the floor. Now it's a pizza box table.
19. Pizza Box Box: Put some stuff in your pizza box and use it like...a box.
20. Pizza Box Sign: Write on the inside of the box. Tape it to a stick. Now it's a sign.
21. Even Bigger Pizza Box Box-Gym-Stool-Table: Buy this pizza. For the box, obviously.
22. Pizza Box TV: Cut out a square from the box and hold the frame in front of your face. Now you're on TV. Need a break? Just nail it to your wall. Now it's a:
23. Pizza Box Picture Frame.

About the author:Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

I didn't go to Florida looking for good pizza, but oddly (or is it serendipitously) enough, good pizza always seems to find me. It's a curse and a blessing. A blessing because, well, it's good pizza—one of the greatest foods known to man. A curse because I am forced to eat it everywhere I go. There are far worse curses to be burdened with, I suppose.

Winter Park is a resort-y suburb of Orlando. One of the first real communities designed to be livable from the ground up, it's where locals who want to get away from the Mickey Mouse brigade head to to buy spices, play in the park, chat over cocktails, or poke through the largest Tiffany glass collection on the planet. Because it's a planned city and not a product of urban sprawl or theme park development, there's a real neighborhood and community feel to it. The kind that makes you want to sit down by the park for a cold beer and a slice of pizza.

I walked into Prato, a modern Italian trattoria by the park, sure that I could at least get the former. But my hopes for the latter took a big plunge when our waitress proudly proclaimed "we bake our pizzas all the way at 500 degrees in a brick oven imported from Tuscany."

"500°," "brick oven," and "Tuscany" are not three words that you generally want to hear consecutively when ordering pizza.

So when I saw a pie whisked past me to another table, bearing a blistered crust and creamy blobs of what looked like real mozzarella, I immediately shot out of my chair. I followed the wake of steam it left behind, my nose gently sniffing the air like a bloodhound hot on the trail of fennel-specked Calabrian sausage and barnyardy Caciocavallo cheese, until I saw the oven, a wood fire roaring along one side, a shallow haze of smoke filling its upper cavity.

I made eye contact with the man slinging the pies.

There's a sort of unspoken recognition that takes place when two pizza obsessives meet in the wild. The eyebrow equivalent of a human handshake or a canine sniff-around. In the two seconds we looked at each other, he told me everything I needed to know.

No, our oven is not at 500°F. I just took its temperature with my infrared thermometer and clocked it in at a floor temperature of 800°F and a dome temperature pushing 900°F. Each pizza cooks in 90 seconds. My pies, which are made from an overnight fermented dough, are anointed with fresh imported tomato passata, along with fior di latte made locally specifically for us and delivered daily. My Parmigiano-Reggiano is grated, and my olive oil is extra virgin. I don't always use basil, but when I do, it is fresh.

It's also possible he told me all of this from his mouth. My notes are a little hazy on that point.

What I'm not hazy on is the quality of that pizza. A sublimely tender-crisp crust with just the barest hint of a crackly shell on its underbelly. Well seasoned, flavorful, and a pleasure to tear off and chew. Tomato as bright and fresh as you can hope for, along with creamy, milky mozzarella, bolstered with a grating of nutty Parmigiano. I would have preferred to have had the basil applied pre-bake so that its aroma would permeate the pie without marring its texture with leafiness, but there's no faulting the generous finishing drizzle of olive oil.

Like all great classic Neapolitan pies, this is one you have to eat quick. The moment it's sliced, the undercarriage starts to get wet (and some would argue that a Neapolitan pie should arrive at the table unsliced for this very reason). This is a fork-and-knife kind of pizza, no question.

I'd always imagined some sort of inverse Disney World-rule for pizza—the density of quality pizza joints in a given area is inversely proportional to the square of that area's distance from the closest Disney theme park. I'm glad that Prato was here to prove me quite wrong on that one.

The advice to glean here? Always double check your server's facts, especially when good pizza is on the line.

