Sorry that the pictures didn't paste in.
Pizza Quest: A Cross-Country Guide to America’s Best Pies
America has regional pizza styles all its own, and each one has a fascinating story to tell. This summer, get out there and taste them for yourself. Here’s your road map
By Eleanore Park
Updated July 25, 2019 3:52 pm ET
Imagine a world before Pizza Hut, a time before Domino’s and Papa John’s homogenized our notions of what pizza can be. Over the last century, a patchwork of idiosyncratic styles emerged in family-owned pizzerias across the U.S., each one a history written in flour, tomatoes and cheese. I’ve made it my mission to sample them all.
The Detroit style is as different from Chicago deep dish as a pug is from a poodle—though, in a strictly culinary sense, the American-born pizzas do share common features. “To me, it’s silly when you see people trying to create this taxonomy of pizza,” said Anthony Falco, formerly of Brooklyn pizza destination Roberta’s, now a self-styled international pizza consultant who’s brought “New York-inspired” pizza to Bangkok and his expertise to Kuwait, Toronto, Colombia and Ulaanbaatar. “I feel like there are only really two stories: Neapolitan immigrants and Sicilian immigrants. Squarish, pan-baked pizzas by the Sicilians and round, hearth-baked pizzas from the Neapolitans.”
EXTRA CHEESE Detroit Zoo pie with roasted tomatoes, fresh basil and tomato basil-sauce at Buddy's Pizza in Detroit. PHOTO: MARVIN SHAOUNI FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
True enough, as far as it goes. Pizza, however, is more than crust, sauce and cheese. The originators of the Detroit style did have roots in Sicily; their crust has the Sicilian square shape. But it gets a singular crunch and caramelized bottom from the blue-steel pans it bakes in— borrowed, it’s said, from Detroit factories where they held auto parts. The buttery brick cheese comes from neighboring Wisconsin. Sit down at a checker-clothed table at Buddy’s Pizza on Detroit’s east side, and you’re at eye-level with the neighborhood’s past, in black-and-white photos lining the walls. At tables all around, you’ll find a tableau of the people who followed the Sicilians to Detroit and the bordering city of Hamtramck, one of the most diverse in the nation. What museum offers such a visceral experience of history?
That said, you should tour the nearby Motown Museum and the Ford Rouge Factory, too, for a picture of the once-thriving industrial economy that provided a market for Buddy’s Pizza and an opportunity for founder Gus Guerra.
Visiting these places is a kind of time travel. In his 2005 book “Pizza: A Slice of Heaven,” Ed Levine documents two waves of pizza innovation. Around the turn of the 20th century, more than 4 million Italians immigrated to the U.S., largely from southern Italy; many found factory work on the eastern seaboard. Anthracite mines in Pennsylvania provided hot-burning coal for bread ovens repurposed for pizza. Places such as Sally’s Apizza in New Haven, Conn., (1938) still use coal ovens. Their well-charred pies offer a taste of the cooking of another century.
The pizza places that opened in the northeast between 1900 and the ’30s served growing immigrant enclaves and workers in search of cheap meals and companionship. “Sociologists talk about the need for third places in every culture, the one place people can gather besides work and home,” writes Mr. Levine. “It seems to me that pizzerias were a third place in many Italian-American communities.”
By all reports, hand-kneading dough and stoking coal were physically grueling. Commercial mixers and gas ovens set the stage for a second pizzeria boom post World War II. Some, such as DiCarlo’s Pizza—founded right after the war with locations, initially, in Steubenville, Ohio, and Wheeling, W.V.—were the projects of soldiers returning from Italy to a ready market of shift workers with disposable income to spend.
According to a 1949 article in the Wheeling News-Register, Primo Di Carlo, son of bakery owners, came home thinking of a “little ‘Pizzaria’ crowded with GIs” he’d seen overseas: “Why couldn’t they be as popular here as over there?” The writer explains what pizza is (“an Italian bread dough base...garnished with a sauce of tomatoes”) to a readership presumed to be unfamiliar with this food. Today you can try the pizza Primo and his brother Galdo came up with at DiCarlo’s and other pizzerias throughout the Ohio Valley. Sold by the rectangular slice, it’s known for the cold cheese piled on top.
