I Don't Know Where New Haven Is But I Know They Have Pizza and a Guy Named Pete

I Googled it, New Haven is in Connecticut. But mistakes were made and it’s better to move forward, not backward. There’s never pizza behind you. Remember that.

Pete’s APizza (apizza?) brings the “famous New Haven” apizza to the depths of Washington, DC. As the nation’s capitol it’s only appropriate that there is a selection of pizza from across the United States.

I’ve never heard of New Haven Style pizza, but I’m always up for a new spin on the classic pie. I mean, what makes pizza so amazing is it’s a cuisine made up of three basic ingredients: bread, cheese, sauce. That’s it. Anyone with a $2 bill could gather enough ingredients to build a pizza. So any spin on the formula without adding a cesspool of toppings is an exciting thing to a pizza journalist. 

What’s funny about DC is that it’s tough to come across a place that will sell a single slice of pizza to you. It’s like bizarro New York city. But Pete’s Apizza fills that tiny hole in your tiny pizza heart.

Once you pick the apizza you want from their minuscule apizza zoo, you pick out how many pitchers of Peroni you’ll be enjoying. 

It’s casual for sure, but this is no Sbarro’s. It’s a smart and intelligent take on pizza that Henry Ford would be proud of. Quite a streamlined process. They even give you a little table card. 

Eight is the number of slices I wish I had ordered.

So here’s the pizza. Sorry, apizza. It’s simple and efficient, much like their process. There’s no mess and no excess of anything. It’s quaint. Just how I imagine New Haven to be.

For as basic as it looks, this pizza is full of that crunch.

It’s as if there’s invisible crust on the top of the pizza. It’s surrounded by an aura of brittleness that breaks apart as soon as your canines find their way into the cheese. From top to bottom, it’s crust. Not crusty because that’s a bad thing. But crunchy, shattering, crust. Laminated with cheese.

The sauce, well, I’m not sure there is any sauce. Check out this cross section.

Straight from cheese to crust! There’s no easing into it or lubrication between the two. They just sit atop of each other like oil and water. Or best friends intertwined with one another. Does sauce know they’re having a party without them? Perhaps.

You can’t even fold this pizza in half without worrying about a pizza splinter breaking off of the mother ship and blinding you. Never able to witness pizza bubbling in the oven again.

Or see what time it is in Naples. Or New Haven.

I found the pizza a bit dry and too full of crunch. It’s special. But I think I prefer something a bit on the softer side. But, for fans of crust I think you’re in for a treat. 

And here’s some Peroni being poured–a necessary to keep your whistle nice and whet. 

Pizza Compass App Review

A compass that locates the nearest pizza is, if I can be so blunt, an item that exists in so many pizza fantasies. Usually the adventurer inherits an ancient compass from their Neapolitan Grandmother, greasily passed down from one generation to the next. Legends say this compass connects you with your pizza. But can such a legendary fantastical object exist in our reality?

With the Pizza Compass App the answer is yes.

It’s a novel way that blends together technology with functionality. It’s a blend that goes together just as well as shredded mozzarella and provolone. 

When you open the pizza compass you’re met with a mystical slice that has been programmed to find and hunt down pizza. The slice rotates and keep your spirits in tune with the pie that resonates with your soul. You pick the destination and you’ll be guided their by your angelic pizza guide.

When it’s not being a compass, it acts as a handy guide to all the pizza in your area. Using the Foursquare API it gives you pizza-focused venues as well as relevant user ratings and reviews. The pizza market is nothing less than saturated and any tool that can help you make a better decision is more helpful than a surplus of flour when you’re dealing with particularly sticky dough.

What would be improved with this app was a bit more motivation. While pizza is surely motivation enough it wouldn’t hurt to have a few slices of sage wisdom or a mozzarella mentor that tosses encouragement your way. The journey to pizza can be a long one and mantras like “The pizza you seek is the pizza you’ll eat” would make the trip a breeze. If anything it would boost my mental fortitude and keep my hunger true.

It’s a solid experience and worth the $1 it cost in the app store. 

I recently had the “pleasure” of visiting Roland’s in the Strip. This is face, the face I’m making at that pizza, is usually the last thing any pizza sees before meeting its maker. It’s the “I’m going to eat this whole pizza in one sitting” face.

The pizza of Roland’s must have sensed that doom was following it out of the oven and deployed a self-defense mechanism: awfulness. Thanks to some miserable sauce, soggy cheese, and a floppy crust this pizza fought me away. Like a wolf biting a porcupine, I had to turn tail and flee from my prey.