About the author: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt is the Chief Creative Officer of Serious Eats where he likes to explore the science of home cooking in his weekly column The Food Lab. You can follow him at @thefoodlab on Twitter, or at The Food Lab on Facebook.

[Photograph: Robyn Lee]

Are you a great writer and photographer who is infinitely passionate about pizza? Good news! Slice is looking for more contributors, and we're currently accepting applications. These positions are commitments to ongoing assignments that pay per post. Please read the following guidelines carefully before responding.

What We're Looking For

• A passion (and palate) for pizza: Do you love pizza in all its myriad forms? Will you go out of your way just to try a great slice? Do you have any special pizza-related skills or qualifications, like restaurant experience or your very own pizza oven? Can you tell us about different regional styles and oven types? You should have a finger on the pulse of the pizzeria openings and dining trends in your city.
• Strong writing skills: Your sentences are zippy, pithy, and fact-checked. They're descriptive and specific. They make us want to snatch the pizza off your plate and gobble it up. You send us clean copy that's spelled and punctuated correctly.
• Creativity and initiative: You have an ability to generate your own column ideas (and you actually enjoy doing so).
• Great photography: Your photos should be in focus, aesthetically pleasing, and, most importantly, make the pizza look good. If you aren't a photographer, consider roping in a photographer friend to work with you, though providing images is ultimately your responsibility. Show us what you've got!
• Basic photo editing skills: Color correcting, resizing, file optimization, cropping, etc. (Goes hand in hand with above.)
• Bandwidth and commitment: You have enough time to commit to a regular weekly or monthly dispatch, and meet set deadlines.
• Communication skills: You are responsible and take your commitment to Serious Eats...seriously. If something comes up, you let us know as soon as possible.
• Blog-savviness: A familiarity with blogging applications is preferred; a willingness to learn is required.
• Location, location, location: We welcome applicants from all around the country, but the following cities and their surrounding areas are currently in greatest demand: New Haven, Long Island (yes, we know, not a city), Portland, Seattle, Providence, D.C. and/or Baltimore, Detroit, Austin, Houston, Chicago, Philadelphia, and New Orleans.

How to Apply

• Your name and location, as well as your willingness/ability to travel locally.
• Photo samples or links to photographs you've taken, preferably including photographs of pizza.
• A list of the first three Slice reviews you would file if hired. Please make sure that these places have not already been reviewed on Slice!
• Your blogging skill set: How familiar are you with blogging applications and HTML?
• A sample pizza review that you feel accurately reflects your expertise and passion about pizza or two other food writing samples that you've done.
• A link to your blog or website, if you have one.

Please note that due to volume, we cannot reply to each pitch individually. Qualified applicants will be contacted via email to further the process.

*UPDATE*: We will be accepting applications over the next two weeks. Please do not rush to respond, we are not conducting rolling admissions so replying today as opposed to next week will not give you an advantage. It is far more important that you submit a typo-free, well-composed response. Take the time to write relevant material for submission, if necessary. If you have already replied and would like to revise your application, you are welcome to do so. Thank you for your time and we look forward to hearing from you!

VIEW SLIDESHOW: Los Angeles: A Trip Down the Mr. Pizza Rabbit Hole

People seem to like train wrecks. It's why Britney Spears has more money than the city of Detroit, and why we all have the misfortune of knowing that the Real Housewives exist. It's also why few of us can turn away when we see a pizza (usually madeby a foreign divisionof Pizza Hut) that closely resembles what Shelley was trying to get at in Frankenstein. What I'm saying is that people like a circus. And when it comes to cheese on dough, Barnum & Bailey ain't got nothin' on Mr. Pizza.

A popular South Korean chain, Mr. Pizza has graced the pages of Slice on more than one occasion thanks to oddball pies and a legitimately funny video on the dubious origins of pizza. They're expanding now, but there's only two shops in America, both in Los Angeles.