Would a native Neapolitan or Sicilian recognize Chicago’s stuffed pizza—a sort of pizza pot pie with a flaky double crust—as one of their own? Perhaps the postwar pies are best understood as American, a response to available technology and ingredients and the markets they fed. The cheffy inventions of the ‘70s and ‘80s—the California pizza and Rhode Island’s grilled pizza— really belong in a class of their own.
Now a new wave of pizza innovators is shaping up into a legitimate movement, investing the
humble pie with some of the rough-hewn appeal of those hand-kneaded coal-oven pies of yore. These artisan types follow in the floury footsteps of sourdough pioneer Chad Robertson, of San Francisco’s Tartine Bakery, and Chris Bianco, who opened Pizzeria Bianco in Phoenix in 1988. (These two apostles of hand-milled heirloom grains actually joined forces earlier this year in Tartine Bianco, the all-day cafe at the Manufactory at ROW DTLA, a restaurant-bakery-market in Los Angeles.) “My ‘Tartine Bread’ cookbook is in pieces, I’ve referred to it so much over the years,” said Sarah Minnick of Lovely’s Fifty Fifty in Portland, Ore. “I was dedicated to the American-style pie, but done as Chris Bianco would, with really nice olive oil and great flour,” said Joe Beddia of Pizzeria Beddia in Philadelphia.
Some nuovo pizzaiolos bump up against the notion that pizza should be cheap. “What’s overlooked is that pizza can be an expression of agriculture,” said Rick Easton of Bread and Salt in Jersey City, N.J. “So much effort and labor goes into producing ingredients of quality. Pizza becomes this incredible way to showcase that.”
My ideal pizza road trip includes a mix of regional classics and nuovos. A knowledge of the former helps you assess the latter—which, in turn, ensures that you get your vegetables, in the form of delicious and, it must be said, highly photogenic toppings. Like their predecessors, these new-wave pizzaiolos have product to move.
These Are Not America’s Top 10 Pizzas
But they might be the most meaningful. At these classic joints across the country, dough, sauce, cheese, local history and individual inspiration converge in regional pizza styles as distinct as their respective states’ flags. How many can you sample this summer? There are many more, from Old Forge, Pa., to the Quad Cities of Illinois/Iowa.
ON THE RISE Long-fermented crusts at Bread and Salt in Jersey City, N.J. PHOTO: NICO SCHINCO FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
1. Milwaukee, aka tavern-style
The Range: Green Bay to Kenosha, Wis., with cousins around the Midwest
The Spot: Maria’s Pizza (5025 W. Forest Home Ave., Milwaukee); opened in 1957
The Context: Twinkle lights bring a magic glow to the religious-themed paint-by-numbers on the wood-paneled walls. (“They were blessed by the monsignor years ago. We can’t get rid of
Flatbreads at Tartine Bianco at ROW DTLA in Los Angeles. PHOTO: JAKOB N. LAYMAN
SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS:
them.”) Second- generation co- owner Bonnie Crivello runs the front of house in her trademark red stilettos. Her niece and co- owner Maria Story manages the kitchen.
The Pizza: An
What’s your favorite local pizza spot? What sets its pizza apart? Join the conversation below.
oblong
cracker-thin crust with a thick, slightly sweet
tomato sauce. A real Milwaukee pie has toppings of sausage, onions and mushrooms (canned, please).
The Origin Story: Maria Traxel started out making Neapolitan-style pies for her co-workers at Inland Steel. In 1957 she opened her restaurant. Her kind heart never let anyone go hungry, and her family-friendly place remains alcohol-free and cash-only.
