East Village's Old Fashioned Pizza Opens Slinging Pies Nothin' Like Mama Made
Micro-mesh screen marks on a slice at the newly opened Old Fashioned PIzza in the East Village.
East Village's Old Fashioned Pizza Opens Slinging Pies Nothin' Like Mama Made
For every good sliceria that opens in New York City, there are 10 bad ones, five mediocre ones, and three terrible ones. Maybe that’s the way it is all over the city, but it seems especially the case in the East Village where i live, creating a pizza microcosm for the rest of Gotham. As that goes, those figures may be conservative.
The gum line on a Sicilian slice at Old Fashioned Pizza in the East Village.
The East Village suffers plenty of bad pizza with a shrug. But it's also been a graveyard to places with good pedigree and press. Michael White's Nicoletta called it quits (Lions & Tigers & Squares took the space). Nick Anderer & Danny Meyer pulled the plug on the underrated Martina. Bruno, which milled its flour and got hella ink. Basta.
That doesn't even get into places like Three of Cups, Gotham, GG's, Nino's, Mandolino, Pizza Rollio... the list goes on. People think they can open a joint, use bad ingredients, churn out bad product, or have a schtick, and make a quick buck on margin. Some don't know how to make pizza and hire consultants. Some don't bother.
The plain slice at Old Fashioned Pizza isn’t even as good as the serviceable one at its owners other joint across from Grand Central Station, Uncle Paul’s.
They come. They go. Some charge 99¢. The others must have money to burn.
Which is the quintessential Pizza Cowboy long lead-in way of saying, the East Village has a new spot: Old-Fashioned Pizza. And while basic, it's not a bad name.
A few steps down E13th St from Ssäm Bar, Old-Fashioned Pizza has been in the works for months. With that name, you expect a place specializing in grandmas or a really great classic slice. By the way, grandma pizza is a niche BEGGING for specialization in New York City and a high-brow approach—it’s everywhere, but it’s not good most everywhere the way it is where it originated in Long Island.
Not your grandma’s grandma slice.
Regardless, you get neither grandma pizza nor great classic slices at Old Fashioned Pizza. Cheese and sauce are standard but they're not the problem. "It's the crust, Marty! Something's gotta be done about the crust!"
The grandma has a VERY pronounced gum line. There's a thick goo above the undercarriage. Sicilian's about the same, just thicker. The blond, vapid plain is cooked on a micro-screen (my term) with a VERY fine mesh you’ll see at Amore in Whitestone. There's an artichoke slice that's thin and reserved but that has very little actual flavor. #Needssalt is not a hashtag you expect to have to use in conjunction with pizza but it applies to that slice.
It’s a small shop. There’s a chalkboard on one wall with a makeshift, friendly approach to a “history of pizza.” A neon sign proclaiming, “love is…” is mounted on the opposite wall, positioned so that the pies in the counter display can be featured in front of it for instagram posts.
The balance of toppings-to-crust on the artichoke slice shows a promise its flavor doesn’t deliver.
Nothing wrong with that. You just wish a place like this would put as much attention into their pies as their neon. Maybe that’s the point—they did. Probably would have been money better spent on someone coming in and consulting on their pies.
The owners also own Uncle Paul's across from Grand Central. Uncle Paul's, no paragon, is better. It’s hard to imagine getting so drunk you’d forget Joe's, Mani & Pasta, and Artichoke Basille’s are ONE block away, but hey, someone’s sure to do it. — #pizzacowboy🍕🤠
Keep walking. Nothing to see here.