For gawkers who just want to do a drive-by on the pizza freak show, feel free to skip the nitty gritty and check out the slideshow above ». There's a crab, bacon, salsa and blue cheese dressing (among many other things) combo. There's cookie dough crust. That kind of stuff. But there's a lot more going on at Mr. Pizza than crazy food.

Words to live by from Mr. Pizza. [Photographs: Kelly Bone]

Check out the front of the menu. I can't fully explain Mr. Pizza's mantra ("Love for Women"), but it appears that women in Korea voted Mr. Pizza their favorite and he's doing his very best to reciprocate. I implore you to poke around their website. No doubt some of the fun is getting lost (and produced) in translation, but it's beyond fascinating to see how pizza gets marketed in faraway places.

Getting back to the food, you don't necessarily need to order something crazy like that shrimp-potato-cookie dough pie above. You're fully capable of ordering a boring pepperoni pizza if you wish, but all the signature pies all come with a heap of toppings. Before I dug into the Besolo (a pizza split into four varieties with, oh, 20 different ingredients), part of me was hoping that Mr. Pizza had cracked some ancient code and made art out of what looked to be a random collection of food items. Maybe Korea had found a way to mix components like Cajun shrimp, ground beef, chillies, bacon, corn, and olives into a bold and coherent new vision of pizza. To their credit, nothing was that bad individually...but together they tasted like scrapyard.

Yep, that greenish-yellow stuff is "sweet potato."

There are literally five different crusts available, but the big selling point of Mr. Pizza—at least according to the only two avowed fans I know (one of them being Kelly Bone)—is the "gold" crust. It's a relatively thin, hand-tossed(!) pan pizza with lumpy edges that are topped with cheddar and filled to the brim with sweet potato mousse. Though the mousse has a slightly disturbing yellow-green tint, it's ridiculously sweet and therefore fairly pleasing to the general population. Kelly's argument for Mr. Pizza is that you get a pizza (a Greek in her case) with relatively fresh vegetables (true) and then at the end you get dessert (also true, I guess). My counter-argument is that I will not sleep until she is safely committed to an institution. Also, since bread is the single most important part of the pizza equation, the fact that you can't eat the sweet potato crust with any portion of any other topping without tasting chemical weapons probably means that hundreds of years of splitting courses was a good idea.

The Greek pie seems downright normal until you get to the end.

Is that too harsh? Here's another argument against Mr. Pizza. After lunch there I felt like Bruce Willis in the The Last Boy Scout (or maybe the guy who got dropped through helicopter blades at the end). Haven't seen the movie? Okay, suffice it to say I was in bad shape. Could it just be because I ate a ton of pizza? I've done that before, so I doubt it. Perhaps it had something to do with the mix of sugar and the surprisingly large amount of oil leaking off the bottom of the pan pizzas. Regardless, if you make the trek, don't be a hero and finish the last slice.

Even my one stab at semi-normalcy, a Bulgogi (tomato, mozzarella, ground beef marinated in a traditional korean bulgogi sauce, onion, bell pepper, mushroom) on a "screen" crust was a disappointment. I was initially confused by what screen pizza was, but it turns out it's just a regular cardboard/conventional chain-style dough cooked on a screen in a conveyor oven. Nothing revolutionary. And though you could definitely taste plenty of soy in the ground beef, making it rather unique for a pizza, it didn't necessarily mesh with the other traditional ingredients. Ultimately, it was just a chain pie with a strange, salty kick.

There were exactly zero fights over last pieces.

There were other dark alleys I didn't get to stroll down. None of my dining companions would go for the stuffed cream cheese crust or the Seafood Island, featuring potato-wrapped shrimp, calamari, scallop, and ground beef. But from the crazy pizzas I did try, one pizza with a dozen different toppings didn't taste all that different from another.

Yeah, that brown stuff really is cookie dough. Or a form of it.

I want to be a pizza relativist and say that that Mr. Pizza is just targeted towards another culture, a different palette. But if you go through the slideshow you're definitely going to see an annoying touch of pizza snobbery. I can't help it; I hardly even have a memory of the basics, like the barely-there tomato sauce or the bland mozzarella, because they're basically afterthoughts.