The only edible portion of this pizza were certain spots of the crust. I carefully tore off the crust like I was opening up a valuable envelope. A pull in the wrong direction and I’d have spoiled my dinner with some of that candy sweet sauce and flat as paper cheese.

This pizza made me crave texture. It flopped down my throat like I was swallowing a dead fish whole. Which is too bad because it looks nice. The roasted red peppers are spread throughout and the cheese covers the dough like a blanket on a freshly made bed. But looks can be deceiving. 

I’d stick to the fish at Roland’s. 

Pizza Review: Ledo's Pizza in Deep Creek, Maryland

I had the pleasure to visit Deep Creek, Maryland with some rascals. It’s a sleepy town that exists for folks to sail their boats, pretend they’re a squid in a man-made lake, or make an army of grilled cheese on a grill. Right next to the larger-than-life liquor store is Ledo’s Pizza. It’s one of the last stops before a cove of lake houses, so it ends up attracting customers like dopey moths wandering towards a bright light out of convenience. 

While my comrades were busy juggling bottles of cherries soaked in whiskey, pounds of beer,  and a grotesque amount of booze that hobos pray wait for them in heaven, I went to Ledo’s Pizza. Their entrance was quaint. Fake bricks and decor screamed “Hey, we’re probably Italian” a mirage that didn’t work on me, no matter my level of hunger. I thought about leaving behind a Foursquare tip to warn others, but even that level of slacktivism seemed over the top.

Instead of a circle, they sprawl their pizzas out in rectangles. They’re used to serving families so this format suits them perfectly, not a young man who’s idea of a serving of pizza is one large pie.  It’s a novelty that leaves crust enthusiasts behind. Only a portion of the pizza has a handle so after the outside walls of the pizza are demolished all hell breaks loose. Like a pizza prison break.

Crust or no crust, this pizza is something that would be served at a prison. An upscale prison, not the Eastern State Penitentiary (unless Steve Buscemi was in charge of the cafeteria). It’s flimsy, like a sheet of wax paper, and flops with the sauce and cheese. You can see why a crust is needed. 

It’s a shame the engineering of this pizza is poor because the sauce and cheese are passable. Nothing to write your ma home about, but it’s something I wouldn’t mind eating. If Ledo’s wanted to up their game, they need to evolve from that rectangle and work on a circle. There’s a reason pizzas are round, Mr. Ledo. No one wants to be forced into using a fork and knife to enjoy their pizza. They don’t even get those tools in prison and this is prison quality pizza!

Pizza Review: Mercurio's Neapolitan Melts in Your Mouth

It was a bright and sunny Father’s day, and all through the town, not a creature was stirring, not even a clown. The heavens were calm and the birds did chirp. If I didn’t know any better I could have sworn they did burp. This Father’s day I took my dear ol’ dad down the street. We would go to a place where pizza we would eat. Mercurio’s fine pizza! Neapolitan style! I just hope we wouldn’t have to wait a while.

We entered the shop with empty tummies, and as soon as we got in we could smell something yummy. The scent of gelato mixed with the burning pizza oven, if I had died and gone to heaven, well, this is no coven. We took our seats in an alcove to dine and noticed that there was an abundant menu which included some wine.

To start things off we ordered some bruschetta, we ate it as though it held our vendetta. The tomatoes mixed with the soft cushy cheese, unfortunately the bread buckled at the knees. It wasn’t able to support such toppings, so what remained were plenty of tomato droppings. Yet, it was refreshing and cool, with a bit of a crunch. Would I order it again? Maybe for lunch. 

The pizzas were vast and as far as the eye, I could tell you now that this is where I’d want to die. There were simple pies made with the basic of cheese, and extraordinary delights that would certainly appease. I stuck with the basics and ordered one margherita,  while my dad ordered the primavera con carne-a.

My pizza arrived warm and gooey. I put a slice in my mouth and found it chewy. It’s buttery base sizzled my senses, but the pizza was worth the humble expenses. So simple and clean with moderate cheese, this is the pizza that blesses my dreams. It’s tasty and firm and is gone too soon, it’s the only type of pizza that can make me swoon. 

So what are you waiting for? A groupon or more? Don’t walk to Mercurio’s, but run or soar! Their pizza is as legit as any I’ve had, and if you never taste it, well, that’s just too bad.