—Christina Ward
2. Deep Dish
The Range: Chicagoland areaThe Spot: Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria (439 N. Wells St., Chicago); opened in 1986
Maria's Pizza in Milwaukee, Wis. PHOTO: ADAM RYAN MORRIS FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
The Context: Though not the first-ever location of this local chain, its first city outpost is quintessential Chicago, in a walk-up building a block from the El train. The two-story space has a red-leather-banquette and exposed-brick vibe.
The Pizza: Contrary to popular belief, deep dish doesn’t mean thick crust. At Lou’s, the flaky, buttery dough is patted out by hand and raised along the sides of the pan, then filled with sliced mozz and toppings (sausage is king), with a blanket of chunky California-grown-plum-tomato sauce on top.
The Origin Story: Lou’s father, Rudy Malnati, is rumored to have come up with his recipe while working at Chicago legend Pizzeria Uno in the ’50s. Lou trained alongside Rudy before opening his first pizzeria in suburban Lincolnwood in 1971. Lou’s sons Marc and Rick expanded operations and trademarked their flaky Buttercrust.
—Jamie Feldmar
The Range: Western New York
3. Buffalo
The Spot: Bocce Club Pizza (4174 N. Bailey Ave., Buffalo, N.Y.); opened in 1946
The Context: 15 minutes northeast of the Canalside development in this revitalizing city, the long, arched building promises a palatial dining room but is mostly devoted to ovens. This is parking-lot pizza—you’ll want to start eating in your car.
The Pizza: Imagine a New York slice with triple the cheese and twice the sauce, with a shortening-browned undercarriage and toppings spread to the edge. Baseline on these 18-inch monsters: cup-and-char pepperoni, concave rounds blackened around the ridge.
The Origin Story: The business began as a bocce club downtown. Bartender Dino Pacciotti bought it and started experimenting with a pizza oven he’s said to have found in the basement. The place was so popular, parishioners of a nearby church were skipping mass for pizza and liquor. “The priest wasn’t happy,” said owner Jim Pacciotti, “so we moved.”
—Arthur Bovino
4. Detroit
The Range: Historically, Motor City and other points in Michigan; recently, nationwideThe Spot: Buddy’s Pizza (17125 Conant St., Detroit); opened in 1946
The Lake Erie pizza at Buddy's Pizza in Detroit. PHOTO: MARVIN SHAOUNI FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
The Context: Colorful murals frame the original location of Buddy’s. Inside, long tables are covered with red- and green-checkered tablecloths. The yellow overhead lights are hardly Instagram-friendly, but that’s part of the charm.
The Pizza: Thick, airy, rectangular crust somewhere between focaccia and a classic Sicilian, topped edge-to-edge with semisoft Wisconsin brick cheese that browns, bubbles and gets dark and lacy around the edge. Toppings can be baked under or above the cheese. ”Racing stripes” of warm tomato sauce go on top.
The Origin Story: Legend has it Gus Guerra, owner of local bar Buddy’s Rendezvous, used his Sicilian mother-in-law’s pizza recipe and stuffed the dough into blue-steel pans used to hold spare auto parts, borrowed from a pal at a nearby factory. The pans gave his pies their nice caramelized crust.
—Khushbu Shah
5. Philadelphia Tomato Pie
The Range: Philly and a few other parts of the Mid-AtlanticThe Spot: Sarcone’s Bakery (758 S. 9th St., Philadelphia); opened in 1918
The Context: A short walk from the Italian Market in South Philly, Sarcone’s offers limited indoor seating. Slices come on a paper napkin or wax paper, perfect for transport to one of the nearby parks.
The Pizza: Not to be confused with the round tomato pie of Trenton, N.J., this pie is rectangular, heavily sauced with tomato “gravy” and, sometimes, dusted with a whisper of Parmesan. Typically served at room temperature, the thick, bready pizza flaunts a fluffy perimeter. At Sarcone’s, the pie is baked in a behemoth brick hearth oven until the border is a deep golden brown.