Of course, there must be a legitimate reason why they were able to open up another shop downtown, and why their stated goal of world domination is slowly coming to fruition in Asia. I simply can't comprehend it. However, just because I won't be running off to join the circus doesn't mean it might not be a fun place for you to visit. The service is great. Just know that you're paying for an experience, and not an actual meal.

About the author:Lance Roberts is a writer in Los Angeles who's still waiting for The Last Boy Scout Part II.

Here's what's going on in the grand old world of pizza!

Scott's grandma gets her dance on at Scuola Vecchia, in Delray Beach, FL [Photograph: Scott Wiener]

• Scott Wiener's 93-year-old grandma does the best pizza dance.

• The grand opening of Motorino, Hong Kong appears imminent. We announced Motorino's new Hong Kong location back in January. Palombino ran into some oven-related delays, but managed to pull his first pies this past Sunday, according to thisThe New York Times article. On Wednesday, Eater reported that Motorino's doors are due to open to the public any day now.

• Forbes tackles serious issues, like Solving the Pizza Crisis in America. I learned some pretty cool facts, like "Americans consume 350 slices of pizza per second." And, "that comes out to more then 3 billion pizzas a year." Then, I got confused. I think the crisis is that people in our country are picky and have a hard time making up their minds and they eat a lot of pizza. Or maybe it's that there isn't enough room for innovation when it comes to pizza? Wait, or there is enough room and some chain pizzerias are doing it better than others, therefore there isn't actually a crisis? Help!

• St. Paddy's Day Pies, because what can't you celebrate with pizza? If you must, here is a video of how to make Gumby-colored pizza.

• Okay, so you don't feel so compelled (but still want to celebrate your Irish heritage with pizza):
  • Corned Beef and Cabbage Pizza »
  • Clover pies »
  • Mini pizzas with shamrock jalapeños »

• The folks over at Pitch.com are eating a lot pizza. Like, a lot. Specifically, 58 Kansas City pizzas in 3 days. They also just came out with a frozen pizza guide to rival our own(s).*

• Pizza monstrosity!HuffPo shares a pretty cool photo of a crazy pizza grilled cheese, by way of bsinthekitchen.com.

[Photograph: bsinthekitchen.com]

*One-time-only creative grammaring for contingency-flexible pluralization of collective possessives, thank you very much.

About the author:Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

[Photograph: J. Kenji López-Alt]

Is that a hardworking teaspoon of sugar just mindin' it's own business OR is it the shot heard 'round the world? If you frequent Slice, you may have spotted the recent re-emergence of a longstanding debate regarding Kenji's New York style pizza sauce. The recipe calls for a modest addition of sugar, and a whole lot of folks are just not having it. And I quote: "No, no, no, no, no, no, no," and "The red stuff on pizza is tomato sauce. There is no sugar in tomato sauce. I think I made that pretty clear," and "Are you crazy? Tomatoes in Tomato Sauce? The Italians are freakin freakin out! STOP IT!," and so on and so forth.

So, we want to know. Is that (biggish) pinch of sugar no big deal or utter, heinous blasphemy?

About the author:Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

[Photographs: Robyn Lee]

If you're having pizza this month,* don't forget to submit to My Best Slice! We want to hear about the best pizzas being enjoyed around the world, from the most humble of corner slices to the fanciest fancy pants pies in the land. Take a stunning photograph or a plain old snapshot and send it our way, along with a few short sentences telling us what makes it memorable. Is it a regional specialty, a hidden gem, a deservedly renowned pizzeria, or just a damn good pie? We don't care, as long as it's worthy of your praise.

*If you're not eating pizza, you and I have a big, round, pizza-sized bone to pick.

Ready to get started? Send one horizontal or square photo of a great pizza you've had this month to pizza@seriouseats.com, with the subject line "My Best Slice." Include a brief description of what makes it special, along with the name of the pizza (if it has one), and, of course, where to find it. We'll select the highlights for a slideshow at the end of the month, and, with any luck, even pay some visits to these pizzerias ourselves.

