We all know my affinity for the almighty Pizza Pie and everything for which it stands. It is both pedestrian and regal; down-to-earth while remaining extraordinary, and possesses an unmatched ability to satiate my mind and my body in a way no other morsel of deliciousness can. But this is old news at this point; what isn't (old news) is my continuing efforts to check off from my list of "must-visit", every once-talked-about pizza joint in the City.
It seem as though I find myself dragging my feet when it comes to keeping up with New York's pizza scene. I can't say I do a good job of staying on the cutting edge of the next great slice, and much of that is probably due to my absolutely hating having to brave the long lines and overcrowded dining rooms that usually come with a new, buzz-worthy joint.
My relationship with pizza is a strange thing. While I absolutely love engaging in a disgusting, upper palette-singeing, stomach-bloating, crust remnant-piling extravaganza that is as uncouth as it is euphoric, at the same time, I have to be in the mood for this sort of slovenly stint of selfishness in order for it to actually happen. As the Ubereater, eating pizza is serious business, an epicurean endeavor not meant to be taken lightly.
It is for this reason that I have yet to check off of my short list a handful of pizza joints that dominate the daily dialogue among the city's learned culinary circles. I am of course, referring to ageless classics like Brooklyn fixtures Di Fara's and Grimaldi's, as well as renowned newcomers like Franny's in Park Slope, Lucali in Carroll Gardens, and East Village juggernauts Artichoke Basille and Una Pizza Napoletana. Beyond the typical Lombardi's-John's-Patsy's realm, these drive the conversation, and yet I've only eaten at one (Artichoke).
What's interesting is that once you get past these household names, the scene in the City gets a little murky as you wade in a pool of second tier pizzeria's that seem to garner a mixed response among the community. Outside of the direct spotlight, it is these spots that enjoy an element of anonymity marked by ambiguity that is both a blessing and a curse - a blessing to be able to operate under the radar - a curse to not to be able to get the radar's attention. A perfect example is Luzzo's in the East Village, a chat-worthy establishment in the pizza-centric EV that has seemingly disappointed as many as it has impressed. (Though I'm starting to believe that I overestimated the latter.) In the mood, hungry, and open-minded, I finally had the opportunity to experience Luzzo's, in all its apparent ambivalence. I can finally scratch it off the list...and for good at that.
Occupying a tiny sliver of partially gentrified 1st Avenue, Luzzo's is missable if you're not looking for it. Aesthetically, this Italian-run business has all the trappings of charming pizzeria - tall wooden booths running along each side of the narrow space, ample, somewhat rustic artwork tastefully dressing the walls, and an overall coziness to the surroundings. Without question, thought was put into what's going on here, on a visual level anyway. Still, and I'm being picky here perhaps, but the decision to blast a local rock station over the sound system as opposed to some nice Bocelli, or Italian Rock like Eros Ramazzotti was a bit annoying. Not that this is something that would prevent me from enjoying the pie (the pie would be the culprit for that), but nevertheless, it was duly noted. It is never my intention to be picayune about these sorts of things, but I really don't need to hear Bon Jovi's "It's My Life" at ear drum-popping levels while I wait for my pie. The song was already annoying to begin with.
And what about that pie?
In short, it was alright I suppose, at least first, but realistically, Luzzo's is a huge let-down. Our large "Salsiccia", which was tomato, mozzy, basil, and obviously sausage, did not warrant its $22 price tag. (Below)
At first glance, the pie is enticing, if not completely promising sporting a well-charred crust, large pads of mozzy, asysmmetrically distributed globules of sausage, and a moderate dose of red gravy, highlighted by a few sprigs of fresh basil. All in all, a comely creation, but as we all should've learned, comeliness comes next to tastiness...sometimes.
To its credit, the Salsiccia was generously topped, though somewhat all for naught. The main problem here is that the dough is essentially tasteless, and without any defining texture or character. It is neither yeasty, nor floury, nor crunchy, nor flaky, but simply there. It was almost as if the dough was a complete afterthought, failing to act as the foundation of flavor for the pizza. What's more, though its use is always appreciated, the mozzy, and the whole pie in general, was grossly undercooked, making for a mushy mouth feel.
To be fair, you may hear me say I love my pies slightly undercooked, and in certain establishments I do, but Luzzo's dough is not nearly eccentric enough to exhibit itself if taken out of the oven a few minutes early.
To that extent then, I would submit that the Luzzo's pie, left in the oven for a few more minutes, would be a drastically better piece of work, boasting a crunchy crust, and more thoroughly cooked components, that together do a much better job of coming together.
As is usually the case, vetting the middle-of-the-road pies in the City can either be mind-blowing and self-satisfying, or entirely underwhelming. As I said before, these second-tiers players bear the onus of not only decrying the constant criticism from many for being overrated, but also fighting to garner the retro-active credit for being grossly underrated.
In an East Village pizza scene that is only getting more competitive, I had hoped Luzzo's pie would be grounded and honest enough to afford itself the luxury of not even bothering with the spotlight-sucking likes of Artichoke and Una Pizza Napoletana. A sturdy, "dirtier' pie, in a simple, trattoria-type setting (kill the rock music), offered at a reasonable price ($20+ is a bit much) would've been just what the EV needed to dilute the growing effrontery of Una Pizza Napoletana's self-involved DOC "masterpieces", and Artichoke's egregious disregard for time management. But Luzzo's doesn't do this, and instead, serves a "fashion" pie: easy on the eyes, until you put it on, or in this case, in your mouth.
Quite a mistake when you realize that, unlike just about every other facet of NYC, when it comes to Pizza, good looks on their own, just won't cut it.
Luzzo's (map it)
Pie: C+ - Handsome, but lacking flavor, and texture, too salty
Ambiance: C - Comforting at first, then a bit grating thanks to blasting music
Service: A - Courteous, swift, and attentive
In a thought: "Easily encouraging at first, and as easily disappointing after."
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