The Origin Story: At first, slices were available as a takeaway option for customers picking up bread. Fifth-generation owner Louis Sarconerecalls his great-grandmother simmering gravy in the tiny kitchen at the back of the bakery to top the pies.
—Eleanore Park
6. New England Greek
The Range: Throughout New England at Pizza House and House of Pizza jointsThe Spot: Tilton House of Pizza (298 Main St., Tilton, N.H.); opened in 1998
The Context: In this town on the Winnipesaukee River, the Katsigiannis family and their staffhustle to handle the lunch rush and still take time to catch up with regulars. The décor: a mashup of Doric columns and Boston sports memorabilia.
The Pizza: Slow baked for a thick, doughy crust; drenched in oil for a satisfying bite; covered in punchy tomato sauce and pools of browned salty cheese. Toppings are a must (especially if there’s a “Greek” option).
The Origin Story: Dan and Fanoula Katsigiannis came from Greece to Manchester, N.H., in 1973 and left their factory jobs to open a House of Pizza in 1990. In ’98 the family bought the Tilton location. Mr. Katsigiannis, 69, still starts his day at 7 a.m., making dough from scratch while his sons grate cheese, chop vegetables, delivered daily, and man the counter.
—Casey Elsass
7. Grandma
The Range: Long Island, N.Y.The Spot: King Umberto (1343 Hempstead Turnpike, Elmont, N.Y.); opened in 1976
The Context: At this suburban pizzeria, a seven-minute drive from Belmont Park, the polite wait staff will walk you through the various pie styles on offer in addition to the grandma.
The Pizza: Stretched into an oiled pan, the grandma is thinner than other square slices. Mozzarella, fresh garlic, a drizzle of olive oil and tomato sauce spooned diagonally across the pie extend all the way to the edge.
The Origin Story: In the early ’70s, Umberto Corteo, an emigrant from Monte di Procida, near Naples, opened a pizza parlor in Hyde Park, N.Y. Soon thereafter his brother Carlo arrived to work with him, fashioning pies like those their mother made back home. Initially they offered this style as an off-menu appetizer. At their second, Elmont location they landed on the name grandma, their take on alla casalinga (housewife-style).
—Eleanore Park
Ciro Cesarano of King Umberto in Elmont, Long Island.
8. New York
The Range: New York City
The Spot: Totonno’s Pizzeria Napolitana (1524 Neptune Ave., Brooklyn, N.Y.), opened 1924
The Context: Three blocks from the Coney Island boardwalk, at America’s oldest continuously running family-owned pizzeria, the line runs out the door. Don’t let that scare you—they don’t allow crowding inside, so what you see is what the wait is, and this pizza is worth it.
The Pizza: The move here is Margherita or pepperoni. The recipe hasn’t changed since day one, and they make dough daily. The pizza is topped with thinly sliced fresh mozzarella plus grated Pecorino. Fold the slice to eat it—crucial to preventing roof-of-mouth burn. Folded, a Totonno’s slice holds stiff and
exhibits an even leoparding of char.
The Origin Story: Anthony “Totonno” Pero moved to the U.S. in 1903 and worked at America’s oldest documented pizzeria, Lombardi’s, in Manhattan. Once the subway expanded, he opened his place in Coney Island. Now his grandchildren run it.
—Farideh Sadeghin
9. Ohio Valley
The Range: Western Pa., eastern Ohio and the West Virginia panhandleThe Spot: Pizza House, aka Police Station Pizza (1007 Merchant St., Ambridge, Pa.); opened
1952-53
The Context: The American Bridge Company incorporated the borough of Ambridge as a company town in 1905. On the main street, next to the police station, Pizza House does nonstop takeout trade six days a week.
The Pizza: Sold by the square cut, the incredibly light, crisp crust bakes in steel pans, then bakes again topped with tangy tomato sauce and provolone; extra cheese goes on after the pie is out of the oven. The combination of cold and hot cheese, offset by the crunch of the crust, is curiously invigorating.