Self-promotion from businesses or their employees or representatives will not be accepted; for the same reason, a single location will not be represented more than once in any slideshow. Please limit yourself to one submission per month.

About the author:Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

[Photographs: Nick Solares]

I went to high school a few blocks away from the original Joe's Pizza, back when it sat at the intersection of Carmine and Bleecker. It was my go-to slice back then; an affordable snack that I could grab while skipping class and heading over to Bleecker Bob's to peruse records. In retrospect, I took those slices for granted, just as I did the rest of my wayward youth. This was in the late 1980's, and although Joe's had been open for well over a decade, I don't think it had quite attained the quintessential NYC status it holds today. The amazing thing is, the pizza at Joe's hasn't changed at all in the ensuing years—it remains as classic an example of the New York street slice as I've ever known.

What has changed, and drastically so, is the city itself. We have lost neighborhood slice joints like Joe's at an alarming rate. The pizzeria was actually forced to move back in 2005, but thankfully only a few doors down the block, on Carmine. The assault on traditional slice joints comes not only from gentrification, escalating rents, and the encroachment of national chains, but also, somewhat paradoxically, from the allure of rapidly proliferating $1 slice joints. It may be hard to argue with the cost of a $1 slice; what it delivers in the way of value is another matter entirely.

Granted, New Yorkers have enjoyed a renaissance of high-end pizza of late, especially for lovers of Neapolitan-style pies. And Artichoke Pizza has done a good job of generating a market for $4-5 slices. But what is increasingly missing, especially in the East Village / Union Square area, is the middle ground: authentic NY slices for under $3, at the ideal intersection of cost and quality.

Which is why I'm so giddy that Joe's has, at long last, expanded. The new 14th Street and 3rd Avenue pizzeria is mere blocks from my home, meaning that I've eaten there on more than a few occasions since it opened earlier this month. I couldn't be happier to report that "new" Joe's is still the real deal. It's a pure slice joint—no heroes, wraps or pasta—and at its best, the slices are virtually identical to those at the flagship location. Even when they don't quite meet those lofty standards, it's still easily my top neighborhood pick.

What to order

The plain cheese slice ($2.75) is a sure bet, especially if a pie looks fresh. I personally prefer a slightly warm slice that has been sitting for a bit to a piping hot reheat, but even the latter is a solid option.

The crust is thin in comparison to most other classic slice joints, and positively anemic when compared to most anything from Artichoke. It is crunchy and rigid enough to avoid complete tip sag, but still pliant, giving a pleasing textural contrast. This is a slice that is eminently portable—just fold and go.

The sooty blisters that are such a hallmark of the original Joe's are starting to appear on the pies on 14th Street as well, though they were decidedly absent on my initial visits.

The sauce—mild, slightly sweet and blessedly low in acidity—and the cheese—a milky low moisture mozzarella—are applied in perfect proportions for the thin crust. This slice is all about synergy, as so many have noted before.

The Sicilian ($3) is actually my favorite slice at Joe's, but it needs to be fresh from the oven...reheats tend to rob much of the life and sponginess from the crust.

But at its best, it's deceptively light and airy, with a crisp exterior giving way to a yeasty, honeycomb-structured interior. The cheese and sauce are also applied with the same harmonious balance as the regular slice.

What not to order

Unless you are getting a whole pie made to order, I would steer clear from any toppings. There always seems to be a beleaguered pepperoni pizza ($3.50) behind the display case, looking an awful lot like a regular cheese pie with some cold pepperoni thrown on top. Not only have the flavors never mingled in the oven, but the pepperoni is practically screaming "I'll never be crisp." Instead, it leaches its oil all over the pie, perching soggily on its bed of cheese. The same holds true for other toppings, so order at your own risk. If you insist on ignoring my good advice, at least insist that they leave the slice in the oven for as long as possible—they have a tendency to under-heat things when left to their own devices (this applies to the Sicilian slice as well).

