Those lines. This pizza was sliced and diced with authority. Notice how the pizza doesn’t even try to bond back together like a symbiote or the Iron Giant. That’s a sign of a crispy, flaky crust that is waiting for you to ravage. It’s bold enough to stand on its own. “We don’t need those dirty other slices, we’re independent.” This Lucci’s pizza is thin, but capable. Like a lean cross country runner or a pole vaulter. Deceptive, yet satisfying. Wait, what do you mean you’ve never had Lucci’s Pizza? Oh, that’s right. It’s within a pizza’s throw of two very famous pizza shops that shine brighter than a hundred blessed pizzas.
Lucci’s stands very close to Mineo’s and Aiello’s which some may consider the finest in Pittsburgh. Which is fine, because Lucci’s offers a very different pie. Instead of an unhealthy amount of cheese and grease, Lucci’s delivers a humble pie that believes in moderation. If this was an Indiana Jone’s situation, Doctor Jones would choose this pizza, the pizza of a carpenter.
That might be the best way to describe Lucci’s Pizza. It’s comfortable. It’s nothing extravagant. It’s exactly how you would imagine a pizza would be. In a TV Script, when there’s a need for a pizza, the prop team would get a pizza from Lucci’s. It’s the pizza that would show up in clipart and that’s okay. It’s standard.
The one thing that kind of sticks out is how crispy and crunchy the crust is. When you bite into the handle of the pizza it splinters into a thousand tiny bits of crust. It’s a surprise considering how calm and collected the rest of the pizza is.
But the taste, flavor, and texture are exactly how you would imagine it to be. The cheese can land a bit on the heavy side, but the total package is nothing to flinch at. And when you put this pizza next to the somewhat absurd Mineo’s and Aiello’s, it works. It seems different when everything nearby is so over the top.
Three out of five pizzas.