The Origin Story: In the early ‘50s, as jobs at the mill dried up, Tony Dippolito bought the business with help from brother-in-law Robert Burzese, who later took over. Now at the helm, Robert’s son Alex fastidiously monitors the cooking to achieve ideal browning and crunch.
—Beth Kracklauer
10. New Haven
The Range: New Haven, Conn., and environsThe Spot: Sally’s Apizza (237 Wooster St., New Haven, Conn.); opened in 1938The Context: On historic Wooster Street, a line of patrons perpetually await tables. Inside,
lamps emblazoned with the word PIZZA light the brown vinyl booths.
The Pizza: With an oblong shape that follows the contours of the long pizza peel that conveys the dough, the pizza is deeply charred by the same coal oven that’s been huffing along here for 80-plus years. Cheese comes on the pie by request only. The clam pie is canon, though the white fresh-tomato pie clocks in at a close second.
The Origin Story: New Haven pizza patriarch Frank Pepe founded his Pizzeria Napoletana in 1925 and sold fresh clams in the alleyway outside; in the mid-1960s he began topping his pies with them. His nephew Sal Consiglio opened Sally’s Apizza down the block and continued the tradition—though clams at Sally’s are chopped, not whole as they are at Pepe’s.
—Eleanore Park
The Vanguard
These new-wave pizza makers are changing the game around the U.S.A.
PHOTO: NICO SCHINCO FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
anything but.
The Maker: Scarr Pimentel, Scarr’s Pizza (22 Orchard St., New York)
The Philosophy: “I wanted our pizza to have a New-York- slice flavor profile without cutting corners on the quality of ingredients.”
The Pizza: The dough is a mix of whole grains milled in-house and natural flour sourced upstate. It may look like your standard dollar slice; a Scarr’s slice is
PHOTO: JAKOB N. LAYMAN
The Maker: Chris Bianco, Tartine Bianco (757 S. Alameda St. Ste. 160, Los
Angeles) and Pizzeria Bianco (multiple locations, Phoenix)
The Philosophy: “Transparency about our ingredients lets customers say, I can support the farmer and a sustainable grain economy.”
The Pizza: Called flatbread at Tartine Bianco, it’s thick but surprisingly delicate. Try the lemon-rosemary-red onion.
The Maker: Joe Beddia, Pizzeria Beddia (1313 N. Lee St., Philadelphia)
The Philosophy: “My goal was to keep it simple and recognizable as an American-style pie, but elevated with nice ingredients.”
The Pizza: Finished with fresh herbs, cave-aged hard cheese and high-quality olive oil. The tomato pie, a nod to the old-school Philly staple, is not to be missed.
The Maker: Sarah Minnick, Lovely’s Fifty Fifty (4039 N. Mississippi Ave., Portland, Ore.)The Philosophy: “I work with my farmers so the pizza becomes very functional—what we get,
what we have to use.”The Pizza: A pillowy crust from a blend of five flours, with a crumb like the best bread, heaped
with seasonal toppings like morel mushrooms and marigolds.The Maker: Josey Baker, The Mill (736 Divisadero St., San Francisco)
The Philosophy: “It’s complex and reflects the subtlety and nuance of a laborious, multistage process.”
The Pizza: Wheat is sourced two hours away and milled in-house. The whole-grain, sourdough crust is hearty and chewy with subtle nutty notes, topped with cheese alone or seasonal produce.
The Maker: Rick Easton, Bread and Salt (435 Palisade Ave., Jersey City, N.J.)
The Philosophy: “All the ingredients, from flour to salt to toppings, have to be the best. Otherwise, why do it?”
The Pizza: Roman-style pizza al taglio (by the slice), long- fermented and deeply flavorful. The minimalist rossa, topped with tomatoes, perhaps best embodies Mr. Easton’s approach.
PHOTO: JASON VARNEY
PHOTO: CELESTE NOCHE FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
PHOTO: THE MORRISONS
Rick Easton, Bread and Salt PHOTO: NICO SCHINCO FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
.