I wanted to like the fresh mozzarella slice ($3.50), but I'm just not a fan. The cheese becomes desiccated, losing much of its flavor. I also discovered that the cheese on the regular slice adds a crucial structural component, holding the crust together where it ruptures.

The cheese on the fresh mozzarella slice is so sparsely dispersed that it provides no help whatsoever in this department.

Joe's Pizza is most assuredly my new go-to slice in the neighborhood, and I won't take it for granted this time around. Just as Joe's in the West Village is an easy recommendation for the area, the same holds true here. There's simply no reason to spend more than $2.75 a slice in these parts, and there is certainly no reason to spend less.

About the author:Nick Solares is an NYC-based food writer and photographer. He has published Beef Aficionado since 2007. He has been a Serious Eats contributor since 2008 and has written 400+ restaurant reviews and feature articles.

VIEW SLIDESHOW: My Pie Monday: Savory Caponata, Haute Hawaiian, French Bread Pizzas, and More!

Come one, come all! It's time for another round of My Pie Monday!

This week, we've got sourdough pies by way of Whohah and Kengk, along with a couple of French bread pizzas from jamesws and newcomer Taylor. Meanwhile, Npinto returns to the MPM fold with not one, but three gorgeous pies. Derricktung shares a glowing white pie, Mnvader and Csafranek go the pepperoni route, and Norma returns with another tantalizing Detroiter. Wagyutail adds some shiitakes to his pizza, TheMattSmith drops in with wild boar chorizo, and Billgraney throws grilled mushrooms and roasted red peppers into the mix. We've also got an inspired eggplant caponata pie from Okaru and, last but not least, a 'haute' Hawaiian pie from Stromie.

See all 14 of this week's pies in the slideshow »

Want to contribute to My Pie Monday? Just take one horizontal snapshot of your homemade pizza, briefly describe your cooking method, and follow these instructions to get it to Slice HQ by 8pm EST on Thursday night. Be sure to let us know your Slice/Serious Eats username!

Looking for inspiration? Find dozens of recipes and home kitchen adaptations on our Pizza-Making Guide or peruse our collection of past contributions.

Even if you're not baking your own pies, we want to know about the ones you're eating. Jump on the My Best Slice train and help us spotlight all the great pizza being enjoyed across the country. We don't care whether it's a humble corner slice or a fancy-pants pie, so long as you can tell us what makes it memorable. Send a photo and short description to pizza@seriouseats.com!

About the author:Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza. Also, she likes offal. A lot.

[Photograph: Adam Kuban]

PizzaMoto's mobile operation has been on our radar since 2008, when the team joined up with The Brooklyn Flea. We fell hard and fast for their wood-fired pies, which Slice meister Adam Kuban called "the best pizza I've had from a mobile oven to date."

But mobile ovens can be as tricky to find as they are to operate and maintain, so we were pretty pumped to learn that the PizzaMoto team is getting ready to open their very first stationary pizzeria this fall.

Worry not, mobile oven-chasers! Those heavenly pizza trucks aren't goin' anywhere—the new location just means that the rest of us lazy pizza freaks have a better shot at getting in on some of that PizzaMoto action.

After a long hunt, it looks like owner Dave Sclarow has found the perfect site for his new pizzeria, down in Red Hook. The Hamilton Ave. space once housed the John Grace Bakery; renovations have included excavating the bakery's stunning turn of the century oven that has been walled up for decades. Built in the 1890s, the oven is going to require some intensive restoration before it can churn out the quality pies for which Moto is known.

To get the oven into tip top shape, Dave is raising funds on Kickstarter, and with a goal $50,000 it looks like every little bit will help. Backers are promised everything from a PizzaMoto bumper sticker ($5 contribution) to a private pizza party ($5,000 contribution). Here's what Dave has to say about the project:

Restore a Turn of the Century Oven Hidden in Brooklyn!

[Video: PizzaMoto, via Kickstarter]

About the author:Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at The Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza.

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

Continuing our exploration of PLO's,* this week we're looking at matzo pizza. It's one of those ideas that seems great on paper, but doesn't quite pan out in reality. What you're hoping will happen is that your pizza will come out tasting something like a fresh, homemade version of a Domino's Thin Crust pizza. What really happens is that by the time your cheese is done melting, the sauce has soaked into your thin matzo base, and you end up folding the flaccid objects in half, hovering over the garbage can as you shamefully shovel them into your mouth, all the while hoping that your spouse or officemate don't walk in at the precise moment that the matzo loses all pretense of structural integrity and sheds its fillings over your shirt.**

*That'd be Pizza-Like Objects.
**That's ok, it hadn't been washed recently anyway.

So how do you prevent this sort of blowout? Simple really. There are only two rules.

First: do not oversauce your matzo. Matzo and cats have one thing in common: they fear liquid. Use only a sparing amount of sauce. Better yet, just use rough chunks of drained canned tomatoes and apply in spots like you would for a grilled pizza.

Second: melt a thin layer of structural cheese onto your matzo before applying your sauce. Just like with French Bread Pizza, this cheese will form a moisture barrier, helping to keep your matzo firm and crisp under even the fiercest of topping onslaughts.

For an extra-crisp, greasy-on-the-bottom Domino's appeal, finish off the pizzas stovetop in a bit of olive oil.

The pizzas are thin and have a tendency to cool down far faster than you'd like them to, so make sure to eat up fast. I have a feeling this won't be a problem.

Get The Recipe!

Matzo Pizza »

About the author: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt is the Chief Creative Officer of Serious Eats where he likes to explore the science of home cooking in his weekly column The Food Lab. You can follow him at @thefoodlab on Twitter, or at The Food Lab on Facebook.

[Photographs: Erin Jackson]

When it comes to pizza, San Diego is still in its awkward teenage years. Truly excellent purveyors are on the rise and the potential is evident, but compared to what's going on in pizza capitals like New York or Chicago, it's clear that we've got a lot of growing up to do. Still, the positive response to new pizzerias that are dedicated to honing their craft is always encouraging. Such is the case with Buona Forchetta, the latest addition to SD's decidedly uncrowded Neapolitan pizza scene.

The husband-and-wife-owned spot in South Park is committed to making pizzas in the traditional Neapolitan style, using top-notch olive oil—co-owner Matteo Cattaneo has a line on Farchioni oil because, well, his family produces it—San Marzano tomato sauce, and a gold-tiled Stefano Ferrara wood-fired pizza oven.

Comparisons to North Park's neighboring Neapolitan-style joint, Pizzeria Bruno, are inevitable. But Buona Forchetta sets itself apart with a larger, more comprehensive menu that boasts 21 varieties of pizza alongside a range of calzones, fresh pastas, antipasti, salads, and desserts (including a killer tiramisu). In addition to their red and white pies, the South Park restaurant has an exciting selection of pizze fritte, which are lightly fried before they're finished in the oven.

The Regina Margherita ($13) features milky bufala mozzarella, generously portioned over a thin layer of bright, sweet San Marzano tomato sauce. The crust is soft and a bit chewy, with some minor leopard spotting; as Neapolitan-style pies go, it isn't jarringly different from a standard thin-crust pie. The char is minimal, and the crust is crisp enough on the bottom that you can easily pick up a slice, fold it, and eat it like any other pizza (unlike Bruno, which is strictly a fork-and-knife affair). What really makes you take notice of the pies at Buona Forchetta is the salt, particularly on the margherita pie. The salty spike in each bite was admittedly tasty, but by my third slice, I was scraping off the excess.

I far prefer the Alexa ($12). It's topped with crumbled housemade fennel sausage and rapini, and it's not nearly as salty as the Margherita. The bitter veg plays off the sweet, mild sausage for a nice, well-balanced pie. Say yes to chili flakes on this one: the injection of heat into this equation works wonders.

Unfortunately, the execution wasn't totally consistent, and on two separate visits, I was served pizzas with significantly uneven charring.

The six pies I sampled were all a bit different: some wet on the bottom, others with plenty of char. I'm chalking it up to a bit of a learning curve on the oven. Even so, $13 for a mostly-perfect buffalo mozzarella Margherita pie is still pretty awesome.

Let me also make a motion for the house-made tiramisu ($6), which is perfect in its simplicity and the ideal final act to a slightly-too-salty-to-savory meal. Trust me on this one.

About the author: Erin Jackson is a food writer and photographer who is obsessed with discovering the best eats in San Diego. You can find all of her discoveries on her San Diego food blog EJeats.com. On Twitter, she's @ErinJax

Back in January, we told you that Scott Wiener was hiring new guides for his famed NYC pizza tours. Looks like we're not the only ones whose interest was piqued by his job posting. Scott Rogowsky, of the Running Late Show, swung by for a couple of interviews of his own...and let's just say he has his work cut out for him.

The clips will be highlighted at a special screening at Galapagos on March 28, as part of an episode featuring David Cross, Andrew WK, Alan Zweibel, and our very own Scott Wiener!

Check out the Scott-on-Scott pizza action below:

Part 1: Tour guide interview

Part 2: Bad tour guide experience

About the author:Niki Achitoff-Gray is the editor of Slice and a part-time student at The Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into pizza.

VIEW SLIDESHOW: First Look: Winflo Osteria, Austin

[Photographs: Meredith Bethune]

Note: First Looks give previews of new dishes, drinks, and menus we're curious about. Since they are arranged photo shoots and interviews with restaurants, we do not make critical evaluations or recommendations.

John Pennington hasn't skipped any steps during his fourteen years in the restaurant industry. Starting as a dishwasher, he worked his way up to become the executive chef and co-owner of his own restaurant. Winflo Osteria, tucked away in Austin's charming Clarksville neighborhood, is a collaboration between Pennington, his wife, brother-in-law, and a longtime friend. The restaurant occupies an impeccably restored bright green bungalow, just west of downtown. In addition to the dining room and bar, there's an expansive patio shaded by a stately old oak tree.

Pennington's kitchen produces Neapolitan-style pizzas and Italian meat and pasta dishes "based around something you would find in a house in Italy—dishes you would find in a home." A selection of antipasti, soups, salads, and an Italian-focused wine list complete the menu.

But the massive wood-burning Forno Bravo oven is the heart of the kitchen. The selection of eight pizzas is decidedly traditional; for a ninth option, Imaginazione, the chef will pick the ingredients for you, should your own imagination fail you. Pennington developed the recipes together with his wife, Megan Dickson, with whom he previously operated a pie shop in South Austin.

There's a Margherita ($13), as well as more unique offerings like the Prosciutto ($16), with additional toppings of with arugula and caramelized onions. They make a classic Neapolitan-style dough, with a 24 hour rise. Like most other pizzerias (and barbecue pits) in Central Texas, the Winflo oven burns oak. Pennington appreciates it for the smokey flavor that "has a hint of barbecue but isn't overwhelming." The oven gets as hot as 900 degrees, so his pizzas cook in just about ninety seconds.

Now, Winflo Osteria is striving to become the first Neapolitan-certified, or VPN, restaurant in Austin. It's a distinction determined by Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana, based on criteria like the use of a wood-burning oven, handmade mozzarella, "00" flour, San Marzano tomatoes, and hand-kneaded pizza dough.

Why the focus on pizza? "It's a passion of mine. I love its simplicity" says Pennington. He also relishes the tactile aspect of working with dough. "I love creating something with my hands," he says.

Winflo Osteria

1315 West 6th Street, Austin TX 78704 (map)
512-582-1027
winfloosteria.com

About the author: Meredith Bethune is a writer and blogger based in Austin, TX. Follow her on Twitter (@MeredithBethune).